With a soft groan, he accepted that invitation, pulling her closer, sliding both hands to her backside and bringing her in tight against his very hard cock.
A persistent throb of desire began in her core and spread like lava, heating her body, relaxing her tense muscles and taunting her with what she’d give up when she walked out that door.
He lifted his mouth a fraction, his breath coming fast, his voice gruff with passion. “Don’t go. Let me love you.”
His urgent plea landed like a rocket in her midsection, bringing a rush of moisture and an ache that he’d be happy to address if she said the word. She wanted… oh, how she wanted… but Tex….
But this. She’d spend the rest of her life wondering what being loved by Monty Bridger would have been like. Tex would grow up, find his own special person, and she’d have… so many regrets.
She sucked in air and let it out slowly. “I’m staying.”
“Thank God.” Tightening his grip on her tush, he picked her up. “Wrap your legs around me.”
“Hey, I’m heavy. I can?—”
“I gots you.”
That startled a laugh out of her and wiped away the last of her misgivings. She wrapped her legs around his hips as he headed down the hall.
How effortlessly he cradled her against his lightly furred chest. The song Holding Out for a Hero played in her lust-scorched brain.
His dark, erotically scented bedroom teased her with the delicacy of wild rose, the tang of Ivory soap and the musky aroma of sex. The vague outline of a ginormous bed and rumpled sheets ramped up the drumbeat of arousal. She’d never been so turned on in her life.
Lowering her to the smooth expanse, he followed her down, his big body covering hers, his fleece-covered groin wedged between her trembling thighs. He balanced his weight on his forearms. “You drive me crazy.”
“Works both ways.” She unhooked her arms from around his neck and hugged his muscled torso. “I love the way you feel. You’re so solid.”
“Especially here.” He rocked forward, his cock pressed firmly against the damp material of her pj bottoms.
An enthusiastic response from her core sent a warning. “Um, you might wanna get out of your?—”
“Yes, ma’am. But first, how about some light?”
“Sure.”
“Close your eyes.”
She squeezed them shut as he shifted his weight and clicked a switch.
“Wow.”
Slowly opening her eyes, she gazed into his. So blue. So filled with awe.
He dragged in a breath. “I can’t believe you’re here. That you’re in my bed. That your hair’s spread out on my pillow.”
“I can’t believe it, either. I can’t believe I can finally touch you.”
“Please do.” His voice was thick, his breathing uneven.
When she began stroking the bunched muscles of his back, he shivered. “Are you ticklish?”
“No, I just…” His chest heaved. “I’ve never been so….”
“Me, either.” Moving her caress lower, she slipped both hands under the loose waistband of his sweats, cupped his ass and squeezed. Oh, baby.
He gasped. “Careful.” He backed away. “Time to ditch these.” Leaving the bed, he shoved down his sweats and kicked them away.
She sat up and watched. Oh, did she ever. She hadn’t seen a naked man in ages, and she’d never seen one equipped like Monty Bridger.
