Page 66 of Falling for the Playboy Pilot

“It’s beautiful,” I said. “I get it. This is healing. Just being out here with nature.”

He took a long pull from his beer. “It’s peaceful.”

I drank as well, enjoying the frosty beverage. “We all deserve a little peace sometimes.”

He nodded. “Yep. I usually don’t bring anyone out here. They just ruin it.”

“Thank you for sharing your peace with me,” I said softly. “I hope I’m not messing it up.”

“Not at all.” He put both bottles on a nearby table and then turned back to me. “You make things better.”

He covered my mouth with his and his tongue pushed inside. Then he drew in a sharp breath and pulled back.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, searching his face.

He grinned and shook his head. “You’re still spicy.”

“Oh, I’m sorry⁠—”

“No, come here. I like it.” He dove back in, feasting on my lips before his mouth trailed kisses along my jawline to my earlobe.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” he murmured, sending delicious shivers down my spine.

I slid my hands up under his shirt, loving the feel of all that hardness. I knew where the tattoos were and could practically feel them burning my palms.

He groaned softly, arching into my touch, and looked at me with hooded eyes. “Do you want this?” he asked gruffly, one hand fisting in my hair to pull my head back gently.

“God yes,” I breathed out.

He kissed me again, deeper this time, his hands roaming over my body with a hunger that made my knees weak. When he pulled back, his breathing was ragged.

“Hold on,” he said, his voice rough with desire. He disappeared inside for a moment, and I heard the soft sound of music drifting from the cabin. It was something low and bluesy that seemed to wrap around us in the darkness.

When he returned, he took my hand and led me through the cabin to his bedroom. The space was simple, like the rest of the house, dominated by a king-sized bed with dark sheets. Moonlight filtered through the windows. Again, I could imagine waking up in the morning and my first sight being the tree-covered mountains.

He turned to face me, his hands framing my face, and he kissed me again, slower this time, more deliberately. His thumbs traced along my cheekbones as he pulled back to look at me like something precious. Something he never wanted to let go of.

I reached for the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head. The moonlight revealed the intricate tattoos covering his chest and arms. I had to taste him, so I kissed over his collarbone and ran my tongue over his chest. I groaned at the feel of him, radiating strength.

He sucked in a sharp breath as I traced one of the designs with my fingertip. “Tell me about this one,” I whispered.

“Later,” he growled, his hands finding the zipper of my sundress. “I’ll tell you about all of them later.”

The dress pooled at my feet a second later. I felt his gaze burning over my skin. He was looking at me like I was the last slice of pineapple upside down cake. It made my heart race and my skin flush with heat.

His hands were everywhere at once. He pushed my thong down and then pushed me onto the bed. I slid up and rested my head on his pillow. When he reached into the nightstand drawer, I felt a flutter of anticipation mixed with nervousness. This was really happening. This beautiful, complicated man who carried so much pain was letting me in.

He watched me as he quickly stripped. My mouth watered at the sight. A second later he was rolling a condom down his full length, proud and ready like a prize stallion. I could see the same hot desire in his eyes that I felt in my own chest.

“Come here,” he said softly, reaching for me.

I went to him willingly, ready to lose myself in him completely. He covered my body with his. His mouth found mine again, and this time there was nothing gentle about it. It was desperate, hungry, like he was trying to pour all the things he couldn’t say into the kiss.

I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer, needing to feel every inch of him against me. “Janna,” he whispered against my lips. “You make me crazy.”

I arched beneath him, every nerve ending alive with want. “Good, so do you,” I breathed, not caring how desperate I sounded.

He positioned himself at my entrance, his eyes locked on mine. “Are you ready?” he asked, his voice strained with the effort of holding back.