Chapter four
Luke
I’m losing my goddamn mind, and it’s only been six hours.
Holly is curled on my couch under that flannel blanket, legs tucked beneath her, hair still damp from the shower and falling in waves over one shoulder.
The fire’s throwing gold light across her face, and every time she lifts the cocoa mug to her mouth, I have to look at the ceiling so I don’t do something stupid like crawl across the couch and lick the whipped cream off her lip myself.
We’ve been talking for hours. She told me about her mom, and I told her about mine.
She laughed at my story about the Christmas the goats got into the eggnog and chased Rhett around the yard, drunk.
I laughed until my ribs hurt when she admitted she once planned a wedding with several backup venues and a drone to make sure everything went off without a hitch.
She laughs with her whole body when she lets go. Her head thrown back, hand on her stomach, eyes squeezed shut. I’ve heard it twice tonight, and I’m addicted.
Eventually, she yawns, tries to hide it behind her mug, and fails.
“Bedtime, Boss Lady,” I say, standing before I lose the very last of my self-control.
She stretches, blanket slipping off one shoulder, and I get a flash of collarbone that short-circuits my brain.
“I still don’t have pajamas,” she mutters, like it’s my fault. “I was so worried about everything, I didn’t pack any.”
I clear my throat. “I’ve got T-shirts.”
She raises an eyebrow. “You offering?”
“Wouldn’t be the first time a woman wore my shirt to bed,” I say, then immediately want to bite my tongue off.
Holly’s eyes narrow, but there’s amusement in them. “Lead the way, cowboy.”
I grab the softest shirt I own, an ancient gray high school track team shirt that’s been washed a thousand times, and hand it over. She disappears into the bathroom.
I use the thirty seconds she’s gone to adjust myself, take a deep breath, and remind my dick that we are behaving like gentlemen tonight.
The bathroom door opens.
Jesus fucking Christ.
The shirt hits her mid-thigh, sleeves rolled to her elbows, neckline slipping off one shoulder. Her legs go on for miles. She’s not wearing a bra, I can see the outline of her nipples through the thin cotton, and I’m pretty sure she’s not wearing anything else underneath at all.
She catches me staring and smirks. “Problem?”
“Several,” I rasp. “All of them mine.”
She pads past me into the bedroom like she owns the place. I follow like a dog on a leash.
The bed is king-sized, but it suddenly looks tiny. She climbs in on the left side, pulls the quilt up to her chin, and looks at me expectantly.
“We’ll stay warm if we share the bed, but only if you promise to be on your best behavior.”
I nod as I strip down to my boxer briefs and slide in on the right. The mattress dips. She scoots a respectable six inches away.
We lie there in the dark, firelight flickering through the cracked door, snow hissing against the windows.
“You cold?” I ask, voice rough.
“A little.”
I reach over, hook an arm around her waist, and haul her across the bed until her back is flush against my chest. She lets out a startled squeak that turns into a sigh when my body heat hits her.
“Better?” I murmur against her hair.
“Much,” she whispers.
We stay like that for two minutes or maybe two hours. Time has stopped making sense.
She shifts, ass brushing my groin, and I bite back a groan.
“Sorry,” she says, not sounding sorry at all.
“Liar.”
She laughs softly and does it again, deliberately this time. My hand tightens on her hip.
“Holly.”
“Luke.”
“If you don’t stop, I’m not gonna be able to.”
She turns in my arms, faces me in the dark. I can make out her eyes, huge and unguarded.
“I don’t want you to stop,” she breathes.
That’s all it takes.
I kiss her like I’ve been dying to for two days, hard and hungry, with no more pretending.
She kisses me back like she’s been waiting just as long, fingers spearing into my hair, pulling me closer.
I roll her underneath me, settle between her thighs, and the thin cotton of my shirt is the only thing separating us.
I drag my mouth down her neck, bite the spot where her shoulder meets her throat, and she arches so hard the shirt rides up to her waist.
No panties.
“Fuck, Holly,” I growl against her skin.
She tugs at my boxers. “Off. Now.”
I rear back just long enough to yank them down and kick them off. Then I’m back on her, skin to skin, her legs wrapping around my waist like they were made for it.
I kiss my way down her body, shove the shirt up to her neck, and close my mouth over one perfect nipple. She cries out, fingers digging into my shoulders. I suck and bite until she’s writhing, then move to the other side, giving it the same treatment.
Her hips are rocking against me, slick and desperate. I slide a hand between us, cup her, and groan at how wet she is.
“Luke, please—”
I push two fingers inside her without warning. She’s tight, hot, clenching around me like she’s starving. I curl them, find that spot, and stroke slow and deep while my thumb circles her clit.
She comes hard, back bowing off the bed, my name a broken sob. I keep moving my fingers, drawing it out until she’s shaking and trying to push me away because it’s too much.
I pull my hand free, lick her taste off my fingers while she watches with dark, stunned eyes, then settle back between her thighs.
I reach into my bedside table and grab a condom and rip it open. She watches me roll it on, licks her lips, and I almost lose it right there.
Then I’m pushing inside her. I move slowly at first, because she’s tight and I’m not small, and I need to make sure she can take me. She claws at my back, heels digging into my ass, urging me deeper.
When I’m fully seated, we both exhale like we’ve been holding our breath for days.
“Move,” she whispers.
I do.
I fuck her slow and deep at first, savoring every inch, every sound she makes. Then faster, harder, until the headboard is slamming against the wall and she’s chanting my name like a prayer.
She comes again, clenching around me so hard my vision whites out. I follow her over with a guttural curse, burying myself deep and coming harder than I have in my entire life.
We collapse in a tangle of limbs, sweat, and ragged breathing. I dispose of the condom, pull her into my arms, and she curls against my chest like she belongs there.
Her head fits perfectly under my chin. One of her legs is thrown over mine. My hand is on her ass.
Outside, the storm keeps raging. Inside, the only sound is our breathing slowing together.
She traces idle circles on my chest. “So much for behaving.”
I laugh into her hair. “Told you it was a bad idea.”
She presses a kiss over my heart. “Best bad idea I’ve ever had.”
I tighten my arm around her, feel her relax completely, and realize I’m in deeper than I thought, way deeper, and for once in my life, I don’t want out.