Chapter 3
ELSA
I’d been kissed before. Plenty of times, actually. Preston had kissed me on our first date, our second, every date after that. Polite kisses. Respectful kisses. The kind that felt more like a handshake.
This was nothing like that.
Briggs kissed me like he was starving and I was the only thing that could save him.
His hand came up to cup the back of my neck, tilting my head so he could deepen the angle, and I melted into him without a second thought.
My back pressed against the cold metal of my car door, but I barely felt it.
All I could feel was him—the heat of his body, the roughness of his beard against my chin, the way his other hand gripped my hip like he was afraid I might disappear.
When he finally pulled back, we were both breathing hard.
“I’ve been wanting to do that for weeks,” he said, his voice rough.
I couldn’t find words. My brain had short-circuited somewhere between his lips touching mine and his tongue sliding against my own. All I could do was stare up at him, my fingers clutching the front of his jacket like it was the only thing keeping me upright.
“Come home with me.”
His words hit me like a splash of cold water. Not because I didn’t want to—god, I wanted to—but because of what it would mean. What I’d have to tell him.
“Briggs…”
“You don’t have to,” he said quickly, reading the hesitation on my face. “I’m not expecting anything. I just…” He let out a breath, his forehead dropping to rest against mine. “I don’t want to say goodnight yet. And I don’t love the idea of you going home alone when that guy might still be around.”
“It’s not that.” I bit my lip, trying to figure out how to say what I needed to say. “There’s something you should know first.”
He pulled back just enough to look at me, his brow furrowed. “Okay.”
“I’ve never…” The words stuck in my throat. This was ridiculous. I was twenty-three years old, and I couldn’t even say it out loud. “I haven’t done this before. Any of it.”
Understanding dawned slowly across his features. “You mean you’re…”
“A virgin. Yes.” I forced myself to hold his gaze even though my cheeks were burning. “I dated Preston for eight months, and I never wanted to. I’ve never wanted to with anyone. And I know that probably sounds crazy, but—”
He kissed me again. Softer this time, but no less intense. When he pulled back, there was something almost reverent in his expression.
“It doesn’t sound crazy,” he said. “It sounds like you were waiting for something that mattered.”
My heart squeezed. “And you don’t…that doesn’t change anything?”
“Sweetheart.” The endearment rolled off his tongue like he’d been calling me that for years. “The only thing it changes is how careful I’m going to be with you.”
I should have been nervous. I should have been second-guessing every decision that had led me to this moment—standing in a dark parking lot with a man I’d really only just met, contemplating going home with him.
But I wasn’t nervous.
I knew exactly what I wanted.
“Okay,” I said.
“Okay?”
“Take me home with you.”
Something flickered in his eyes. Something dark and hungry that made my stomach flip. But he didn’t kiss me again. Instead, he took my hand and led me across the parking lot to a black pickup truck that looked about as big and sturdy as he was.
He opened the passenger door and helped me up into the cab, his hand warm on the small of my back. The interior smelled like smoke and pine. I breathed it in as he rounded the front of the truck and climbed in beside me.
“You’re sure?” he asked, one hand on the key in the ignition. “Because we can just sit here and talk if you want. Or I can drive you back to your car. Whatever you need.”
“I’m sure.”
He held my gaze for a long moment, searching for any sign of doubt. Whatever he found must have satisfied him, because he nodded once and started the engine.
We pulled out of the parking lot and onto the dark mountain road. The headlights cut through the darkness, illuminating patches of snow still clinging to the shoulders. Inside the cab, the heat kicked on, wrapping around us like a blanket.
I watched his profile as he drove. The strong line of his jaw. The way his hands gripped the steering wheel. He was focused on the road, giving me space, not pushing.
I didn’t want space.
Before I could talk myself out of it, I reached across the center console and rested my hand on his thigh. He went very still.
“Elsa.” His voice came out strained.
“Keep your eyes on the road,” I said, surprising myself with how steady I sounded. My hand slid higher, feeling the muscle tense beneath his jeans. “I just want to touch you.”
His knuckles went white on the steering wheel. “You’re going to make me wreck this truck.”
“Then maybe you should drive faster.”
He let out a sound that was half laugh, half groan. The truck accelerated, and I smiled to myself in the darkness, my hand still resting on his thigh, feeling the heat of him through the denim.
I had no idea what I was doing. I’d never been bold like this—never been the one to make the first move. But something about Briggs made me feel safe enough to try. Safe enough to want.
My fingers traced higher, and his breath caught audibly.
“How much farther?” I asked.
“Not far enough.” He caught my wandering hand with his, bringing it to his lips and pressing a kiss to my palm. “And too far. Both at the same time.”
I understood exactly what he meant.
My fingers trembled only a little as I slid them higher, tracing the hard ridge beneath his jeans. The denim was rough against my palm, but underneath it, he was already straining, thick and hot even through the layers. My heart hammered so hard, I was sure he could hear it.
I found the button of his jeans, worked it open with clumsy, eager fingers, then tugged the zipper down. The sound seemed obscenely loud in the quiet cab. Briggs sucked in a sharp breath, his hips lifting just enough to give me room.
When my hand slipped beneath the waistband of his boxers, skin finally met skin, and I froze for a heartbeat. He was…so much more than I’d imagined.
Hot. Thick. Velvet-smooth over iron. The head was slick already, and when I brushed my thumb over it experimentally, a low, guttural sound tore from his throat. I felt him pulse against my palm, alive and hungry, and something wild and liquid unfurled low in my belly.
I’d never touched a man like this before. Never felt the weight of him, the way he jumped under the lightest graze of my fingertips. It was fascinating. Intimidating. Intoxicating.
“Fuck, Elsa,” Briggs rasped. The truck swerved slightly. “I can’t—Jesus, I can’t drive with your hand on me like that.”
He yanked the wheel hard to the right. Gravel crunched under the tires as he pulled off onto a narrow turnout, the truck shuddering to a stop. The engine kept running, headlights slicing through the dark pines, but the world outside felt miles away.
Before I could second-guess myself, I unbuckled my seatbelt. Briggs was already shoving his seat back as far as it would go. I climbed over the console, awkward and desperate, until I was half in his lap.
He helped me tug his jeans and boxers down to mid-thigh. When his cock sprang free—thick and flushed and curving slightly upward—my eyes widened.
He was huge. Not porn-star ridiculous, but big enough that a flicker of nerves danced through the heat pooling between my legs. Big enough that I understood, suddenly, why some women talked about this like it was a challenge.
Briggs watched my face, his chest rising and falling hard. “Still sure?” he asked, his voice gravel-rough.
I nodded, swallowing. “Very.”
My hands went to his shoulders for balance as I leaned down. His palm settled between my shoulder blades, warm and steady through my coat. I wrapped my fingers around the base of him and took the head into my mouth.
He cursed under his breath, hips jerking once before he locked them down.
The taste of him hit my tongue—salt and heat and something uniquely male.
I swirled experimentally, learning the shape of him with my lips, the way the ridge beneath the head felt against my tongue.
When I sucked lightly, his hand tightened on my back.
“Fuck—sweetheart, you’re killing me.” His fingers dug into the fabric of my coat, frustrated. “This damn coat,” he growled. “Take it off. Take everything off. Jeans, panties—come here.”
I pulled back just long enough to obey. The coat hit the floorboard. Boots kicked off. Jeans and underwear peeled off in one frantic motion. The cold air kissed my bare skin, but I was burning too hot to care.
He helped me climb over to his seat, where I straddled him, knees braced on either side of his hips. I closed my eyes as the thick head of his cock nudged against my slick folds. I rocked once, instinctively, and we both moaned at the contact.
“I’m on birth control,” I whispered against his mouth. “And I’m clean. I just… I want you inside me.”
Briggs groaned, hands clamping my hips. But instead of lifting me onto him, he shoved my T-shirt up under my arms, dragging my bra with it. Cool air hit my breasts, and my nipples tightened instantly.
Then his mouth was there—hot, wet, perfect. He licked one stiff peak in a slow, deliberate circle, then sucked it deep. Pleasure arrowed straight to my core. I arched, fingers tangling in his hair.
He switched to the other nipple, giving it the same ruthless attention while his free hand slid between us. When his thumb found my clit—swollen, slippery, aching—I cried out.
He circled slowly at first, then faster, firmer, matching the rhythm of his tongue on my breast. Heat coiled tighter and tighter inside me—a pleasure like nothing I’d ever experienced before.
My thighs shook. My breath came in sharp, desperate pants. “Briggs—oh god—”
“Let go,” he murmured against my nipple. “I’ve got you.”
The coil snapped. Pleasure crashed through me in white-hot waves, my whole body seizing as I came on his hand, shuddering and gasping his name. He kept the pressure steady, drawing it out until I was trembling, boneless, clinging to his shoulders.
When the aftershocks finally eased, I opened my eyes and looked down at him. His eyelids were heavy, jaw clenched, expression so raw that it stole what little breath I had left. I smiled—slow, shaky, stupidly happy.
Then I reached between us, wrapped my hand around his aching cock, and guided the head to my entrance.
I felt him throb against me, felt the slick heat of us kiss, and whispered, “Now.”