“Yeah? Right there?” he whispers, bringing a shaking hand up to brush a tangled lock of hair from my face.
“Mmm.” I nod frantically, hardly knowing what to do with allthis pressure inside me. But that glorious spot he’s found starts demanding more, and soon my small, hungry movements turn desperate, until I’m lifting up on my knees and dropping back down, over and over and—
Without warning, he sits up, and the change of angle takes my breath away. I grip his shoulders, and it’s even better because he’s closer. Deeper. I’m drugged on the smell of his damp skin. On the flush of his high cheekbones and the grip of his hands as I ride him harder.
“God, just look at you,” he pants, his voice wrecked as we look down at where I’m split wide for him, taking him deep. “Tell me you love it, sweetheart. Tell me it’s good.”
“Yes,” I moan, head falling back as I begin to shake at the edge of something tectonic. “I love it,” I cry, working him harder as he drags his mouth up my arching throat. “I love it so much. I love the way you feel. I love…”you,I finish silently. The thought is a firework, illegally lit and startling. But then his hand reaches between us and he’s thumbing my clit, and all my thoughts scatter. “Forrest—”
“Fuck—” he growls in response, stroking me harder. “Give it to me, Margot. I’m not going to last.” And I can see it in every taut line of his body and the sweat sheening his throat and shoulders. I can feel him inside me, pulsing with the need to let go.
It takes three, maybe four, more strokes of his thumb, and the world ends. I cry out, spasming around him as his hand moves faster, strumming me past the bounds of any pleasure I’ve ever experienced. Until it’s just too much—too big to contain in one person’s body. But in a moment, he’s in it with me, eyes slamming shut as he roars into my sweat-slicked skin, and I’m no longer alone. We bear it together, lines blurring, hearts melding, blood racing, until his strength is mine and mine is his, and I feel like I could withstand anything at all.
Anything but losing him.
22FORREST
I come back to earth in pieces. I feel her steady breathing on my chest, her hair tickling my shoulder, and her leg tucked between mine. Each point of contact seems to glow as I become aware of it. Her eyelashes blink against my chest, and I open my eyes.
“Forrest?” she says, and the drowsy confusion in her voice—the way my name’s the first word out of her beautiful mouth—is something I enjoy to a disturbing degree. To a one-way-ticket-to-Los-Angeles degree. To a what’s-your-thread-count-preference-so-you-never-want-to-leave-my-bed degree.
“Right here, sweetheart,” I say, sliding a hand down her back.
She lifts her head to look at me, her hair a mess, cheeks pink, lips swollen. She gives me a sleepy half-smile, showing off one of those dimples, and I’m a dead man. I feel weak as a baby bird knocked out of its nest, but somehow, I’m already getting hard again, just looking at her like this. Roughed up. Tender. As soon as the thought occurs, the question is out of my mouth. “You feel okay? I didn’t hurt you?”
She gives an experimental wiggle that has me counting to ten. “I’ll live. I just need to sit in a snowbank for an hour.”
She’s teasing, but it doesn’t stop the rush of guilt spearingthrough me. I knew I was too rough with her, and I wasn’t even on top.Thank God. She’s so much smaller than I am, but I just couldn’t—
“Forrest. Stop.” She grabs my chin and pulls my face to look straight at her. “I’m good. I’m better than good. That was—” Her lashes drop. Her thighs tighten around mine, andChrist. Will we ever see the outside of this cabin again?
“Terrible?” I finish for her as my hand continues traveling south. “Not worth the trip?”
Her eyes close as my thigh nudges hers farther apart, my fingers lightly following the curve of her ass downward. “Ahh—definitely zero Chars.”
My hand stops short of its goal as a deep rumble of laughter builds in my chest. “That’s just cruel.”
I can feel her smiling into my neck. “Fine. I’ll give you one.”
“Only one, huh?” I say, wrapping an arm around her back and flipping us. She gasps but doesn’t argue when I start working my way down her body with my mouth. “I bet I can earn another.”
A good while later, I’m propped up against the headboard, my rating up to a solid three, and her back is a limp noodle against my chest. I kiss her damp temple, breathing deeply and pulling her tighter against me.
“Don’t you even start again,” she says weakly, her head lolling against me. “My legs will fall off.”
I chuckle, releasing her enough to hold two fists in front of her. “Fine. Pick one.”
At this she rouses a little, tensing against me. “Oh, God, this isn’t about tomorrow, is it? You aren’t, like, making me choose between cliff rappelling or heli-skiing, are you?”
I smile into her hair, nuzzling the silky gold locks, and fine. Iprefer blondes. This blonde. Sue me. “Tomorrow’s excursion is canceled,” I murmur. “This storm’s going all night.”
She turns, tipping her head back to look at me. “Wait. You’re telling me we’re literally getting snowed in right now?”
I kiss the tip of her nose. “Your favorite trope?”
She snuggles back into my chest with a contented hum. “It definitely is now.”
I lift my fists back up. “Pick.”
