She was going to burst into flames and crash back to earth at any minute. “Fuck. Fuck, Bear. Do it, don’t stop, don’t?—”
He wrapped his arms around her, crushed her in, and moved his mouth to her ear: “Give it to me, Greta.”
That did it. She clamped down on him and came so hard she had to bite his shoulder to keep from howling it to the whole goddamn street.
He fucked her through it, then gave one last brutal thrust, every muscle in his body turned to steel, and growled against her throat as he pulsed inside her.
For a long moment, neither of them moved. Bear’s chest pressed her to the boards, pinning her there, and her legs trembled around him as the aftershocks rippled through her.
Finally, he eased himself out, leaving a fading burn in her core, and moved back just enough to lift her by the waist and set her on her feet again. She caught herself on the wall, jeans bunched around her knees, underwear snapped and hopelessly askew. He was already hard again, and she reached for his cock with the sudden, urgent need to taste him, but he caught her wrist.
“No.” His voice was destroyed. “Not in the yard.”
She laughed and lanced toward Joy Roberts’ house. “She can’t see us back here.”
He buttoned himself up, hands unsteady, and glared at her like he could pin her in place with his stare alone. “I want you in a bed so I can take my time.”
She stood on her toes to lightly kiss his lips and wound her arms around his neck. “Then take me inside, Sasquatch.”
eighteen
He bent, scooped her over his shoulder, and strode across the yard toward the house with her ass in the air and her hair tickling his back in a wild orange curtain. Her legs drummed against his chest as he shouldered open the door.
He only had tonight. He planned to make the most of it.
“Bear!” She was laughing—that wild, bright laugh that did something to his chest every time—and he didn’t ever want to stop hearing it.
He took the stairs two at a time and shouldered into the bedroom. Distantly, he heard the dogs clambering after them, but he slammed the door behind him with his boot.
King whined.
Sorry, buddy. You’re not invited tonight.
The bed was unmade. He’d slept like shit last night, worrying about her, and the blankets were in a heap. He yanked them off and dropped her onto the mattress.
She rolled to her back, kicked off her ruined jeans, and yanked her shirt over her head, not bothering with any showy undressing, just getting the damn things off so he could see her. She was glorious—breasts small and perfect, skin dusted with freckles, stomach flat and ribbed with muscle.
She propped herself up on her elbows. “Strip, Care Bear.”
He pulled his shirt up and off, jeans after, shoving them down over his hips and off his legs with zero finesse, and there was that sound again—Greta’s laugh, lower now, thickened with want and edged with a dare.
She crooked her finger at him. “What are you waiting for?”
He wanted to taste her everywhere, all at once, but he had to do this right. He started at the base of her throat, pressing his mouth along her collarbone, biting a line down to her chest. He cupped a breast, rolled the nipple between his fingers, loving the way she arched up into his palm, already greedy for more.
She fisted her hand in his beard. “Harder, you big?—”
He nipped her.
Her back bowed up. “Yes.”
He worked her harder with his mouth, dragging his beard down her ribs, nipping the lines of her abs. She tasted like sweat and salt, and when he ran a hand down her thigh, she opened for him, heel digging hard into the mattress and her hand twisting so tight in his hair he thought she might rip it out by the roots. He liked that she wasn’t afraid to use force on him. Liked the way she talked to him, like he was more mountain than man, and she wanted to see if she could blow the top off.
He moved lower, mouth along her hip and then between her legs, and she hitched her whole body up to meet him. When he licked her, she gasped—no, she made a sound that was almost a growl—and her knees locked around his neck. She fought him for control, and he let her. He liked fighting for it. It was honest and messy and exactly like her.
He could crush a walnut in one hand, but the firmness of her thighs around his head was a force to be reckoned with. He spread her wide and sucked hard, working his tongue until she started to shake.
She came once, hard and fast, then gasped, “Don’t stop. Don’t you fucking dare,” so he didn’t. He drew her out until she was squirming and cursing and finally had to shove him off or she’d pass out.
