“Say it.”
“Yesss,”she hisses.
I groan, tugging harder on her hair, devouring the moan that slips free with another kiss.
“And what about my cock, baby?” I breathe against her lips. “Gonna let me make you come on that, too?”
“God, yes,” she chokes out, voice shaking. “I want all of it. I want you.”
I flip us before she can blink—one hard roll of my hips and I’m on top of her, thighs bracketing her sides, chest rising and falling like I’ve run miles.
Her breath whooshes out in a soft gasp, eyes wide, lips red and kiss-bruised. I trail my finger over the pink marks my beard left across her jaw and throat, shuddering in approval.
Goddamn, she’s beautiful.
Still fully clothed in my old Ranger sweatshirt and leggings, hair messy and cheeks flushed, she’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.
But I want more.
My hands find the hem of the sweatshirt and I drag it slowly up her body, knuckles grazing her sides, watching goosebumps bloom in my wake. She shivers, and I know it has nothing to do with the cold, because I feel it too.
It’s this.
It’s us.
She lifts her arms and lets me peel it over her head, baring her completely. No bra or undershirt. Just soft, freckled skin and two palm sized breasts tipped in tight, flushed little nipples already begging for my attention.
My cock throbs to the point of pain.
“No bra?” I murmur, pinching a rose-tipped bud. She moans, but doesn’t respond, so I twist it the way she likes. “Answer me or I’ll stop, baby.”
Her back arches, head whipping back and forth. “Hate bras.”
Me. Fuckin’. Too.
Shifting, I quickly work her boots and socks off then grip the waist of her leggings and panties, sliding them both down her legs in a slow, maddening tug.
When she’s fully naked, I sit back on my heels, boots digging into the blankets as I take her in.
She’s spread out like a feast—wild red hair fanned across a pillow, breasts heaving with every rough breath. Her skin is covered in goosebumps, but her thighs are parted, showing me everything and hiding nothing.
But it’s the way she stares up at me, body lax and trusting, that flays me wide open for.
I’m one lucky bastard.
“Christ, Georgia,” I whisper, hands gripping her calves. “You’re incredible.”
She blushes hard, biting her lip. “You saw me naked five days ago.”
“Doesn’t mean I’m not still obsessed.”
“I wanna see you too.” She yanks at my shirt. “Please, Kade.”
My swallow is rough. The sound of her begging already nearly snaps my patience, but I’ll be damned if I rush this. I strip down without finesse yet the whimpers that slip free from her throat make it sound like I’m putting on a damn show, and fuck if that doesn’t inflate my ego.
And then I’m back on my knees, hand wrapped around my leaking cock, letting her look her fill.
“You…” she breathes, brows furrowed. Her eyes trail over my body, pausing on the scars and tattoos, my chest and abs, before settling on my cock. “You’re perfect.” She flicks her gaze to mine, and fuck if she doesn’t look seconds from pouncing. “So perfect.”
