Page 7

I don't say anything. She leans across the arm of the chair, puts her hand on my jaw, and presses her mouth to mine.

She tastes like the steak and the cider and something sweet underneath that's just her. The kiss is soft for about two seconds before my hand finds the back of her neck and I pull her closer and soft stops being an option.

She makes a sound against my mouth. Low, surprised, pleased. Her fingers curl into my flannel and she pulls herself onto my lap, straddling me in the porch chair. The wood groans under our combined weight and I don't care if it breaks. My hands find her waist, grip the curve of her hips, pull her flush against me. She feels small in my hands. Compact and warm and real in a way that makes my brain short circuit.

"Inside," she breathes against my mouth.

I stand up with her wrapped around me. Her legs lock at the small of my back, her arms around my neck. I carry her through the back door, down the hallway, into my bedroom. Bear trots after us and I close the door in his face.

"Sorry, Bear," she whispers, and then laughs, and the laughter turns into a gasp when I lay her on the bed and cover her body with mine.

She pulls at my flannel. I shrug it off. She pulls at my thermal. I get rid of that too. Her hands spread flat across my chest, fingertips tracing the muscles, the hair, the scar across my left shoulder.

"Chainsaw," I explain.

"Of course it was a chainsaw." She presses her lips to the scar. Tender. Deliberate. Something behind my sternum cracks open.

I untie the flannel at her waist. Lift the tank top over her head. Her bra is plain cotton, nothing fancy, and when I unclasp it and pull it free she doesn't cover herself. She lies on my bed in just her jeans and looks at me like she's daring me to look away.

I couldn't if I tried. Her skin is dark and smooth and the porch light through the curtains paints gold stripes across her breasts. Her nipples tighten under my gaze and I bend my head and take one in my mouth.

"Oh fuck." Her back arches. Her fingers grip my hair. I suck gently, then harder, tongue flicking the tight peak while my hand finds her other breast and palms it, squeezes it, rolls her nipple between my thumb and forefinger.

I want to take my time. I want to learn every inch of this woman's body like I learn a piece of wood, mapping the grain, finding where it yields and where it resists. But she's pulling at my belt and making noises that are dismantling my self-control.

I unbutton her jeans. She lifts her hips and I slide them down her legs, taking her underwear with them. She's bare underneath me, all curves and warm skin and the scent of something floral mixed with the cinnamon that never fully leaves her.

I kiss down her stomach. Her breath catches. My mouth finds the soft skin at her inner thigh, and she trembles.

"Emmett."

"Tell me what you want."

"Your mouth on me. Please."

I spread her thighs and lower my mouth to her pussy. She's wet already, slick against my tongue when I lick a flat stripe from her entrance to her clit. Her hips jerk. Her hand finds my hair again, gripping, guiding. I circle her clit with my tongue, slow, firm, learning what makes her gasp and what makes her grip tighten.

She gasps when I suck her clit gently between my lips. She grips tighter when I push two fingers inside her, curling them forward, stroking the spot that makes her thighs clamp around my ears.

"Right there. Don't stop. God, Emmett, don't you dare stop."

I don't stop. I work her with my mouth and my fingers until her whole body tightens, until her back lifts off the bed, until she comes with a sound that's half my name and half something wordless and beautiful. I keep my mouth on her through it, gentle now, easing her down.

She's still pulsing around my fingers when she reaches for me. "Get up here. Now."

I grab a condom from the nightstand drawer. She takes it from my hand, tears the wrapper with her teeth, and rolls it onto my cock with hands that are surprisingly steady for a woman who just came hard enough to pull my hair out.

I settle between her thighs. She wraps her legs around me and pulls me forward, and I slide into her in one slow, deep stroke.

"Fuck." The word comes from both of us.

She's tight and hot and the way she clenches around my cock makes my vision blur. I hold still for a beat, letting us both adjust, then I start to move. Slow at first. Deep, measured thrusts that let me feel every inch of her.

"Harder," she says. Her nails dig into my back. "I won't break, Emmett."

I snap my hips forward. She cries out. Her body takes me, pulls me deeper, and the rhythm we find is raw and urgent and honest. The bedframe hits the wall with every thrust. Her breasts bounce between us and I bend to take a nipple in my mouth while I fuck her.

She comes again with her face buried in my neck, teeth sinking into my shoulder. The bite sends me over. I bury myself deep, groaning her name, feeling her pulse around me while I spill into the condom.