“And…”
“And… I know I’m gonna get burned.” The words leave me before I can rein them in. Her hands, splayed against my chest, tighten slightly, and her fingertips dimple into my flesh.
Lightning fractures the sky outside, illuminating the shack with a violent white flash. For half a second, I see her clearly. Rain-slick strands of blonde hair stick to her face. Her skin is flushed, and her lips part slightly, dragging in a shaky breath.
God, she’s fucking beautiful.
I slide my hand from her cheek to her jaw, my thumb resting just beneath her bottom lip. It trembles under the pad of my finger as she tentatively whispers, “Easton…”
I don’t know what she’s asking for. Permission. Reassurance. Or my restraint. I should step back. I don’t want to put her in the blast radius of my grief.She knows that.Instead, I pull her closer.
She leans in and tilts her face up instinctively, like she’s been waiting for this moment. Our noses brush, and her warm breath fans against my mouth despite the cold that still clings to her skin.
A shiver runs through her, and her lips barely graze mine. It’s an accident—a mere whisper of contact—but I freeze. I hover a breath away, suspended between choice and consequence. Between the man who buried his wife and the man standing in a storm-darkened shack with a woman who feels like a lit match in his hands.
The sky booms so violently, the walls rattle as lightning splits the air again. I close the rest of the distance, and darkness surrounds us again.
Our lips meet, and it is soft at first. Her lips are cool from the cold, trembling against mine. I press gently, as if she might shatter if I move too fast. My hand slides into her wet hair, fingers tangling at the nape of her neck. The other is splayed across her lower back, pulling her tight to me. Using my hold, I tip her head slightly to claim her mouth.
She makes a sound, low in her throat, something between relief and hunger. Her hands trail from my chest to my shoulders, gripping them firmly. The chill still lingers on her skin, but beneath it, there’s an undeniable heat building. My thumb traces along her jaw, then down the column of her neck, feeling the pulse flutter beneath it.
The kiss deepens slowly, deliberately, like we’re both aware that once we cross this line, there’s no retreating. Her lips open under mine, and I follow. It’s not frantic or careless. It’s starved. Every suppressed glance, almost-touch, and word swallowed instead of spoken, pours into it. Sheexhales a whimper into me, and the restraint I’ve been clinging to fractures.
I walk her back a step without realizing it until her spine brushes the wall. My body follows, instinct and gravity drawing me in. I drag my hands along the smooth skin of her arms, guiding them up the wall until I reach her wrists, pinning them above her head.
Breaking our kiss, I let my gaze fall down to her face. Her eyes are darker now, full of hunger and lust.
“Once we do this…” I murmur, my voice not nearly as steady as I’d like.
“I know,” she states quickly and confidently. The words land like a strike against flint.
Kissing her again, deeper this time, I feel the last thread of hesitation snapping. There’s nothing between us but skin and soaked denim. My free hand moves to her waist, tugging her flush to me. Her breath hitches against my lips, a sharp intake that I swallow whole. I don’t give her the chance to recover, gather her scattered thoughts, or regain control.
That’s not how I want her. I want her breath uneven and pulse racing, suspended in that fragile space between anticipation and surrender. I shift my weight, pressing her harder into the rough, exposed wood beam, which bites into the shoulder blades of her bare skin. She gasps, a high, fragile sound that makes my cock throb in response.
A low guttural moan rattles from me. “Do you like that?” I gravelly whisper, my lips grazing the sensitive shell of her ear. “Being pinned down and at my mercy.”
She nods frantically.
“Tell me,” I urge. “I want to hear you.”
“Yes,” she whimpers as I slide my free hand down, my fingers tracing the line of her waist, feeling the heat radiating from her skin. Her heart hammers against her ribs so hard, like a frantic bird trapped in a cage. I grip her hip tightly, digging into her soft flesh, anchoring her to me and keeping her from moving even an inch.
My lips travel up and down the length of her neck. She trembles with anticipation, a delicious vibration that ripples through both of us. I like her like this. I don’t want to tame the fire in her, but I look forward to bending it to my will.
“You’re fucking beautiful,” I tell her, stroking her lower lip with my thumb. I release her wrists, and she scrambles for purchase on my shoulders, her fingertips digging into my skin.
Leaning in, I kiss her hard and demandingly. My tongue sweeps in to claim her mouth, plundering it with a desperate hunger. I wrestle my tongue with hers in a dominating rhythm. She melts into me, her body going soft, her hands sliding up to tangle in my hair. I can feel her nipples hardening against my chest through the thin lace of her bra, a sharp pebble that rubs along my skin, sending jolts of electricity straight to my cock.
I break our kiss, but I don’t pull away. With my forehead resting against hers, our breath mingles, hot and ragged, as I struggle to catch my own. I lean back far enough to tilt her chin up with my free hand, forcing her gaze to lock onto mine.
“Look at me,” I command, my voice dropping to a low, gravelly rumble. Her eyes are glazed, dilated, and swimming with a mix of lust and hunger that makes my blood run hot. “I can’t wait to watch you lose control for me.”
Reaching between us, I undo the button of her jeans and lower the zipper. I run my fingertips along the elastic waistband of her panties before slipping my hand into them. My digits glide between her lips, finding her already slick, swollen, and ready. “God, you’re so wet,” I groan, dusting the pads of my finger teasingly over her clit. She gasps, her back arching off the wall, her hips bucking against my hand.
“I know,” she moans with need. “I’m so ready for you.”
“Good,” I exhale, falling to my knees and peeling the wet denim down her legs, dragging her panties with them. This close to her pussy, I can’t help but inhale her intoxicating scent—a heady mix of sweet and musky arousal. A smirk pulls at my lips. “You’re nowhere near ready for me, wildfire.”
