9. Chapter 9
Sunny
Beck lays me on his bed like I’m something precious, his eyes never leaving mine.
The mattress dips beneath our combined weight as he hovers above me, his breathing ragged.
Light streams through the windows, illuminating his face in ways our photos and brief video calls never captured.
I catch the flecks of gold in his gray eyes, admire the way his beard frames his mouth, and spot the tiny scar near his temple.
“You’re staring,” he whispers, one hand tracing my cheek.
“Can you blame me?” My fingers trace the powerful line of his jaw. “I’ve been imagining this for weeks.”
His laugh rumbles through his chest. “What exactly have you been imagining?”
Heat floods my face. “Do you want the PG version or the one that kept me up at night?”
“Definitely the second one.” His voice drops to a growl that sends shivers racing down my spine.
My confidence surges. “I’ve been thinking about your hands.”
“You’re obsessed with my hands.”
“Hush.” I take one of his broad palms and press it against my racing heart. “Wondering how they’d feel against my skin. If they’d be gentle or rough. How you would cup my breasts or stroke my skin? How your fingers would feel inside of me? Prepping me.”
He groans, then growls out, “And what’s the verdict?” He slides his hand lower, cupping my breast through the flannel shirt, thumb circling my nipple until it pebbles beneath the fabric.
“Jury’s still out.” My breath catches as his touch sends sparks shooting through me. “Need more evidence.”
He grins, with his rare smile that transforms his face and makes my heart stutter. “Happy to provide.”
His fingers work the buttons of the flannel, exposing my skin inch by tantalizing inch. The cool air makes me shiver, or maybe it’s the heat in his gaze as he takes me in.
“Beautiful,” he murmurs, reverence in his voice. “Even better than I remembered.”
My laugh emerges strangled as his hands explore my exposed skin. “Are you comparing me to my drunk boob selfie? Because that’s not fair competition.”
“That picture’s been driving me crazy for weeks.” His admission makes me bolder.
“Show me.” I reach for the hem of his shirt, tugging upward. “I want to see what’s been hiding under all that flannel.”
He pulls the shirt over his head in one fluid motion, and my mouth goes dry. His chest and shoulders are broad and solid, dusted with dark hair that narrows to a trail disappearing beneath his jeans. Scars mark his skin here and there—stories I want to learn, adventures written on his body.
“Like what you see?” The vulnerability beneath his teasing question makes my chest tighten.
My fingers trace an impressive scar along his ribs. “Very much.” I lean in to press my lips against the mark. “Though I have questions about this one.”
“Bear attack,” he says with a straight face.
“Liar.” I bite the skin gently, and his sharp intake of breath is intensely satisfying.
“Fine.” His hand tangles in my hair. “Fell off a ladder my first year here. Caught myself on a nail sticking out of the roof.”
“And you still stay in this death trap?” I tease, letting my fingers wander lower.
“It has its charms.” His voice catches as my hand brushes the waistband of his jeans. “Present company included.”
My boldness grows with every reaction I draw from him. “You know, I’ve been thinking about more than just your hands.”
“Tell me.” The command in his voice makes heat pool between my thighs.
“Your mouth.” I trace his lips with my thumb. “Wondering what it would feel like... everywhere.”
His eyes darken. “Everywhere?”
“Everywhere.” The word emerges breathless.
He captures my mouth in a kiss that leaves me dizzy, his tongue tangling with mine in a preview of what’s coming. Then his lips move lower, trailing fire down my neck, across my collarbone, until they close around my nipple.
The sensation tears a gasp from my throat. My back arches off the bed, pressing more firmly into his mouth as his tongue works magic against sensitive skin. His hand finds my other breast, fingers rolling and teasing until I’m writhing beneath him.
“Beck,” I moan, my hands fisting in his hair.
He looks up, his mouth still wrapped around my breast, and the sight nearly undoes me. “Problem?” he asks, releasing me with a pop that makes me shiver.
“The only problem is you’re wearing too many clothes.” My hands fumble with his belt buckle. “And you’re too far away.”
He chuckles, the sound vibrating against my skin. “Impatient, aren’t we?”
“I’ve been patient for six weeks,” I remind him, working the belt free. “My patience has officially expired.”
His hands catch mine, pinning them above my head. “Slow down, sunshine. We’ve got all day.”
“Easy for you to say.” I arch beneath him, seeking friction where I need it most. “You’re not the one being tortured.”
“No?” He presses his hips against mine, the hard length of him evident through his jeans. “What do you call this?”
“Foreplay?” I suggest innocently.
His bark of laughter fills the room. “You’re going to be the death of me.”
“But what a way to go.” I wink, and his expression softens into something that makes my heart flip.
He releases my hands to slide the flannel shirt from my shoulders, leaving me in nothing but the borrowed sweatpants riding low on my hips. His gaze travels over me like a physical caress.
“I can’t believe you’re here,” he murmurs, tracing the curve of my waist. “That this is real.”
The vulnerability in his voice catches me off guard, reminding me that this mountain man who seems so solid has his own insecurities. I reach up to cup his face.
“Very real.” I guide his hand to my racing heart. “Feel that? That’s what you do to me.”
Something shifts in his expression, intensity replacing playfulness. His mouth claims mine again as his hand slides lower, dipping beneath the waistband of the sweatpants. When his fingers find the wetness waiting there, we both groan.
“Christ, Sunny.” His forehead presses against mine. “You’re soaked.”
“Told you I’ve been thinking about your hands.” My hips rock against his touch, seeking more pressure, more friction.
His fingers explore with maddening patience, circling where I need him most without providing direct contact. I squirm beneath him, trying to guide him where I want.
“Beck,” I whimper as he continues his torturous exploration. “Please.”
“Please what?” The teasing glint in his eyes makes me want to kiss him and slap him simultaneously. “Use your words, sunshine. Tell me what you need.”
Two can play this game. I press my lips to his ear, whispering exactly what I want him to do in explicit detail. His fingers falter in their rhythm, and I know I’ve shocked him.
“Jesus,” he breathes. “Where did you learn to talk like that?”
“I contain multitudes.” I nip his earlobe. “Now, are you going to deliver, or do I need to take matters into my own hands?”
In answer, he slides one thick finger inside me, his thumb finding the bundle of nerves above. The dual sensation makes my back bow off the bed.
“Like this?” he asks, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through me.
“God, yes.” My hands clutch at his shoulders as he adds a second finger, stretching me deliciously. “Don’t stop.”
“Not planning on it.” His mouth finds my breast again as his fingers work their magic, building a pressure that coils tighter with each stroke. “Want to feel you come apart.”
His words push me closer to the edge. The intensity builds until I’m trembling, hovering on the precipice of something monumental. When his teeth graze my nipple at the same moment his fingers curl inside me, I shatter.
Waves of pleasure crash through me, my body clenching around his fingers as his name falls from my lips like a prayer. He works me through it, gentling his touch as I come down, trembling and breathless.
“That,” I pant when speech returns, “was worth waiting for.”
His smile is pure male satisfaction. “We’re just getting started.”
While I’m still floating in the afterglow, he strips off my borrowed sweatpants, leaving me bare beneath his gaze. I should feel exposed, vulnerable, but all I feel is desired as his eyes drink me in.
“My turn,” I announce, reaching for his belt again. This time he doesn’t stop me.
Together we work his jeans down his hips. When they join the growing pile of clothes on the floor, I’m treated to the sight of him in nothing but black boxer briefs that do little to hide his arousal.
“Well, hello there,” I quip, tracing the impressive outline through the fabric.
He laughs, the sound strained as my fingers explore. “Are you talking to me or...?”
“Definitely not you.” I hook my fingers in the waistband of his underwear. “I’m getting to know my new roommate.”
His laughter transforms into a groan as I free him from the confines of his boxers. He’s thick and hard, and the sight of him makes my mouth water.
“Like what you see?” he echoes my earlier question, vulnerability lurking beneath his confident exterior.
In answer, I wrap my hand around him, stroking slowly from base to tip. His hips buck involuntarily, and the power I feel in that moment is intoxicating.
“Very much,” I purr, relishing the way his eyes darken as I continue my exploration. “Though I have some questions about this, too.”
“Such as?” His voice is strained, his control hanging by a thread.
I lean forward until my lips brush his ear. “How it’s going to feel inside me.”
His control snaps. With a growl, he pushes me back against the pillows, settling between my thighs. The feel of him pressed against my center, nothing but heat and hardness, makes me whimper with anticipation.
“Protection,” he murmurs, reaching toward the nightstand.
“I’m covered,” I assure him, wrapping my legs around his waist to keep him close. “IUD. And I’m clean.”
“Me too.” His eyes search mine. “You’re sure about this?”
In answer, I lift my hips, sliding against him in invitation. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”
He drops to my mouth and steals my breath with a kiss as he positions himself at my entrance. When he pushes inside, the stretch and fullness draw a moan from deep in my chest.
“Fuck, Sunny.” His voice is reverent against my neck. “You feel amazing.”
He stills once he’s fully seated, giving me time to adjust to his size. The consideration makes my heart swell even as my body burns with need. I roll my hips experimentally, and the friction draws groans from us both.
“Move,” I urge, my hands sliding down to grasp his ass. “Please, Beck.”
He begins a slow, deliberate rhythm that has me seeing stars. Each thrust hits places inside me I didn’t know existed, building a pressure that threatens to consume me.
“That’s it,” he murmurs against my neck, his pace increasing as my responses grow more urgent. “Take all of me.”
His words are as arousing as his touch. I’ve never been with someone who talks during sex, who tells me exactly what he’s thinking, feeling, wanting. It’s intoxicating.
“Harder,” I gasp, meeting each thrust with equal fervor. “I won’t break.”
“No,” he agrees, adjusting the angle until I cry out. “You’re the strongest person I know.”
The declaration, delivered between increasingly desperate movements, catches me off guard. Tears prick at the corners of my eyes, overwhelmed by the physical sensations and the emotional impact of his words.
He notices immediately. “Did I hurt you?”
“No.” I pull him down for a kiss that’s more emotion than technique. “Just the opposite.”
Understanding dawns in his eyes. He cradles my face with one hand, his thrusts never faltering. “You’re incredible, you know that? Sending boob pics to strangers. Making me laugh. Turning my entire world upside down.”
A laugh bubbles up despite the intensity of the moment. “Only you would bring up my drunk texting during sex.”
“It’s my origin story.” His grin is wolfish as he picks up the pace, driving deeper. “How I met the woman of my dreams.”
Mixing his words and the delicious friction pushes me toward the edge again. My nails dig into his shoulders as the pressure builds, my body tightening around him.
“Beck,” I gasp, clinging to him as the world narrows to just this. His body moving inside mine, his hands holding me like I’m precious, and his eyes never leaving my face. “I’m close.”
“I know.” His rhythm falters as he fights for control. “I can feel you. Come for me, sunshine. Let me feel you fall apart.”
His hand slides between us, finding where we’re joined, and the additional sensation is all it takes. I shatter with his name on my lips, pleasure radiating from my core in waves that leave me trembling.
My release triggers his own. With a groan that sounds like it’s torn from his soul, he follows me over the edge, his body shuddering against mine as he finds his release.
For long moments, we remain tangled together, heartbeats gradually slowing, sweat cooling on our skin. He’s heavy above me, but I cling tighter when he tries to move away, not ready to lose the connection.
“Stay,” I whisper, and he settles back against me, careful to distribute his weight.
His fingers trace idle patterns on my skin as we catch our breath. The silence between us is comfortable, filled with unspoken understanding rather than awkwardness.
“So,” I say, unable to resist breaking the moment with humor. “Do I get a discount on rent now?”
He laughs, the sound vibrating through both of our bodies. “That depends. Is this a regular service you’re offering?”
“Oh, absolutely.” I press a kiss to his shoulder. “Daily, if required.”
“Careful what you promise.” He rolls us so we’re facing each other, his expression growing serious. “I might never let you leave.”
The declaration should terrify me. We’ve known each other six weeks, have met in person exactly once, and I’m already living in his home. It’s too fast, too intense, too everything.
But looking into his eyes, feeling the steady beat of his heart against my palm, none of that matters. What started as a wrong number has become the most right thing in my life.
“I might not want to.” The admission is easier than expected. “Leave, that is.”
His hand cups my face, thumb tracing my bottom lip. “Good. Because I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you, Sunny.”
My heart skips a beat, then races to catch up. “That’s convenient,” I whisper, blinking back unexpected tears. “Because I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you too.”
His smile is brighter than any I’ve seen from him, transforming his entire face into something so beautiful it makes my chest ache. “So what happens now?”
“Now?” I press closer, reveling in the way our bodies fit together. “Now we figure out the future. Day by day.”
“Together,” he adds, the word a promise.
“Together,” I agree, sealing it with a kiss. “Starting with round two.”
His laugh fills the cabin as I push him onto his back, straddling his hips with newfound confidence.
“Okay, mountain man, ready for more?”