Page 91 of Where We Burn


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Then he draws me in, one arm wrapped tight around my waist, the other guiding my face to his as his mouth crashes into mine in a kiss that tastes like whiskey, want, and something so deep it makes my heart crack clean open. When I pull back, slightly breathless, I study the man in front of me, who’s trying so hard to hold it all together.

“If that’s true,” I whisper, brushing the pad of my thumb over the corner of his mouth, “then what’s with drinking yourself numb?”

His eyes flutter closed at my touch like it heals something inside him. “I needed it.”

He kisses the tip of my nose and pulls back to look at me with those dark eyes. There’s heat there, but pain too.

“Christian, if you keep looking at me like that…” My fingers tremble as they find the buttons of his shirt, undoing the first, then the second. “I’m gonna end up taking advantage of you. And just so we’re clear, I don’t fuck drunk guys, so you need to—” His mouth silences me, stealing the words right off my tongue, and I fall into him, dragging my nails down his chest.

“Please,” he begs against my lips. “Please, Piper.”

But he’s not begging for my body.

He’s begging for us.

If I’m what he needs to survive tonight, if I’m the only thing he can still hold on to, then I’m going to let him take every last piece of me.

I trail my mouth along his jaw and down the column of his throat. My lips stop at his pulse point while my fingers work his belt, and that clank is a sound I swear I’ll chase for the rest of my life.

“Lift.” One word, and he obeys, letting me strip away his jeans and boxer briefs until he’s gloriously naked.

My cowboy is spread out on my bed like some kind of offering—all golden skin and hard muscle, propped back on his hands while I drink him in.

“Clothes off,” he demands, and I just shake my head, trailing my nails slowly up the insides of his thick thighs, watching his whole body tighten in response. “Not tonight. Let me take care of you.”

“At least the shirt… Show me those gorgeous tits.”

I peel off my T-shirt, and the desperate, hungry groan that escapes him has heat pooling low in my belly.

“Fuck,” he rasps, “I’m never gonna survive your mouth.”

His hands twitch where they rest on the bed, and I can tell it’s physically killing him not to reach out and touch me. But he’s right. He won’t survive me. Because tonight, I’m going to love him the way he’s never been loved before.

I keep my eyes on his face as I place kisses along his inner thighs, my nails scratching across his calves, and his muscles tremble and tense beneath my touch. He’s so responsive to me, so open, as if no one’s ever taken their time with him before.

I breathe him in as I kiss my way up higher, wrapping my hand around the base of his cock while my tongue traces patterns on his skin. I start with his balls, and when I glance up, I find his eyes burning into me. He’s thick and heavy in my palm and already glistening at the tip. When I lean in and drag my tongue across that first bead of arousal, he surges forward, grips my throat, and pulls me into a kiss that’s messy and so fucking desperate.

It’s like he doesn’t know how else to say, “I love you,” or “Don’tstop,” or “Please, I need this.”

“See how good you taste?” I whisper against his lips before I lower again, eyes holding his, and kiss the head of his cock.

“You’re driving me out of my fucking mind.”He lets out a breathless laugh. “Fair warning, I’m gonna last about thirty seconds.” He laughs again, and my heart squeezes in my chest.

We’re so comfortable with each other that we can find humor even in moments where desire has us both by the throat, which is how I know this man is going to be the best friend, the best partner, and the best everything I could ever want.

Christian Crawford doesn’t have hang-ups.

He doesn’t fake bravado or pretend he’s got some romance-novel stamina. My cowboy might blow in five minutes flat that first time, but he’ll stay hard enough to wreck me twice more before the sun comes up.He’s raw and real and perfect, and he’s all mine.

“Good girl, just like that.” The praise rolls through me like honey as I take him deep, gagging around his length.

When I pull back to tease him with my tongue, his eyes lock onto mine with a heat so intense it makes my thighs clench.

“Hey,” he whispers as I release him. “I need…”

I know what he needs, and it’s not just a release. He needs connection and closeness. He needs skin-on-skin.

I stand, shimmying out of my sweats and panties, letting them pool at my feet until there’s nothing left between us. Those large hands find my waist, tugging me close and fitting me between his spread thighs.