Chapter 8 #2
“Slade, please.” I dug my fingers into his shoulders. “Stop teasing me.”
The mattress groaned as he sat back on his knees and rolled a condom I didn’t even know he had over his cock.
My nipples hardened as I waited, wet and eager to feel him inside me.
Then he leaned forward and notched his dick at my entrance, his forearm braced beside my head, his other hand cupping my face.
“Is this what you’re waiting for, Morgan?”
“Yes. Yes, please.”
When he pushed inside me, slow and steady, I cried out at the intensity. He filled me completely. My body stretched and yielded to his like it had been made for this moment.
He stilled immediately, his forehead pressed to mine, his breath ragged. “Okay?”
“Yes.” I wrapped my legs around him, pulling him deeper, needing all of him. “Don't stop.”
He didn't. He moved with the same steady competence he brought to everything else, but there was nothing controlled about the way his breath hitched or the way his hands gripped my hips like he was afraid I'd disappear.
He read my body like he'd studied it, responding to every sound and shift, adjusting his angle until I was clutching at him, gasping his name.
“God, woman,” he groaned against my neck. “You feel so fucking good.”
The tension coiled tighter in my core with every thrust, building until I couldn't think about anything except the feeling of him, the weight of him, the way he whispered my name like it mattered more than anything else in the world.
When I came apart beneath him, it crashed through me in waves that left me shaking, my body arching into his as pleasure sparked through every nerve.
He followed moments later with a broken sound that was half my name, half something that didn’t sound human, his body shuddering against mine as he buried his face in my neck.
We stayed like that for a long moment, both of us breathing hard, our hearts pounding in sync. His weight pinned me to the mattress, and I didn't want him to move. Didn't want this moment to end and reality to come crashing back in.
Finally, he shifted just enough to look at me, his hand brushing damp hair from my forehead. His eyes held something raw and unsure, like he didn't know what should come next any more than I did.
“That was—” he started.
“I know.”
He pressed a kiss to my temple, gentle in a way that made my throat tight. Then he rolled to his side, pulling me against him on the narrow cot, our legs tangled together as the storm raged on outside.
Neither of us spoke. There would be time for words later.
Plenty of time for questions and consequences and whatever this meant for everything waiting on the other side of the storm.
For now, I let myself have sink into the warmth of his body, listen to the steady rhythm of his breathing, and appreciate the feeling that for once, I wasn't fighting alone.
As our heart rates returned to normal, we lay there tangled together on the too-small cot, the fire crackling in the background. My head rested on his chest, rising and falling with his breaths. His arm wrapped around me, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on my shoulder.
“That wasn't supposed to happen,” he admitted.
I propped myself up on my elbow to get a better look at him. “You regret it already?”
“No.” His hand came up to cup my face. “That's the problem.”
“Why is that a problem?”
He sighed. “Because this makes everything more complicated.”
“Maybe,” I said. “Or maybe it makes things clearer.”
His thumb brushed across my cheekbone. “How do you figure?”
“Because now we know,” I said. “We know this is real. Whatever happens next, we can't pretend it isn't.”
He pulled me back down against his chest and tightened his arms around me. “I'm scared I'm going to screw this up.”
The vulnerability in his voice nearly undid me. “You won't.”
“You don't know that.”
“I know you're not the person this town says you are,” I said. “I know you care more than you let on. And I know you're trying.”
“Can I tell you something?”
I tensed, not sure where the conversation was headed. “What?”
He squinted and wrinkled his nose. “When I said I’d been in this cabin before, just not with you, I meant I’d been here alone. Not with someone else.”
I bit down on my lip to keep myself from smiling. “So you don’t make a habit of getting snowed in here with women and only one bed?”
His laugh landed low and unguarded. “Only you, Morgan.”
“Thanks for telling me.” I snuggled into him even more.
He was quiet for a long moment. Then his voice came out barely above a whisper. “That marker.”
“What about it?”
“I should've told you sooner.” His voice was strained. “I knew it was wrong the moment I saw it. Knew it was going to cause problems. But I…”
“You what?”
“I froze,” he mumbled. “Because if that marker proves the boundary's wrong, it means my family's been wrong. Maybe for generations. And I didn't know how to handle that.”
I lifted my head to look at him again. His expression was raw and unguarded in a way I'd never seen before.
“You're telling me now,” I said.
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
He met my gaze. “Because you deserve the truth. And because I'm tired of being afraid of it.”
I kissed him again, slower this time. “We'll figure it out.”
“Together?” he asked.
“Together,” I confirmed.
He pulled me close again, and I drifted in and out of sleep while the storm raged outside and the fire slowly burned down.
I didn't know what tomorrow would bring.
Didn't know how the town would react or what the marker would ultimately reveal.
But I knew that whatever came next, I wanted to face it with Slade Kincaid by my side.
And for the first time since I'd arrived in Mustang Mountain, that didn't scare me. It felt right.
We must have dozed off because when I opened my eyes again, the light had changed. The storm had quieted to the steady whisper of snow against the windows. Slade was still underneath me, his breathing deep and even.
I shifted to get more comfortable, and his arms tightened around me instinctively.
“Don't go,” he murmured, half-asleep.
“I'm not,” I whispered.
He pressed a kiss to the top of my head. “Good.”
I smiled against his chest. We'd crossed a line today, maybe even several. And yes, it complicated everything like the rodeo, the marker, and the town's expectations. But buried in his arms in the quiet aftermath, I couldn't bring myself to regret it.
Outside, the mountain had made its decision. Inside, we'd made ours. Now we had to figure out what came next.