Page 55 of Hearts Storm

When I nip at his lower lip, he growls. The sound vibrates through my chest as he rolls his hips again. The friction is exquisite—verging on torture—and I can’t help the whimper that escapes my throat.

“Damn it, Brex,” I gasp against his mouth when he breaks away to trail kisses along my jaw and down my neck. His teeth graze my pulse point, causing my back to arch off the ground.

“Fuck, you taste good,” he murmurs against my skin, sucking at the hollow of my throat. “Even covered in mud.”

My laugh is breathless and giddy as my hands slide up his back, reveling in the way his powerful muscles flex beneath my palms. “You’re insane. We’re deep in the woods, lying in mud, and there’s a tree—one that almost took us out, by the way—literally two feet away...”

“Don’t care.” His next kiss is much slower, deeper, his tongue exploring every inch of my mouth until I’m dizzy. “Totally worth it.”

Just as I’m about to remind him how we’re supposed to be keeping this professional. About how this is exactly what Logan warned us not to do, the radio crackles to life.

“Saint. Report your status. Over.”

Brex freezes, his lips still pressed against mine. Chests heaving, mud caked in our hair and his cock still very much pressed against me, he lifts his head.

“Saint. Do you copy? Over.”

With a frustrated groan, Brex drops his forehead to mine, his breath coming in ragged pants. “Fucking hell.”

I bite my lip to keep from laughing. Or crying. Honestly, between almost getting smooshed and our make-out sesh, I’m not sure what I’m feeling at this point.

Brex reaches for his radio, still hovering above me, his body a delicious cage of heat and muscle. “This is Saint. Narrowly missed getting smashed by a falling tree. No serious injuries. Over.”

“Jesus,” the dispatcher replies, before clearing his throat and switching back to professional mode. “You two be careful out there. Over and out.”

Clipping the radio back to his belt with a huff, Brex pushes up, bracing himself on his hands. “Guess that means playtime is over,” he smirks. “For now.”

I roll my eyes as he gets to his feet, extending a muddy hand to help me up.

“Ha.” Giving him a look that says ‘In your dreams,’ I grab hold of his outstretched hand. My boots slip in the mud, and I stumble against his chest, which earns me another cocky grin.

“Careful there, Pretty,” he growls, hands lingering on my waist a beat too long. “Wouldn’t want you to have another accident.”

“Wouldn’t want to have to report you for sexual harassment,” I counter, my voice lacking any real conviction.

Brex’s eyes widen. “You wouldn’t.”

“Try me.” I raise an eyebrow, stepping back to put some much-needed distance between us.

We stand there for a moment, covered in mud, still a little breathless, next to the fallen tree. A blatant reminder of how close we came to death.

Adrenaline still courses through my veins, making my skin tingle and my heart race as he steps into me.

Hands lifting to cup my face, his eyes bounce, searching mine as he caresses the back of my head again. “You sure you’re okay? We can head back to the truck. Get you to the station so someone can check you out.”

The thrill of his concern wars with a sharp pang of annoyance. “I’m good. My head hurts a little, but my vision is clear.”

For a moment, he looks like he might argue, but then he backs off. “Okay, but the second you feel dizzy or nauseous, you tell me. Deal?”

“Deal.”

“Come on.” Brex nods toward what’s left of the trail. “We should finish the sweep before dispatch sends a search party.”

Clothes soaked with mud and rain, I move to follow. But as we trudge through the muck, I can’t help stealing glances at Brex’s broad back, already missing the weight of him on top of me, the taste of him on my tongue.

“Um,” he says after we’ve walked in silence for a few minutes. “About what just happened⁠—”

“Nothing happened,” I interrupt, keeping my eyes fixed on the trail ahead. “We fell. You landed on me. We got up.”