Chapter Twenty-Three
I watch as Harleigh scoots back against the pillows.
I quickly remove my boots and pants, tossing them to the floor beside my discarded shirt. Then join her. I cup the side of her face, her big blue eyes watching me beneath long lashes.
I kiss her once. Deep and slow.
We lie here, breathing each other in as we recover.
She rolls on her side and comes up on her elbow. She reaches over and clasps my wrist, tugging my arm so the moonlight from the cabin window falls across it.
I prop my other arm behind my head as she inspects it.
“I saw a hint of this under your shirt sleeve earlier.” She traces slowly, starting at my shoulder. “Mountains,” she says quietly.
Her fingertip follows the jagged line of the peaks inked across the top of my arm. The tattoo artist caught every ridge and shadow. Her nail drifts along the edge of the tallest peak.
“They look like the Tetons,” she adds.
“They are,” I say.
Her finger glides lower, brushing through the dark lines of the pine trees that cover the outer part of my upper arm, thick and tall, a whole forest climbing down toward my elbow.
“So detailed,” she whispers.
I close my eyes and feel the soft drag of her fingertip weaving through the trees like it’s walking a trail through them. The sensation shoots straight through my chest.
She hums softly as her finger dips down to the river carved through the center of the sleeve. It winds through the forest in a long curve, the shading making the water look like it’s actually moving, dotted with smooth rocks.
Then she pauses at my elbow.
“Oh wow.”
I open one eye.
Her finger moves lower, onto the forearm, where the river explodes into whitewater. Foam and spray curl around the shape of the bear rising out of it.
She traces the bear’s back first, slow and deliberate, following the thick line of its shoulders. The fur is done in layered shading, every stroke meant to look rough and wild. Her finger moves along it like she’s petting a real animal.
“You’ve got a grizzly,” she says.
“Yeah.”
She tilts her head, studying it closer, her hair falling forward and tickling my chest as she leans in. Her finger drifts along the bear’s neck and up toward its head.
“It looks like he’s coming out of the river,” she murmurs.
She traces the water splashing around the bear’s chest, the ink swirling into the mist and current that runs down toward my wrist.
The whole time she’s touching me, she hasn’t noticed how still I’ve gone.
Because if I move, I might ruin it.
Finally, her finger stops near my wrist, where the river fades into darker shadows.
She exhales softly. “This is incredible. Wild. Beautiful.”
Then she looks up at me for the first time since she started.
Her hand is still wrapped around my wrist.
Her thumb is resting right over my pulse.
“I would have never guessed you had it hiding under those suits.”
She releases my wrist and crawls on top of me. My cock stirs back to life as her heat settles between my thighs.
“Condom?”
“My wallet. In my back pocket,” I say.
She stretches like a cat, reaching to the floor beside the bed and retrieving the foil packet.
She rips the wrapper open with her teeth.
Then she takes her time smoothing the latex over my eager erection.
She bends back over my chest to kiss me. I wrap my arms around her, and she lets out a surprised yelp when I twist and flip her onto her back.
With one swift thrust of my hips, I’m inside her. Filling her.
She moans.
I reach back and grasp her left leg and feed it over my hip so I can move deeper as I bury my head in her neck.
“Fuck, you feel good, wrapped around me,” I whisper into her hair.
Her hands twist in the sheets at her sides, and she throws her head back as I pepper kisses down her exposed throat.
She wraps her other leg around me and locks them tightly around my waist, and she raises her hips to meet mine. I pound into her tight heat.
My breaths start coming in short, ragged pants as I try to hold on, but I can feel my balls tighten as the tension coils at the base of my spine.
“Harleigh, baby,” I groan as her muscles constrict around me.
I dig my fingers into her hips as her hands slide down my back to my ass and hold on when I bear up and slip a hand between us, finding her clit.
Her body begins to convulse, and a guttural cry bubbles from her throat, causing me to lose control. My mouth clamps down on hers as my own climax explodes into the condom.
Once spent, I collapse on top of her.
We lie here, holding on to each other, her fingers lazily running through the damp hair at the back of my neck until our pulses calm and the sweat on our skin cools.
Finally, I slide off of her and make my way to the bathroom to discard the condom.
I turn on the sink and splash cool water on my face.
I stare at myself in the mirror for a beat.
You’ve done it now, I tell my reflection, but the man staring back at me doesn’t regret a damn thing.
I grab the towel hanging beside the vanity and scrub it over my face and hair before switching the faucet to warm and wetting it.
I return to her and gently wash between her legs before lying beside her and tugging the quilt over us as she curls into my side.