Page 75 of Easy, Tiger

"I'm glad we survived long enough to do this."

His laugh rumbles against my throat. "Planning to survive a lot longer."

"Good." I nip at his jaw. "Because I have plans for you as well, Maren."

Pushing him gently by the shoulders, I guide him to sit back against the wall, then swing my legs over him. He draws me fully into his lap, crossing his legs on the narrow bed so I'm straddling his thighs, entirely enveloped by his heat. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I bury my face in his shoulder as he kisses the side of my head, mapping every inch of my skin with his hands like he needs to prove to himself I'm really here and unharmed.

"You're safe," he says softly, his hands sliding down to cup my hips. "You're right here."

I guide him to my entrance, and with a soft, shuddering breath, I sink down onto him. He fills me completely, the stretch so profound and perfect it punches a gasp out of both of us. His arms wrap tight around my lower body, sealing me flush against his build, unmoving for a suspended heartbeat. The narrow bunk barely fits us both like this, his knees braced wide against the mattress edges, and when he tips his head back to catch his breath, he catches himself a half-second before it would've cracked against the frame of the bunk above us, a low huff of laughter breaking through the tension.

"Careful," I manage, breathless, my hand sliding up to cup the back of his skull protectively.

"Worth the risk." His forehead lowers to mine instead, his heartbeat hammering against my own breastbone. "I swear, Halsey. You feel incredible."

"Move," I whisper, my voice half plea, half demand. "Nolan, please."

He obliges, his hands gripping my hips to lift me slightly before pulling me back down, mindful to keep the motion contained to the small space we've got. The rhythm is deep, seated, and achingly intimate, made more intense by how close together we're forced to stay. Wrapping my legs around his waist, I lock my ankles behind his back to draw him even closer. Because we're seated facing each other, there's nowhere to look but into his eyes. Every flicker of devotion, every ounce of restraint slipping off his face with each upward thrust is visible as we move together in a space barely big enough to contain what's happening.

His hands are strong, bracing me as the pace begins to quicken. The friction builds, an undeniable, scalding heat radiating from our core, sending shockwaves of pure sensation up my spine. My nails bite into his shoulders as I meet his rhythm, shoving myself down exactly as he surges upward, burying himself as deep as physically possible. I can feel the solid, corded muscles of his thighs flexing beneath me, anchoring me to him in the storm of our shared movement.

"When this is over," he groans against my throat, his control straining, "I'm taking you home to our bed. Gonna worship every inch of you until you forget your own name."

I rake my nails lightly down his back, shuddering as a particularly deep thrust hits exactly the right spot. "What else?"

"Every room in that house." He quickens the pace, rocking his hips up to meet my downward slide, creating a friction that makes my head fall back. "Against the kitchen counter while coffee brews. In front of the fireplace on winter nights. In the shower until the water runs cold."

The images he's painting make me clench around him involuntarily. He lets out a low, ragged sound, his hands sliding up from my hips to cup my breasts, his thumbs circling my nipples while his hips drive relentlessly upward. The seated angle forces us extra deep, the slick heat and raw emotion building into a heavy, suffocating pressure in my belly that demands release.

"Gonna cover you in my scent so deep that every shifter for miles knows you're mine. Mark you so thoroughly—" He catches my mouth in a kiss that tastes like forever. He buries his face into my neck, his lips blazing a possessive trail over my pulse points, grounding me in his heat.

The possessive edge to the gesture sends a primal thrill straight to my core.

"No one will ever question who you belong to," he growls, his voice a low, vibrating rumble that I feel all the way down to where our bodies are joined.

"Yes." The word breaks on a moan as he hits that perfect spot again, sensation sparking bright behind my eyes. "All of it, yes. Nolan, don't stop."

He lays back suddenly, pulling me down with him so I'm flush against his chest, his arms banded tight around me. The abrupt change in gravity shifts the angle, driving him deeper. He thrusts up from below, his control finally fraying at the edges, and every movement drags a fresh gasp out of both of us. The rhythmic creak of the old bunk bed mingles with the soft hush of our breathing. We are tangled completely, wrapped in each other so tightly I can't tell where I end and he begins. Sweat beads on our skin despite the cabin's chill, a localized inferno burning between us.

"Close," I manage, my fingers fisting desperately in his hair. "Nolan, I'm so close⁠—"

"Give it to me. Let go." He rolls his hips, grinding perfectly against my center with brutal, exquisite accuracy, and that's what breaks me entirely.

We shatter together. My cry is muffled against his neck, his name a desperate prayer on my lips as wave after wave of blinding pleasure crashes through me. He follows with a sound that's part growl, part sob, burying his face in my hair as he rides out his own violent release, his hips snapping upward one last time as he fills me. As our breathing slows into exhausted, ragged pants, his rough stubble scrapes my skin in a possessive caress. "Mine," he growls softly against my collarbone.

We lie motionless as our breathing slows, hearts hammering against each other in the small space between us. Eventually he repositions his weight, easing us both onto our sides, and slides the wool blanket up over the two of us before nestling back against the narrow mattress with me tucked into the curve of his body.

We lie wrapped together beneath the rough wool blanket, my head pillowed on Nolan's chest while the fire burns softly in the corner. His fingers draw lazy patterns along my spine, and I can feel his heartbeat gradually slowing to match mine. The storm continues to rage outside, but here in our cocoon of warmth, the world feels perfectly serene.

"I've been thinking," I confess against his skin, breathing in the cedar and woodshop scent that always clings to him.

"Dangerous habit." His chest rumbles with laughter. "What about?"

"That first day I arrived in Red Pine. Standing on the overlook, wondering if I'd made a terrible mistake coming here. If running away to the middle of nowhere was just another form of giving up."

His hand stops against my back. "And?"

"I've always cherished my choice to stay. Every moment brought me closer—discovering the wounded tiger by the creek, hearing the truth of what you are, and even surviving Nico's bindings in that tent today." I touch the scar along his collarbone with one fingertip, the pale, faded lines on my own wrists are a testament to everything we've survived. "Every choice that led me here led me to you—I'd make them all again."