“You can have mine.” Marshall plopped his onto Bragg’s tray. “We need to go.” He and Amity stood up.
“We’ll catch up later,” Amity tossed out over her shoulder as he hustled her from the mess hall. “They probably think we’re rude,” she said. “We were, kind of.”
“Would you rather they think we’re horny?” He slipped his arm through hers.
Her cute, feminine giggle shot straight to his hard-on. He’d sat through dinner with a throbbing woody. She hugged his arm, and the swell of her breast sent another jolt through him.
As soon as they entered the cabin, coats went flying. “I thought they were never going to shut up,” he said. “Come here.”
His mouth fused to hers in a needful kiss. He’d fantasized about this moment all day.
She moaned, wrapping her arms around his neck, clinging to him in the most satisfying way. They kissed, long and deep with tongues and lips. He held her tight against him, letting her feelhis erection, hot and hard for her. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d desired a woman this much—maybe never.
My wife. My wife.His possessiveness surprised him. The marriage that had seemed like a prison sentence had become a joy.
He’d gotten a good idea of how she was built from their nightly, torturous cuddling sessions, but he hadn’t been free to explore. Now, he roamed his hands over her body, her shoulders, back, and buttocks. He slipped his hands around to the front, moving under her shirt to cup her bare breasts. Her nipples were hard beads against his palms.
She tugged at his shirt, and he hastily undid the fastenings and flung the garment aside. She smoothed her hands over his chest, and he sucked in a gasp of satisfaction to have her touch him with intention and desire.
He kissed her hard and deep, his tongue plundering, as if that could sate the craving clawing through him.
She tugged at his pants now. “You’re wearing way too many clothes.”
“I could say the same of you.”
She pulled her heavy shirt over her head and dropped it on the floor. Shoes and pants went next, followed by panties. She had full, perfect rose-tipped breasts, a slender waist, and womanly hips. Shapely legs narrowed to slender ankles. Even her feet were cute.
“Are you just going to stare at me?”
“I guess I could stare and undress at the same time.” He kept his eyes on her, kicking his shoes off so hard, one flew across the room and thunked against the door.
She laughed. “Eager much?”
“Much.” He shoved his pants and briefs off together. His cock jutted out, resting against his abdomen.
A teasing smile played on her lips as her gaze lingered on his naked form. “That was worth waiting for.”
“There’s more to come,” he joked.
“I’m counting on it.”
He kissed her then, and it was pure bliss to press naked flesh to naked flesh. He guided her to the bed and flung off the covers, wanting no encumbrances to impede upon their coupling. He thanked his foresight to stoke the stove before dinner, ensuring the cabin would be warm upon their return—and for showering ahead of time. Claustrophobia was a poor aphrodisiac.
But he couldn’t imagine even that could have doused his ardor. He reveled in her, caressing and kissing her neck, her breasts, her stomach, her thighs. He explored her womanly folds with fingers and mouth, her arching back and cries of ecstasy testing his self-control.
He shuddered when she grasped and stroked his cock, teasing him to the brink of passionate torment.
Gripped by a heated tension, he slipped into her wet, tight warmth, shuddering at the intensity of sensation. In pleasure, they rocked in perfect sync, scaling the heights of ecstasy.
Her orgasmic cries ignited his climax, and he came with a supernova explosion, his body engulfed in a fireball of burning bliss. Convulsing, he spilled himself into her, emptying himself of more than his seed. He could feel the ties to the past breaking and vaporizing.
Chest heaving, drained, replete, he braced on his forearms to avoid crushing her with his weight as he recovered. He kissed her temple, her face, her ear. She rubbed her cheek against his shoulder and hugged his neck tighter.
Don’t let me go. Stay with me. Let’s do this thing called life together.
It wasn’t post-coital lassitude making him feel that way. He’d never felt this heady connection and belonging, ever. He’d usedwomen for sexual release, yes, but he’d never had the urge to hang around until morning, let alone a lifetime. But that’s what he desired with Amity. A lifetime of dinners—hopefullysomeof them alone—pillow talk and bedtime fun and games. Rides across the tundra, and who knew what else. They would find out together.
“You weren’t kidding when you said there was more to come.” She smiled against his throat.
