Chapter Eight
Crew’s blood pounded in his ears as he led Fern through the lodge’s side entrance. His hand engulfed hers, and she held on tight.
The hallway stretched ahead, dim and blessedly empty. Most of the guys were still outside working or grabbing lunch in the dining hall. His room was at the end—too damn far when all he could think about was getting his mouth on her again.
“Crew.” Her voice was breathless behind him, and he slowed, looking back.
The flush on her cheeks, the way her lips were still swollen from his kiss—Christ, she was beautiful. And she was here. With him. Choosing him.
“Changed your mind?” he asked, even as the thought made his chest tighten.
“No.” She stepped closer, her free hand sliding up his bare chest. “Just wondering if we’re going to make it to your room.”
Heat licked through him, settling low and insistent. “You keep touching me like that, and the answer’s no.”
Her smile was pure sweetness mixed with sin. “Good to know.”
He growled and pulled her the rest of the way down the hall. His door was unlocked—always was—and he shouldered it open, drawing her inside before kicking it shut behind them.
The lock clicked.
Then she was in his arms, and he was backing her against the wall, his mouth finding hers in a kiss that obliterated any remaining space between them. She gasped against his lips, and he swallowed the sound, one hand braced beside her head while the other gripped her hip.
“Wanted this,” he muttered against her mouth. “Wanted you.”
“Then take me.”
Her hands were everywhere—his shoulders, his chest, trailing down his abs. When her fingers grazed the waistband of his jeans, he caught her wrist, pinning it gently above her head.
“Not yet.” His voice was gravel and need. “I told you I was going to take off all your clothes. Kiss every inch of you. I keep my promises.”
Her eyes darkened, pupils blown wide. “Crew—”
He silenced her with another kiss, this one slower, deeper. His free hand found the hem of her shirt and slid beneath, fingers spreading over the warm skin of her stomach. She trembled, arching into his touch.
“So damn soft,” he murmured, dragging his mouth along her jaw. He nipped at the spot just below her ear, and she moaned, the sound shooting straight to his cock.
He pulled back just enough to tug her shirt over her head and toss it aside. Her bra was simple, pale pink, and did absolutely nothing to contain the swell of her breasts or conceal those nipples that enticed him the minute he saw them straining against her top.
He traced the edge of her bra cup with one finger, watching her chest rise and fall in rapid breaths.
“Beautiful,” he growled.
She bit her lip, and he wanted to bite it too. Wanted to taste every part of her.
He moved his hands to the clasp at her back, and she helped him, shrugging out of the straps. When he freed her breasts, he couldn’t stop the groan that tore from his throat.
“Christ. Fern.” Her name was a prayer.
He cupped her breasts, thumbs brushing over her nipples. They pebbled under his touch, and she gasped, head falling back against the wall.
“You like that?” he asked, doing it again.
“Yes.” The word was barely a whisper.
He lowered his head, taking one nipple into his mouth. She cried out, fingers tangling in his hair, holding him there. He sucked and licked, then switched to the other side, giving it the same attention until she was writhing against him.
“Crew, please.”
“Please what, honey?”
“More. I need more.”
He straightened, his hands going to the button of her jeans. “These need to go.”
She nodded frantically, helping him shove the denim down her hips. He dropped to his knees, pulling the jeans off completely, along with her boots and socks. When he looked up, she was standing there in nothing but pale pink panties that matched the bra, her chest heaving, her eyes locked on him.
“You’re killing me,” he said, running his hands up her calves, over her knees, along her thighs.
“Good.” Her voice shook, but her smile was pure mischief.
He hooked his fingers in the waistband of her panties and dragged them down, tossing them aside. Then he was staring at her, all of her, and his mouth went dry. The short, reddish-brown curls covering her mound left him with no question whatsoever that her hair color was real.
“Crew.” There was uncertainty in her voice now, and he couldn’t have that.
He pressed a kiss to her hip. “You’re so damn perfect.”
Another kiss, lower. Her breath hitched.
“I’m going to taste you now.” His voice was rough with promise and his tenuous grip on control. “And you’re going to let me hear every sound you make.”
“Yes.” A shiver rolled through her.
He guided her to the bed, and she came willingly, sitting on the edge. He knelt between her legs, palms spreading her thighs wider.
“Lie back.”
She obeyed, and he couldn’t stop looking at her—splayed out on his bed, flushed and wanting. For him.
He kissed the inside of her knee, then higher, trailing his mouth along the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. She squirmed, and he gripped her hips, holding her still.
“Patience.”
“I don’t have any,” she panted.
He chuckled against her skin. “You will.”
When his mouth finally found her center, she arched off the bed with a broken cry. He trailed his tongue down her seam, nice and slow, until her fingers found his hair and she twisted them in the too-long locks.
With a groan, he teased her open. As soon as he tasted her liquid heat, his cock gave a hard surge against his fly.
He was the one who needed a lesson in patience right now. With slow intent, he licked her straining clit until her hips bucked. Then he sucked, taking his time, learning what made her issue those sweet, throaty moans a man could live off.
Whenever he gave her bud a harder pull with his lips, she began to shake. Christ. Who knew all this time what he needed was this—a stunning woman, quirky and dedicated to caring for dead plants. A woman who made his heartbeat double every time he looked at her.
“Crew—oh god—”
He slid one finger inside her, then two, crooking them just right. Her hands fisted in the comforter, and he could feel her tightening around him.
“That’s it,” he murmured against her, watching her beautiful face flush and those freckles stand out even more. He sucked on her clit using the pressure he knew made her tremble as he slowly fucked her with his finger. “Let go, honey. Come for me.”
At his gritty demand, she spiked upward. She held her breath as her body bowed. Her hips hovered in the air for a beat before she shattered, his name a ragged sob on her lips.
Emotion arced to his heart like an electric jolt. He’d never met anyone like Fern in all his life. And who knew—all this time—she was what he was missing?
He worked her through the tight clench and release of her orgasm, loving her grasp on his hair, and gentling his touch as she came down and her cries turned to soft coos. He pressed gentle kisses to her thigh until a final shudder rolled through her.
When he looked up, she was staring at him, her expression dazed and sated. A slow, lazy smile curved her lips, and something shifted in his chest.
He may not know what he wanted in life, but he knew he wanted to put that smile on her face every damn day.
Wanted to make her feel cherished, desired.
Safe from whatever scared her—or was coming for her.
The realization should have terrified him. A month ago, it would have. But now, with Fern looking at him like he’d just given her the world, it felt right.
He climbed onto the bed, settling beside her, and she immediately curled into him, her hand resting over his heart.
“You okay?” He searched her face, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek.
“Better than okay.” Her voice was soft, content.
He pressed a kiss to her forehead, then her nose, then her lips. She hummed against his mouth, her leg sliding over his hip, opening herself to him again.
“Fern—”
“I want all of you,” she whispered, skating her fingers down his abs. “Please, Crew.”
His control snapped. In seconds, he had his jeans and boots off, aware of her eyelids dipping over her smoldering eyes the way they did back in the garden when she studied his tattoos.
She threw him a grin that sent his heart into an uneven beat.
His hands shook as he rolled on one of the condoms they provided the guys in the program, but most of them never used.
The only guy he knew who had a sex life was Pope, because he’d taken a fancy to a woman who worked at one of the bars in town.
Crew pinned Fern in his stare. Her breath stuttered and lips popped open at whatever she saw on his face.
“I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anybody.”
“Me too.” Her rasp skittered through his senses.
He wrapped her in his arms and kissed her long and deep. Each stroke of their tongues rekindled the fire he’d seen in her eyes when she peaked on his tongue.
Her fingers dug into his biceps like she didn’t want to let go. And hell, he didn’t want her to.
He settled between her thighs, his throbbing cock pressing against her entrance. She was wet and ready, and he had to close his eyes for a second, fighting for composure.
“Look at me, Crew,” she said. And he did.
Her eyes were clear, trusting. No hesitation. No fear.
Just want.
Just him.
“Ready?” he roughed out, sliding between her open thighs.
“So ready.” She rolled her body to meet him.
As he pushed inside, slow and careful, he watched her face for any sign of discomfort. But there was only pleasure, her eyes fluttering closed as she stretched around him.
“Fern.” Her name came out guttural, raw.
“Move,” she urged, her nails digging into his shoulders. “Please move!”
He did, setting a rhythm that had them both gasping. She met him thrust for thrust, her body arching beneath his, and he couldn’t look away from her—the way her lips parted, the flush spreading down her chest, the way she gasped his name.
This wasn’t just sex. It was more. So much more. They both felt it.