Chapter 42
A soft breeze blows across the high plains of Montana.
The temperature has dropped along with the setting sun.
I pull my wool blanket tighter around my shoulders, shivering as the firelight flickers and dances against the dark canvas of the sky.
The stars are out in full force, so bright they shimmer like diamonds.
We’re miles from anywhere. Just Easton and me, pitched in a little hollow where the sagebrush clings to the earth like greenish-gray ghosts.
The silence out here isn’t empty. It’s heavy with the weight of thoughts.
Easton is sitting on a log a few feet from the fire, watching the flames and drinking a cup of coffee.
The smell of woodsmoke mixes with the sharp tang of brush.
The cold has seeped into my bones, making me restless, needy for something more than just heat.
After walking toward the fire, I pull the blanket from around my shoulders.
I shake it out, and smoke curls beneath it as it spreads over the dirt near the flames.
I take a seat on it, my weight shifting against the hard, unforgiving ground beneath me, and pat the empty blanket beside me.
Easton watches me intently, his chocolate eyes cutting through the darkness. He doesn’t say a word as he stands and rounds the fire. Instead of sitting immediately, he takes up residency a few feet away.
The firelight casts long shadows across his face, highlighting the sharp angle of his jaw and the furrow of concentration between his brows.
The faintest of smirks tugs at the corner of his mouth, and he pats his hand against his thigh.
I hesitate for a second, my lips pursing.
Unable to deny his silent request, I push onto my hands and knees before crawling to him.
When I reach him, his fingers slip beneath my chin.
They are warm despite the cool night air.
He tilts my face upward until we’re almost touching.
He brushes his lips against mine, soft and chaste, lingering just long enough to feel the spark between us.
His strong arms cocoon me, pulling me close as I squeal in surprise.
It draws a small laugh from him as he wraps his blanket around us both.
The wool is scratchy against my skin, but the heat trapped inside it is intense.
I lean back into his chest, pillowing my head on his shoulder as both his arms surround around me, securing me.
The steady thud of his heart against my back is a metronome in the quiet night.
“Too cold?” he murmurs, his voice rough but tinged with concern. He nuzzles the top of my head, his lips brushing over my hair as he awaits a response.
“A little,” I whisper, craning my neck to look at him. The flames glow in his eyes, turning them to molten golden brown. “But it’s not the cold I’m worried about.”
He smiles, a slow, predatory grin, sending a shiver skittering down my spine that has nothing to do with the temperature.
His hand moves from my waist to my thigh, his fingers tracing the inner seam of my jeans.
The pressure is light, almost absent-minded, but it sparks my nerves.
I squeeze my legs together, a useless attempt to quell the ache building low in my belly.
He presses his lips to my ear, the warm breath blowing over them a stark contrast to the chill in the air. “Then what are you worried about, Teagan?” he asks, his voice is a low rumble that vibrates through my entire body.
I can’t form words. I just shake my head—a small, helpless motion. He eases my thighs open and his hand slides higher, his thumb brushing against the denim-covered apex of my thighs. I gasp, my hips bucking involuntarily. He chuckles, a deep, satisfied sound.
He knows exactly what he’s doing to me.
“Use your words, wildfire,” he coaxes, his other hand cupping my jaw. He tilts my head back, forcing me to meet his gaze over my shoulder. His eyes are suddenly dark, the gold from the fire swallowed by a deep, primal hunger. “Tell me what you want.”
I swallow hard, my throat suddenly dry as the Terry Badlands. “I want you,” I breathe out, the words barely a whisper.
A slow smile spreads across his face. “Good girl.” The praise sends a wave of heat through me, making me pliant and eager to please.
He leans in and captures my mouth in a kiss that’s both tender and possessive.
His tongue sweeps against mine, tasting faintly of coffee, as I twist in his hold.
I melt into him, my hands coming up to grip the front of the worn, soft cotton of his shirt.
The kiss deepens, growing more urgent. His hand tightens on my thigh, the fingers digging into my flesh so hard it almost hurts.
By the time he breaks our kiss, his breathing is ragged.
He reaches for the hem of my sweater, and his fingers brush against my stomach.
I arch into his touch, silently begging for more.
He pulls the sweater over my head, tossing it aside.
The cold air hits my skin, raising goosebumps, but the look in his eyes is enough to burn me from the inside out.
Reaching behind me, he deftly unhooks my bra.
He slides it off, his knuckles grazing my ribs as he drags the straps down my arms. My nipples pebble in the cold air, and I can’t help but shiver.
“Lie down,” he commands, his voice leaving no room for argument.
I obey without hesitation, shifting so I’m on my back on the wool blanket.
He looms over me, his body blocking the firelight, casting me in a shadow.
His gaze roams over my skin, like he’s taking the time to memorize every curve and freckle.
“So beautiful,” he murmurs, more to himself than to me.
He lowers his head, his mouth closing over one breast. His tongue is hot and wet, and it almost burns in contrast to the cool night air.
He swirls it around my nipple, teasing it into a tight peak before sucking gently.
I cry out, arching off the blanket as my hands fly to his hair and tangle in the thick, dark strands.
He lavishes the same attention on my other breast, his hand kneading the one his mouth just left.
The dual sensations are a delicious torment that has me writhing beneath him.
I can feel my wetness soaking my jeans, my body silently matching my wordless pleas for more.
He releases my nipple with a soft pop, his lips trailing a path down my stomach. His tongue dips into my navel, and I squirm, a giggle bubbling up my throat. He looks at me, a playful glint in his eyes. “Ticklish?”
“A little,” I admit, my voice breathy.
His grin widens as he kisses along my stomach, his lips and tongue leaving a trail of fire in their wake. When he reaches the waistband of my jeans, his fingers hook into the belt loops, and he looks up at me with a serious expression. “Say it again,” he insists, his voice low and demanding.
“I want you, Easton,” I confess, my voice clear and steady this time. “I want all of you.”
Satisfaction gleams in his eyes, and he makes quick work of my jeans, tugging them down, along with my panties.
I’m completely exposed to him, to the night, and to the raw, untamed wilderness around us.
He settles between my legs, his broad shoulders pushing my thighs apart.
He looks up at me one last time, a silent question in his eyes.
I answer by nodding, a slow, deliberate movement.
I’m giving myself over to him, completely and without reservation.
He lowers his head, and the first touch of his tongue against my core is a shock.
I gasp, my hips jerking off the blanket as he licks me from entrance to clit.
His tongue swirls around it before he draws it into his mouth.
He’s not gentle. He devours me, exploring every fold and sensitive spot.
He’s a man possessed, driven by a singular, primal need to taste me.
To claim me. He repeatedly pushes me to the edge and holds me there, leaving me teetering on the precipice of oblivion.
“Easton,” I gasp, needing him to let me come, when he denies me yet again. “Please…”
“Your pleasure is mine, and you come when I decide to let you.”
My hands fist the blanket, my knuckles blanched white as I struggle to breathe.
I’m lost to a haze of sensation, the world narrowing to the exquisite pleasure he’s giving me.
He licks and sucks, his movements sure and confident.
He knows my body better than I do. He slides a finger inside me, then another, curling them.
The pressure against my G-spot is exquisite, a delicious counterpoint to the relentless stimulation of his tongue.
The tension coils in my core, a tight knot of pleasure that’s about to snap.
He hums against me, and the vibration sends me over the edge.
My back arches, a silent scream tearing from my throat as the release crashes over me.
It’s an explosive detonation of pleasure that leaves me breathless, my thighs shaking violently against his face.
He doesn’t stop, his tongue and fingers work me through the aftershocks, drawing out a string of successive orgasms until I’m begging him to stop.