“No,” he says quickly, stepping in so close, my breasts brush beneath his chest. We both suck in a harsh breath, and as my lips part, a sudden nonnegotiable need to taste him coaxes my tongue out. I tentatively lick the salty pad of his lingering thumb, and the sound he makes is tortured.
Slowly, I close all remaining space between us, looping myarms around his toweled waist. Forrest curses as he looks up at the ceiling slats, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, the thumb I’m kissing eases slowly but purposefully into my mouth. Lightning cracks through my stomach, striking hard and hot between my legs. Looking up at him through my lashes, I raze my bottom teeth against his calloused skin before sucking slowly. He makes a deep, soft groan as his other hand slides to my lower back, pulling me tighter against him. I can feel whatever he’s working with angled down against the towel between us, pressing hard into my belly and beyond my hip bone like a steel bar.
I gasp lightly around his thumb, and he drags it from my mouth down to my chin. He pinches it firmly and tilts my face up, his eyebrows drawing together as if they could summon thunder. When he speaks, his voice is deep and coarse. “You really think ‘happy for right now’ will be enough? Three weeks of this and thennothing?”
The wild, untamed feeling in my chest escaped the moment he touched my face. Now it’s vibrating in every cell of my body, throbbing with two words:never enough. Never enough.My teeth skim my bottom lip, trying to scrape the last taste of him into my mouth. “It has to be enough.”
His eyes search mine, moving back and forth between them like he’s looking for another option. “Fucking hell,” he says with a desperate catch in his voice. The hand on my back becomes a bracing forearm, and then he’s jerking me up on my tiptoes, bending me backward as his mouth comes down against mine. My arms go up, circling his warm neck to pull myself even closer. The last week without his kiss has been a torment. The lastthousandweeks without his kiss have been a torment. The hand that isn’t gripping my waist slides into my hair, supporting my head and neck, and my knees turn to liquid. For all his strength, I feel him trembling too. Like a man deprived, he catches his lips against mine in quick, frustrated presses, unable to get what he needs fast enough. I openup for him in response, needing him deeper, and every stroke of his tongue and sharp nip of his teeth is like a warning:You asked for it, so now you’ll get it.
Hot lips and scraping teeth move down my neck, and I throw my head back, letting him support me completely. When he reaches my collarbone, his tongue dips into every smooth hollow, and my hips jerk against him. The towel is a frustrating barrier between us, and I realize I’m not beyond trying to hump it off him. But then he’s pulling me up straight again, and before I can protest, he kneels at my feet.
“Oh God,” I breathe, sucking in my bottom lip as his beautiful face comes level with my breasts. I’m a shaking, sweaty mess in front of this man, who’s looking at me like he knows exactly what I need and is honored to give it to me. Of course he is. I went on an unsuspecting pilgrimage to the Alaskan bush and somehow found the holy grail of hot, considerate men. For once, I don’t feel like rolling my eyes. I’m delirious with wanting every mind-blowing, back-to-back, soul-freeing climax that romance books have taught me to expect from men like this, or my money back.
When his lush mouth brushes over one nipple and then the other, my whole body spasms. “Jesus, Margot,” he grinds out. “Just look at you.”
And I do. I can’t stop watching the way he moves over me, my hips grinding helplessly against his thick chest when he finally sucks me into his mouth. My toes curl painfully against the hot slats as I arch and gasp.
“Fuck,” he hisses when he releases me, licking his way to the other side like my salty skin is the most delicious thing he’s ever tasted. “Fuck,” he growls louder, his hands sliding to roughly grip my ass before he pulls my other nipple deep into his mouth.
“Forrest,” I gasp, my hands struggling to slide into his coarse, tangled hair. “Please…”
He draws me out before letting go with a softpopand looksup at me. He’s breathless, every line of his body tense and hungry for me. “You need me lower, sweetheart? Just tell me.”
Sweetheart. God, why do I love that so much? Maybe because no one’s ever thought of me as sweet. But the way he’s staring at me makes me feel like molten sugar, and I nod frantically, making a sound likeuhhnthat will have to pass for yes. His hands slide back to my hips, and to my faint surprise, he guides me gently away from him. I take two wobbly steps back before my ass hits the hot door, and I’m surprised it doesn’t sizzle.
“Oh,” I say faintly as the distance between us allows me to get a good look at him on his knees. His chest rises and falls quickly, his abdominals contracting with every breath. Below them, the Little Towel That Could seems to be clinging to his hips by sheer will alone, but has split open to partially reveal him. I’m not sure what sound I make. As I take in every thick inch that’s worked its way free, I have only one thought:Dax. My most generously, beautifully endowed character. Staring at Forrest is like looking at my most improbable dreams come to life, and suddenly, my self-consciousness springs into action.
Just like the heroes in my books, he’s too perfect. I’ve never been with someone so gratuitously attractive. It’s why romance heroes need to stay safely within their pages, where they can’t take innocent, horny women unawares in Alaskan saunas. My arms cross over my body as I squirm under his gaze, and the drunken, glazed look in his eyes vanishes.
“Margot, no,” he pleads, coming slowly forward on his knees.
“Don’t you dare grovel! It’s too much,” I protest as he gently peels my hands away, pressing kisses to every area I’ve tried to hide. “You’re too much for me.”
“Christ, how do you think I feel?” He inhales and glides his nose against my belly. “So beautiful,” he murmurs so low I barely hear him. “Can’t fucking breathe when I look at you.”
My own breath hitches in my chest as his tongue catches abead of condensation slowly rolling between my breasts. His hands tighten on my hips, his thumbs drawing slow circles on my slick skin.
“Please, Margot,” he whispers, looking up at me. “Please let me.”
I don’t need clarification. His hands are already tugging, drawing my hips off the sauna door. My shoulder blades press harder against the scorching wood as I tilt for him, nodding my permission. “Yes,” I say. “Yes.”
Forrest exhales his relief against my breasts before slowly sitting back on his heels. As he does, the towel finally gives up its valiant efforts and falls away. I can only gape at the sight of him, completely naked and kneeling before me. But then he plants open-mouthed kisses on my trembling thighs, on the creases of my groin, everywhere but where I need him, and all I can do is hold on to his shoulders for dear life.
“Please,” I beg in a hoarse whisper, my hands sliding up his neck into his hair, gripping.
He doesn’t seem to hear me. His slow, teasing licks and kisses continue, and I’m about to repeat my plea when one of his big hands wraps completely around my right ankle. It begins to slide up slowly, making a light, teasing trail up the back of my calf while his kisses draw ever closer to where I ache the most. I’m panting, arching my hips to no avail, when his hand finally reaches the back of my knee. When he smoothly picks up my leg and places my foot on the bench beside the door, I can’t help my gasp.
“Is this okay?” he asks, looking up at me from where he’s licking my newly opened inner thigh.
Is itokay? Isoxygenokay? It feels incredible, and he hasn’t even touched me yet. I’ve never felt so vulnerable, exposed, or powerful in all my life.
What comes out is a breathless “Uh-huh.”
He smiles like he’s heard my thoughts, and then his hand is back. This time it’s moving up my other leg, as slowly as before. It’sjust like him to approach foreplay with the same careful attention he gives everything else in his life, and if it didn’t feel so maddeningly good, I’d probably slap him to go faster. When he finally places the softest kiss on top of where all my need radiates from, I’m so worked up I nearly buck into his face. “Oh my God,” I say, eyelashes fluttering at the ceiling.
“Fuck,” he says in a reverent voice. “You’re so ready for me, aren’t you? So fucking perfect.”
He kisses me again, but this time he lingers. Gently rubs his full lips back and forth across me until I feel myself open for him. His slowly sliding hand is up to my midthigh when I begin to tremble. I’ve never been teased like this before—until I’m almost feral with need. At the first hot stroke of his tongue, I have to bite back a scream. When he sucks my clit tight between his warm lips, I ascend to a higher plane. In my delirium, I swear I’ll let us both die of heat exhaustion before I ever let him take his perfect mouth off me again.
