Page 51 of Mountain Target

His hands gripped her hips. In an instant, her jeans were gone, as was that little scrap of lace. She had no difficulty imagining what she looked like—naked from the waist down, with her bra pulled under her breasts.

Wanton.

Sex-crazed.

He didn’t give her a chance to become self-conscious.

“You’re so fucking sexy,” Beau said. He took off his polo shirt, and that’s when her throat went dry and raw. He was like a sculpture—broad about his shoulders and narrow at the hips, his pecs defined as if they’d been carved in stone, angled with hard lines. A marble sculpture that’d been chipped and scarred in places, and she wanted to kiss each and every one of those scars.

His deep voice brought her back. “I need to taste you.”

She wanted it—wanted it so bad her pussy was hurting for it, but her mind chose that moment to slam on the brakes.

How long ago had she showered?

She’d never let anybody do that to her without showering just before.

He seemed to sense her discomfort.

“You okay, Valentina? Should we slow down?”

She giggled, imagining what it would feel like if he licked her slowly, before realizing he was serious about stopping.

“Don’t you dare slow down,” she hissed. “I need more, not less.”

Her hand came out to touch the thick bulge around his dark pants, and this time he was the one who gasped. Emboldened by his reaction, she undid the button, then used both hands to bring down the zipper, releasing his erection.

For an instant, she forgot her own name. He was gorgeous—his cock thick and uncut and clearly so very happy to see her.

He stood still as a statue as she explored.

“You’re going to have to breathe at some point,” she teased, running her hand down his chest, and his skin was smooth to the touch as she followed the trail of fine, dark hair which led all the way to his cock.

He gasped, his lungs filling up with air. “You little minx,” he groaned. “You’re going to kill me.”

She pulled down his pants and underwear until he was completely naked beside her. All that strength she’d felt up in the mountains, and it was hers for the taking now.

“You okay?” he asked again.

“I thought you were going to taste me.”

He growled and picked her up, and suddenly they were in his bedroom. She had an impression of gray and beige—two colors that really didn’t work together—before he dropped her on the bed. Moments later, her bra was on the floor.

Did he rip it?

The thought should have pissed her off, but instead excited her further. And then his thick, large hands were on her thighs, pressing them further and further apart, and all thoughts fled her head.

Beau

She didn’t taste of flowers or any such shit, because that’s not what vaginas tasted like, but she tasted clean and slightly sweet, and her entire body quivered in a most delicious way.

Fucking delicious.

Beau nipped and licked and sucked, learning what she liked, loving the way she held on to the wooden headboard with her hands, knowing he’d never look at his bed in the same way again.

The thought gave him pause.

Beau liked sex—as much as the next red-blooded male, anyway—but he never brought anyone to his place. He preferred to go to the woman’s home. He’d always told himself he was simply being chivalrous—making sure the woman wouldn’t have to walk home alone afterwards—but knew himself well enough to know he wasn’t being completely honest with himself.