Chapter 15
Noel
Isink deeper into the hot tub and let the heat curl around me like a lover’s arm.
Correction—a grumpy, wet, broody mountain man’s arm.
Because Nash Hollis is across from me.
In the flesh.
And there’s a lot of that flesh on display.
It’s been twenty minutes since the knock on the door that interrupted us again.
“Comfortable?” he asks, voice like whiskey-soaked gravel.
His arms stretch along the rim of the tub, biceps flexing under the water, beard damp from steam.
His eyes? That dark wildfire stare that’s made me stupid since day one.
“Mm,” I hum, teasing. “Would be more comfortable if someone wasn’t staring like he wants to drown me in this tub.”
“I don’t wanna drown you, snowflake,” he says, leaning in. “Just wanna see how loud you’d scream with my hands between your thighs.”
I choke on my own breath.
He smirks.
Cocky bastard.
“Do you always flirt like you’re giving a threat assessment?”
He shrugs. “I don’t flirt.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
“I promise, when I start flirting, you’ll know it.”
I swallow.
The tension between us is a tight wire, snapping with every second we sit here. Bare skin. Hot water. Night air. And him—towering, tatted, and terrifying in the best possible way.
It doesn’t help that I’m naked beneath the surface.
Neither of us said we’d go in without suits. But when I stepped out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel and caught him already stripping down outside, boots and flannel dropped in a trail on the porch, the only question I asked was where the bubbles were.
Now I regret everything.
Because I can’t stop imagining how big he is.
Or what he’d do if I got a little closer.
“You always this quiet when you’re thinking dirty thoughts?” he asks, low.
I arch a brow. “You wish I was thinking about you.”
“Oh, I don’t need to wish.” He dips a hand into the water, lets it drift lazily toward me. “I can see it in your eyes. You’ve been looking at my chest since I got in.”
“Please,” I snort. “I’ve been staring at the snow. Trying to enjoy the peaceful mountain solitude.”
“You been staring at the snow, huh?” His foot brushes mine under the water.
My breath catches.
That’s new.
“You sure you’re not staring at something else?” he says. “Something… bigger?”
I laugh—nervous, breathy, definitely too warm now. “You’re ridiculous.”
He smiles. Slow and sinful.
I shift away, only to find the edge of the tub behind me. Nowhere to run. “Let me guess,” I say. “This is where you tell me I’ve got nowhere to hide?”
“No.” He leans forward. Water laps between us. “This is where I tell you, you don’t want to.”
I don’t.
God help me, I don’t.
His hand reaches the edge of my knee underwater. Doesn’t move higher. Doesn’t have to.
I feel it everywhere.
“You came up here with your red lipstick and those little boots, swinging your sass like a weapon,” he murmurs. “You thought you’d walk in, redecorate my life, and leave without me noticing.”
“I offered to split the money.”
“Fuck the money.”
He slides closer.
I’m breathing hard now. Heart beating like a Christmas drum solo.
“What do you want then?” I whisper.
His hand glides up my thigh.
“You.”
A pause.
“I want you. Bent over my workbench. In my bed. On my lap. Right here. Wherever you’ll let me have you.”
He moves between my knees, hovering just shy of contact.
“But not until you beg,” he adds, voice low, rough. “Because I want to hear you say it. I want to feel it when you break for me.”
My head drops back.
The stars swirl above. Snowflakes land on my lips.
He kisses one away.
Then he stops.
Dead still.
Because I’m not moving. I’m trembling.
“Noel,” he says, voice softer now. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I breathe. “Too okay.”
He watches me for a beat longer. Then drifts back an inch, giving me space I didn’t ask for—but maybe needed.
His voice is lower, steadier now. “I’ll wait.”
“Why?” I ask.
“You’re not ready.”
I shake my head. “You’re wrong.”
“No,” he says. “Just not rushing something that feels this good. Not gonna fuck it up by going too fast.”
I blink. “You think this is good?”
He chuckles. “You don’t?”
I laugh, finally exhaling. “Okay. Yeah. Maybe.”
He drags a wet hand down his beard. “You’re trouble, Noel Hart.”
“You love it.”
“Goddamn right I do.”
We sit there for a minute. Steam curling around us. Bodies close. Breath still uneven. But grounded now. No rush. Just knowing.
“You ever gonna let me decorate that workbench?” I tease.
“Only if you do it naked.”
I roll my eyes. “Pervert.”
“You started it.”
I smile.
And then I do something insane.
I reach out and slide a hand along his chest. Slowly. Up to his shoulder. Let my fingers linger on his neck.
“Next time,” I whisper.
His jaw tightens.
“There will be a next time?” he says.
“Oh, definitely.”
“Tease.” He leans in. Kisses the corner of my mouth. Just once and then his eyes drag down my body—my legs, the curve of my hips, the swell of my breasts beneath the steamy water—and I catch him shifting, a hiss escaping as he adjusts himself.
He’s tense, on the edge. I see his cock twitch before he can restrain himself. In an instant, his hands close on my hips, his skin presses to mine—warm, insistent.
When his fingers slide down my thighs, I step out of them, heart racing. A whisper already slips past my lips: “Nash…”
He lifts me out of the water and plants my ass on the ledge, eyes gleaming.
“I can make you shake and quiver more than any other man ever could,” he growls.
His mouth finds me—wet, hungry. My hips jerk forward, craving every stroke of his tongue on my clit as he cups my ass and buries his face in my scent.
“Tasting you is like touching heaven, Noel, like a fucking drug on my tongue. I’m addicted to you,” he rasps, sucking my bud gently before flicking back to circle my slit. I moan, my thighs tightening around his head.
He alternates between circling my clit and plunging his tongue deep into my wetness, every sweep sending jolts of pleasure through me.
I clutch his hair, pressing his face harder, craving more.
My body convulses; I feel the first wave of my orgasm crash over his mouth.
I cry out, fingers digging into his shoulders as my legs tremble.
When I come down, panting, he straightens and whispers, “Nowhere near done with you yet.” He lifts me effortlessly and spins me around.
I gasp as he kneels, his hands parting my cheeks. My pulse throbs as his tongue darts to that tender spot between my cheeks, and he teases at my tight ring.
“You’re not going anywhere, Noel. Not until I have my fill of you,” he promises, smacking my ass with a playful sting. I arch back, breath catching again. He leans in, tongue flicking at my rosebud—soft, eager.
“Filthy girl, you like my tongue in your ass, don’t you?” he growls.
My answer is a soft moan. He slides a finger coated in my own wetness inside me, then presses that same finger past my entrance. I groan; my hips press down, begging for more of him.
“Cum, Noel. Cum all over my face,” he orders, his lips clamping on my clit as he fucks my ass with that finger. I can’t hold back—my next orgasm rips through me, body shuddering, voice breaking as my juices flood his mouth.
When I collapse, spent, he says softly, “That’s the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen.” He catches me, spins us both around, and presses his lips to mine in a fierce kiss that leaves me dizzy.
“I want you in my bed now,” he murmurs against my mouth. Without waiting, he scoops me up bridal-style and carries me across the back porch, down the hall, to his master bedroom.
He lets me fall onto the bed, and I giggle, my skin tingling from head to toe. I feel something new stirring in my chest—want, need, maybe even love.
He kneels between my legs again. “You on birth control, sweetheart?” he asks, voice soft now.
I nod, breathless. “Yes. For my cycle.”
He smiles as he leans down, kissing a trail from my stomach to the hollow of my throat, finally grazing my ear with the tip of his teeth.
“By the time I’m done, you won’t know where you end and I begin,” he whispers.
“I’m going to cum deep inside you. This sweet pussy will always be filled with me.
I want you to know I’m there every time you move.
I own it, baby—this dripping wet pussy and its delicious scent. It’s all mine.”
My heart stutters at his promise. “Nash…” I whisper back, voice trembling.
He hovers, cock nestled between my damp thighs. “Get used to my last name with yours, precious. I own you now. You good with that?”
I slide a hand around his neck and pull him down for a kiss. “I’m yours, Nash.” I mean every word.
I cry out when the tip of his thick cock nudges at my entrance again, my breaths coming in labored gasps as I clutch his shoulders, pressing harder into his lips as we kiss and he slides in slowly.
And slides.
And slides.
My muscles burn, pain pinching at my insides, until he finally pushes past that last barrier between us.
And then I’m his.
And then he owns me.
I hum as his thrusts speed up, his cock bottoming out inside me, his hands trailing over my skin—kneading, gripping, claiming my flesh until I’m certain I’ll wake bruised in the morning.
His thumbs dig into my hips as he fucks me fiercely, his body hitting every ragged nerve until another orgasm teases just out of reach.
“Oh God,” I husk, losing my mind under his touch. Being connected to Nash Hollis feels like an out-of-body experience. My head swims with raw lust and desperate need, my muscles strung tight with wave after wave of pleasure. Nash is all I can think, all I can feel, smell, touch. He’s everywhere.
“You make me so fucking hard, Noel,” Nash growls. His teeth graze between my breasts, his tongue flicking up to taste my peak. Fire scorches through my veins, consuming every bit of oxygen, pushing me closer to the edge.
“I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” I manage in a breathless ramble.
“I’ve been desperate for your taste on my tongue since I first touched you.
The way you look up at me, Noel, fucking undoes me.
” Nash thrusts in and out of me—sometimes deep and filling, other times short and shallow—before he speeds up and drives me over the edge.
I wrap my arms around his torso, palms sliding along his sweat-slick skin, down his hips and bottom.
I squeeze as he picks up pace, pounding me with everything he’s got.
“God, oh, Nash,” I beg. “More, harder. God, more.”
He pulls me flush against him and holds me tight.
Our thighs, hips, torsos aligned. One hand snakes around the back of my neck and pulls me toward his lips.
We crash together in a fierce kiss. His tongue twists with mine in desperation, and a low moan rumbles from his throat. I grip his head and match his ferocity.
His hips circle, a hand slipping between us to trace a path across my clit with those work-roughened fingers that burn like sandpaper on my skin.
“I want to hear you, pretty girl. Cum on my thick cock and let me hear it.”
Those words spark the final blaze of my orgasm. It floods me, short-circuiting my insides and loosening every muscle with each pounding heartbeat. We become a tangle of reckless sensation, violent passion, frantic connection cresting in a tidal wave that drags me under.
“Jesus, you’re like a tight fist squeezing my cock.” He slips his tongue past my lips, swallowing my ragged moans. His hands clamp on my hips as he steadies himself, head thrown back, rasped grunts escaping him. “God, yes, Noel.”
I gulp for air, driven by the sound of our bodies slapping together and the heady scent of sex, cum, him fueling my arousal.
“I fucking love being inside you.” His teeth trail along my ear. I smile, body still trembling. He runs his fingers through my wild hair and nuzzles my neck, breathing deep. “You smell like me.”
I sigh, roll against him, wrapping my arms around his body. I open my eyes and find him watching me, a thoughtful smile curving his lips.
“What?” I whisper.
“You.” He grins.
“What about me?”
He traces my ear with his thumb. “Watching you cum is fucking beautiful.” I feel heat rise in my cheeks. “And seeing you blush…” His fingertips drift across my collarbone. “Is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. I’ll never get enough of you.”
He slides a hand between my thighs, massaging me tenderly. When he pulls away, his eyes narrow for a moment—and I spot the blood on his fingertips.
“Jesus, Noel. You were a virgin?” He runs a hand through his rumpled hair.
I go still, shame flushing me. I want to flee, run out of this room, out of his cabin, never look back.
But can I?
“Noel.” He hauls me into his lap, our chests heaving, limbs tangled until I can’t tell where I end and he begins. A deep peace settles in my bones. I trust him—more than I’ve ever trusted any man but my daddy. Until now. Until Nash.
“If I’d known you were a virgin, I would’ve been different…more…” He searches for the right words, regret clouding his eyes. I feel tears prick mine.
“I don’t want you any different, Nash. That’s why I didn’t tell you. I didn’t want tenderness. I wanted to feel you. I wanted to know I turn you on so much you nearly lose your mind,” I whisper, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead.
He exhales, nudging his nose along my neck, caring for me. “I didn’t want to take it from you like that.”
“You didn’t, Nash.” I cup his face, forcing his gaze to meet mine. “I gave it to you.”
His eyes glisten before he wraps me in his arms, lips claiming mine in slow, decadent strokes that feel like soul-fucking.
Nash Hollis owns me.