Sixteen.
Shea
“Your family is…” I trail off, searching for the right words to tell him how welcoming and kind his family is. “I don’t even have a word for it.”
“Loud,” Rhett offers, his eyes on the dark road ahead, hands on the wheel.
“Wonderful,” I say quietly. “They’re wonderful.”
He hums, but there’s something turning behind his eyes. His thumb taps the wheel.
“You okay?”
“Long day.” He reaches over and takes my hand across the console, lacing our fingers like it’s nothing. “Just tired.”
I let it go. Tyler snores in the backseat, the leftovers are warm in my lap, and I’ve decided I’m not letting this man drive home without collecting his birthday present—the one I definitely planned in advance and did not just think of ninety seconds ago.
He pulls into the resort lot and parks.
“So.” I turn in my seat, biting my lip. “About your gift.”
His brow lifts. “I thought we agreed—”
“You agreed. I never said anything.” I lean across the console, close enough to feel the warmth coming off him, and drop my voice. “Walk me up? Tyler sleeps like the dead, and I’ve got something for you that doesn’t fit in a bag.”
Rhett goes very still. Those latte eyes drop to my mouth, then back up, and the ‘tired’ gone clean out of them. “Darlin’,” he says, low and rough, “you should’ve led with that.”
I bite my lip, then promptly nudge Tyler awake in the back. “We’re home, Ty. Grab your cake before you crush it.”
He surfaces slow, hair smashed flat on one side. “I’m awake,” he mumbles, gathering his leftovers and sliding out of the truck.
Rhett grabs the rest of the food before I can, and the three of us cross the lot into the warm gold of the lobby, past the night clerk, and up the elevator. I’m very aware of the man standing beside me the whole ride. The heat of him. The way his hand intertwines with mine without a second thought.
Upstairs, Tyler toes off his shoes at the door and heads straight for his room. But stops, turns, looks at Rhett with the blurry gaze of a kid three-quarters asleep. “Thanks for the invite,” he says. “Your family’s actually really cool.” A pause, and then, quieter, “Happy birthday, man.”
Rhett grins. “Thanks, bud. That means a lot.”
“Yup.” And he’s gone, his door clicking shut behind him.
Then it’s just us and the quiet of the suite. “So.” I set the bags on the counter and turn to find Rhett watching me from the entryway, hands in his pockets. “Grand tour?”
“Sure.”
“Right, well.” I sweep an arm, playing hostess, my pulse already picking up. “Kitchen you can see. Living room, obviously. That’s Tyler’s dungeon over there.” I nod toward his door. “Balcony is through there, best view of the slopes, though it’s freezing this time of night.”
“Shea.” Rhett hasn’t moved from the entryway. There’s a smile pulling at his mouth, slow and knowing. “You going to show me the rest, or you gonna keep pointing at rooms I don’t care about?”
Heat floods my face. Busted.
I take a breath. Roll my shoulders back. Remember that I am a grown woman who has dressed A-list celebrities and does not, as a rule, get flustered by a man in flannel.
I hold out my hand. He crosses the room, taking my hand, and I lead him to my room at the end.
I pull him inside and close the door behind us with a soft click.
I turn to face him, my back against the cool wood, and for a second, I just look at him—standing in the middle of my room like he’s not sure he’s allowed to be here.
All that quiet power, hard muscles and broad shoulders filling up the space, hands loose at his sides, waiting for me to make the next move. God, that does something to me. A man his size, and he waits.
“So, here’s the thing,” I say, pushing off the door. “You wouldn’t let me buy you a present.”
“Shea.”
“But I’m going to give you one anyway.” I close the distance and flatten my palms against his chest, feeling his heart kick under my palms. “And you’re going to let me.”
His grin is devilishly slow as one brow lifts, amused. “That so.”
“Mhm.” I fist the hem of his shirt and push it up.
He lets me tug it over his head and drop to the floor.
Swoon. I’ve felt this chest under my hands twice now and it still knocks the breath out of me—all that hard, worked muscle, the trail of hair down his stomach.
I drag my nails down his abdomen and he shivers.
“Rule one. You don’t get to do anything. Tonight’s about you.”
“Baby.” His voice drops and my insides do somersaults. “That’s gonna be real hard.”
“You’ll manage.” I press a kiss to the center of his chest, then lower. “Sit down, birthday boy.”
He sits on the edge of my bed, and I follow him down onto my knees, and the look on his face… The way his jaw goes tight, his hands flexing against his thighs like he’s fighting not to reach for me has heat pooling low in my belly before I’ve even touched him.
I work his belt open, the button, the zipper, taking my time the way he took with me. He lifts his hips when I tug his jeans and briefs down. His cock springs free, thick and hard, leaking at the tip, and my mouth waters.
He groans. “Shea…”
“Shh.” I wrap my hand around the base of him. He’s hot and heavy in my palm. I stroke him once, root to tip, watching a bead of precum well up. “Let me give you your gift.”
I lick the head of his cock clean, and the sound that punches out of his chest is filthy.
His hand comes up to my hair, not guiding, just holding, threading through my curls like an anchor.
I swirl my tongue over the swollen head, tasting the salt of him, and then I take him into my mouth as much as I can.
I hollow my cheeks, sinking down until he nudges the back of my throat.
“Fuck.” His head drops back, the tendons in his neck going taut. “Fuck, baby, your mouth.”
I moan around him and his length twitches against my tongue.
I set a rhythm, slow and deep, my hand working what my mouth can’t reach.
And I get the pleasure of feeling him come apart above me—this steady, unshakable man, undone on the edge of my bed, all because I decided to undo him. The power of it is intoxicating.
I’ve never wanted anything the way I want to wreck Rhett Montgomery.
His grip tightens in my hair. “Shea, baby, you gotta—ugh, if you keep goin’ I’m gonna—” He’s breathing hard, hips straining not to thrust up into my mouth. “Come here. Please, baby.”
I release him with a wet pop and he hauls me up off the floor before I’ve fully found my feet, dragging me onto his lap. His mouth finds mine, hungry, tasting himself on my tongue.
“Off,” he grunts, tugging at my sweater. “All of it. Now.”
“That’s very demanding for a man who isn’t supposed to be doing anything,” I tease, but I’m already pulling it over my head, shimmying out of my jeans. His hands are everywhere the second there’s bare skin to touch—my waist, my ribs, cupping my breasts, thumbs dragging over my nipples until I gasp.
“Rule one, huh,” he murmurs against my throat, echoing me, a smile in it. “Get up here and take what you want, then.”
I don’t need telling twice.
I straddle him, my knees sinking into the mattress on either side of his hips.
I reach between us to line him up. The blunt head of him drags through my wet center and we both shudder.
I sink down—slow, inch by delicious inch.
My breath catches as he stretches me open, filling me so completely my head falls forward against his.
“Oh.” I can barely get the sound out. “Oh, Rhett…”
“I know, baby.” His hands grip my hips, steadying me. His jaw clenched tight. “Take your time. Fuck, you feel so fuckin’ good.”
When I’ve taken all of him, seated flush against him and full to the point of aching, I start to move.
Slow rolls of my hips at first, savoring the drag of him inside me.
His hands slide to my ass to help guide the rhythm.
I brace my palms on his shoulders and ride him, chasing the angle that lights me up.
“That’s it,” he breathes, watching my face. “Just like that. Fuck, baby, look at you.”
I pick up the pace. His hips start to meet mine, thrusting up as I come down, and the new depth of it has me crying out. My nails dig into his shoulders as the tension coils tight and hot low in my belly, faster than I expect, my rhythm going ragged as I climb—
“Rhett, I’m close.”
And that’s when he decides he’s done letting me lead. He wraps an arm around my back and flips us. I land on the mattress with a squeak that dissolves into laughter, breathless and startled, Rhett looms over me with a grin that’s pure trouble.
“My turn,” he says.
I gape at him. “I said—”
“And you did.” He kisses down my sternum, my stomach, settling between my thighs and hooking my knees over his broad shoulders. “Best gift I’ve ever gotten. Now, let me thank you for it, sweetheart.”
A moment later, his mouth is on me and I forget every clever thing I was going to say.
He devours me. Flat, firm strokes of his tongue through my folds, circling my clit, and when he seals his lips around it and sucks, my back arches clean off the bed.
He locks an arm over my hips to hold me down, pinning me right where he wants me.
He works me to the point I’m crying out, falling apart as the orgasm I was chasing crashes over me hard and fast, my thighs shaking on either side of his head.
He stays with me until I’m gasping and boneless against the sheets.
When he finally kisses his way back up my body, I pull him down to me, tasting myself on his mouth. I feel him hard and hot against my thigh.
“I don’t—” I start, breathless, my mind catching up to the heat of the moment. Raw. “We don’t—I didn’t bring anything.”
“I’m clean,” he says against my lips, no hesitation. His hand smooths up my side, his eyes finding mine. “I haven’t been with anyone else in a long while.” He brushes a curl off my face. “But if you want me to stop, or run out and find somethin’, I will. Just say the word.”
“I’m clean, too. And on the pill.” My hands slide up his back, pulling him closer. “I trust you.”
“Best fuckin’ birthday ever,” he groans low, kissing me deep.
Then he flips me again. I gasp as he guides me onto my hands and knees, his palms sliding down my spine, over the curve of my ass.
He lines up behind me, dragging the head of his cock through my slick heat once, twice, and then he pushes in—all of him, in one long, slow stroke—and the angle has me biting the pillow.
“Yes, baby.” His hands grip my hips, holding me flush against him, seated so deep I can barely breathe. “This what you wanted?”
“Yes.” I push back against him. “Please, Rhett, fuck me.”
And he does just that. He sets a rhythm that’s hard and relentless, one hand fisted in my curls, the other locked on my hip, pulling me back to meet every thrust. The room fills with the sound of skin on skin, low groans, helpless moans muffled into the bedding.
He drives into me at an angle that drags against something deep inside me and that delicious tension builds all over again, tighter and higher than before.
“You’re gonna come again,” he growls, reaching around to circle my clit with his thumb. “I can feel you. Come on, beautiful. One more. Give it to me.”
The dirty demand, the drag of his cock, his thumb on my clit—it’s too much. And exactly enough. I shatter, moaning his name as I clench around him.
“That’s my girl—fuck!” His rhythm falters, his hips slamming into me once, twice, and then he pulls out with a ragged hiss. I feel him spill hot across my lower back as he comes, his hips nestled against my ass.
For a moment neither of us moves. Only the sound of our heavy breathing to be heard. “Don’t move,” he murmurs.
I couldn’t if I wanted to.
I hear him pad to the bathroom, the water running, and then he’s back, warm cloth in hand, cleaning me up with careful strokes down my back, unhurried. When he’s done, he tosses the cloth aside and eases me under the sheets, gathering me against his chest, my face resting over his thundering heart.
“Best. Birthday. Ever,” he says quietly, planting a tender kiss to the top of my head.
I laugh, tired and thoroughly wrecked and stupidly happy. “It was supposed to be your gift and you did all the work.”
“Mm. Guess you’ll owe me.” His hand splays over my ass, squeezing. “I’ll think of something.”
A giggle spills out of me. Fine by me, I think to myself.
He settles beside me, his breath evening out, and I lie here in the dark, wide awake despite the exhaustion pulling at me, listening to the quiet.
I came here with a plan. A house, a pilot, a plane ticket home. A clean in-and-out. I didn’t plan on any of this. I didn’t plan on wanting…someone.
The thought should scare me. A month ago, it would have. But Rhett’s arm tightens around me even in sleep, pulling me closer, and I let myself sink into it. Into him. Into the terrifying, wonderful pull of a place that’s starting to feel less like a project and more like…a possibility.
Just for tonight, I tell myself, the way I always do. But even as I think it, I know I’m lying.
Montana’s got its hooks in me. And I’m not sure I want them out.