"It's not fine. Medical opinion. Hold on."
She was laughing—full, breathless, real laughter that I felt vibrate through my entire body—and her fists drummed against my back without any real force behind them. Sully bounded ahead, tail high, like this was the best game yet.
Behind us, Stephanies's voice rang out clear across the yard. “Get it, Maggie!”
Followed by a wolf whistle so sharp it probably carried to the next county.
I felt Maggie bury her face against my back, her whole body shaking with laughter. "Oh my God."
"Your family's real supportive."
"I'm going to kill her."
"Later." I adjusted my grip on her thighs, my thumb tracing the strip of bare skin where her shirt had ridden up. "You're busy."
I took the cabin steps two at a time. Sully trotted in first and settled by the door with the air of a dog who knew when he wasn't needed. I kicked the door shut behind us and set Maggie down, and the second her feet hit the floor, her mouth was on mine.
Hard. Hungry. Her hands fisted in my wet shirt and pulled, and I walked her backward until her hips hit the kitchen counter. She gasped into my mouth, and I swallowed the sound, my hands sliding down to grip her waist, fingers pressing into the bare skin above her jeans where her soaked shirt had ridden up.
"Off," she demanded, yanking my shirt upward. It stuck to my chest, and she growled—actuallygrowled—fighting with the wet fabric until I reached back and hauled it over my head one-handed. Her palms flattened against my stomach before the shirt hit the floor, and the feeling of her hands on my bare skin sent a jolt straight through me.
I returned the favor with less patience. Peeled her shirt up and off, wet cotton dragging across her skin, and she shook her blonde hair free. It fell around her shoulders in damp tangles. Wet lace. Flushed chest. Green eyes blazing up at me like a dare.
"You're staring," she breathed.
"Damn right I am."
I kissed her throat. The hinge of her jaw. The spot below her ear that made her hips roll against mine. She tasted like creek water and sunlight, and I wanted to taste every inch of her. Her bra clasp was slippery under my fingers, but I got it free and she let it fall. The sound she made when my mouth found her breast—low and ragged and completely unguarded—nearly dropped me to my knees right there.
Her jeans were the real battle. Soaked through, suctioned to her thighs like a second skin. I dropped to my knees on the kitchen floor and worked them down while she braced her hands on the counter behind her, breathing hard, watching me with those green eyes gone dark.
"These jeans," I muttered against her hip, "are a goddamn engineering problem."
"Less talking."
I got them off. Pressed my mouth to the inside of her thigh and heard her breath catch. Hooked my fingers into the wet lace at her hips and dragged it down, slow, and she whimpered.
"Jack—"
I put my mouth on her, and her hands sank into my hair. She wasn't quiet. Wasn't careful. Every sound she made was raw and real, and it went straight to my blood like whiskey.
I used my tongue, my fingers, found the rhythm that made her hips buck against me and then kept it — relentless, steady — while she fell apart above me. Her back arched hard against the counter edge. One hand left my hair and slapped flat against the countertop and her head fell back and she said my name like it was being torn out of her.
She came with her whole body. Shaking, clenching, a strangled cry that echoed off the cabin walls. I held her hips and worked her through it until she was gasping, until her fingers loosened in my hair and her body went liquid.
I kissed my way back up. Her stomach. The curve under her breast. Her collarbone. She caught my face and kissed me deep and filthy, tasting herself on my mouth, and the sound she made was somewhere between satisfaction and fresh hunger.
"Bed," she said. "Now."
She pushed me backward across the cabin. My legs hit the mattress, and I sat down hard. She climbed into my lap, her knees bracketing my hips. Her hands went to my belt and she was efficient about it—buckle, button, zipper—and when her hand wrapped around me I hissed through my teeth.
"Lie back," she murmured, and pushed my chest until I went.
She slid down my body. Took her time. Kissed my stomach, my hip bone, the trail of hair below my navel, and when her mouth finally closed around my cock, my fists twisted in the sheets, and my hips jerked before I could stop them.
She was good. She wasdevastating. Wet heat and clever tongue and those green eyes watching me from between my thighs with an expression that was half tenderness, half pure wicked intent. She hollowed her cheeks and took me deeper, and the sound I made wasn't something I'd ever admit to.
But I didn't want to finish like this.
