Morgan’s lips were exactly as soft as he’d imagined they’d be—no, scratch that. They were softer. And the way they opened for him almost immediately, a little sigh escaping her as he slowly deepened the kiss, was the stuff erotic dreams were made of.
She tasted of the chocolates she’d been eating and the wine she’d been drinking, combining into a flavor that was part innocence and part pure sensuality, the mix catching him in a grip so strong he couldn’t break it.
He didn’t want to break it.
She relaxed against him, the softness of her curves fitting him perfectly, bright points of heat he could feel way down deep inside. So warm, the scent of vanilla wrapping around him, holding him so tight, and the heat of her mouth a revelation.
He shouldn’t have reached for her. He shouldn’t have kissed her.
But she’d told him she wanted a night with him. Not just any man. Him.
And he should have been able to resist that, but he couldn’t.
The voice in his head had whispered that it was wrong, that it was going to end badly, that he’d end up disappointing her the way he always ended up disappointing people, but he’d ignored it, reaching for her instead. And now here she was, in his arms, her mouth under his, and he didn’t want to be anywhere else except right here, with her.
He couldn’t remember a time when he’d last been so physically aware of a woman. And not because he was overly selfish in bed; he also made sure that any pleasure received was also given. But it had never been personal like this. One night of release with women who didn’t want more had been the sole extent of his love life.
He’d never realized that kissing a woman he knew wouldn’t be the same as kissing someone he didn’t or how much knowing her added to the experience. How it made him want to find out what she looked like naked and under him, whether she’d be quite so tough and no-nonsense or whether she’d be soft and vulnerable. Whether her honesty in casual conversation would translate to honesty in bed. Whether the caring heart that passionately protected her town would make her a caring and passionate lover.
God, so many things he wanted to know.
His fingers curled in the soft, damp mass of her hair, urging her head back a little more so he could explore the heat of her mouth, deepening the kiss.
She made a soft, encouraging sound, her tongue meeting his, tentative at first and then more confident, trying to kiss him back. She was obviously inexperienced, but somehow that made it even more erotic.
Then she pushed at him abruptly and he pulled back, looking down at her with some concern. But it appeared she’d only pushed at him to give herself room to drop her clothes because she discarded them onto the porch, then slid her hands up and around his neck, rising up on her toes to follow his mouth hungrily.
Her towel had loosened. Another moment and it would fall right off, leaving her naked. The idea made him hungry and possessive. He didn’t want anyone seeing her like this, which was a weird thought to have when there was no one around for miles but the odd bear and maybe a couple of moose. Still, though…
He pulled away and, before she could protest, gathered her up in his arms.
She didn’t struggle, merely putting a hand on his chest. Her face had gone very pink, her mouth very red, and he wanted to kiss it again. “Hey, you don’t have to carry me.”
“Yes, I do.” He started for the front door.
She relaxed against his shoulder. “Does this mean you’ve changed your mind?”
“I suppose it does.” He pulled the door open and stepped inside, making sure to close it again after him. Morgan’s towel was very loose, revealing the pretty, silky skin of her side and breast, and he tried not to notice.
“Why?”
He didn’t like to talk at the best of times and he really didn’t want to talk now.
“Not a good time for questions, sunshine girl.” He moved to the stairs.
She gave a little sigh, but he could feel her gaze on him. “I suppose now is kind of the wrong time to tell you that I…uh…haven’t done this before.”
Zeke stopped in the middle of the stairway and looked down at her.
She’d gone an adorable shade of pink. “Sorry. I probably should have mentioned that, right?”
His gut lurched, but he couldn’t stop this now. It was too late. If he put her down and walked away, he’d hurt her and that was exactly the opposite of what he wanted to do.
Plus, there was also the small fact that he didn’t want to stop either.
“Morgan,” he began.
“I know, I know. I should have told you.” Her gaze was very direct and very dark. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It may not matter to you, but it matters to me.”
“Why? I’m not a holy relic. And if you even mention all that crap about taking advantage of me again, then God help me, I’ll tase you and lock you in the basement.”
She looked almost fierce, a glimpse of her strong will shining through.
What had Phil said? It takes a mule to move a mule, and hell, looked like the old man was right.
It also means she chose you, asshole. Are you really going to throw that back in her face?
Zeke shifted his grip, meeting her blue gaze. “You want me to be your first time? You sure about that?”
“What? You think I said all those things about you for fun?” Her gaze became even more fierce. “I meant them, Zeke.”
She did—he could see that. When Morgan was being honest, there was no doubt. She hid nothing, kept nothing back. Taking people at face value was always a tough choice for him, but he knew he could take Morgan at her word.
His chest ached, as if she’d somehow managed to get her fingers around his heart and was squeezing gently.
“I’ll make it good for you,” he said roughly. “I promise.”
Relief flickered in her eyes and that delectable mouth of hers curved in the sweetest of smiles. “You already have.”
The constriction in his chest tightened further, but he ignored it, bending and brushing his mouth over hers in a soft kiss. Then he lifted his head. “Anything else you want to tell me?”
“Nope.” She leaned back against his shoulder once more, then trailed her fingers across his chest, sending sparks of heat rippling through him. “I’m good.”
“Okay.” Zeke climbed the rest of the stairs and started down the hallway to her bedroom. “We’ll take it slow. There’s no rush.”
He stepped into the sweet vanilla scent of Morgan’s room and moved to the delicate wrought-iron bed with its white quilt and scattering of pillows. “I want you to tell me what you like and what you don’t. And if you’re not enjoying anything, tell me to stop and I will.”
He bent and put her on the bed, then followed her down onto it, kneeling over her, then putting his hands down on either side of her head so she was stretched out beneath him.
Her eyes were huge and dark, and he looked for fear but there was none. Only a glittering, hectic excitement.
“Tell me you understand,” he said. “It’s important that you be honest with me, okay?”
“I understand.” Her voice had got husky and her gaze kept dropping to his mouth and down further, looking at him with a slightly dazed expression, which pleased him no end.
“Good.” He reached out to the little lamp on the nightstand beside the bed and switched it on. The pink scarf Morgan had draped over it gave the room a soft, diffuse glow, illuminating her perfectly.
“There,” he said softly. “Now I can see you.”
She’d gone even pinker. “Is that a good thing?”
“Yes, definitely.” He bent and brushed his mouth over hers, another light kiss, just to set the tone of what was to come, because he wanted to go carefully with her. He had to stay in control and take things nice and slow. The last thing on earth he wanted to do was scare her.
Except it was clear that Morgan West had other ideas.
As he raised his head, preparing to gently pull the towel away from her body, she ripped it away herself. Then she reached her arms around his neck, wrapped her legs around his waist, and pulled him down on top of her.
* * *
Morgan had never felt so hungry or as desperate for anyone as she was for Zeke in that moment. And she was tired of waiting.
She hadn’t particularly wanted to tell him that she was a virgin, but he’d no doubt figure it out for himself anyway, and since she was trying to be honest, she’d felt she had to.
She knew he wouldn’t take it well, but apparently better than expected.
Still, she didn’t want him to treat her as if she was some kind of fragile flower or decide she was too pure to sleep with or some other ridiculous excuse.
He was very heavy on top of her, but she loved it. Loved how it felt to be pinned beneath him, grounded and sheltered by his hot, muscular body.
Except then he shifted, his hands gripping her wrists and holding them down on either side of her head, his head lifting, his dark eyes staring down into hers. There was fire in them, a blazing heat that took her breath away. “Slow, I said,” he growled.
“I don’t want slow.” She couldn’t stop looking at his perfectly carved mouth and further down to the strong column of his neck, where his pulse beat at the base of his throat.
Then she realized that he was looking at her with what was probably equal ferocity.
A wave of heat washed over her, because of course she’d gotten rid of the towel and she was now completely naked. Which she’d never been with another adult human, not since she’d been small.
There was no embarrassment, though. Not when he was looking at her the same way a man dying of thirst looks at a cold mountain lake.
He muttered something soft under his breath, his gaze roaming from her mouth to her throat and then down further, over her breasts to the dark, shadowed place between her thighs. “You’re so pretty.” His voice was deep and gravelly and delicious. “Just…beautiful.”
She blushed. She’d never been called beautiful before, certainly never felt particularly beautiful. But she felt it. Right now, with him, she thought it might even be a little bit true.
She stretched, watching the heat flare in his black eyes and enjoying it. Except he was wearing far too many clothes. “I want to see you too.”
He gave a slow nod, then let go of her wrists and raised himself up. Tearing his Henley over the top of his head and off. And then she could see him, the light from her lamp letting her see just how nicely he was put together. Chiseled dips and hollows of bone and muscle, every line of him pure power. All covered in that smooth, velvety skin she’d seen on the roof.
A work of sublime masculine beauty carved in gold and bronze, the light lovingly tracing every carved inch of muscle and bone.
He was so beautiful.
She lifted a hand, touched his bare chest, and yes, he felt just as smooth and velvety as he looked, and so warm too.
He made a hot growling sound deep in his throat, and then he bent down, his mouth on hers. She put her arms around him again, pulling him down, his weight on her so good. The pressure of him between her thighs and the rough fabric of his jeans was creating the most incredible friction. She wanted to rock herself against him, chasing the sparks of pleasure it generated. Wanting to blaze like the fire beneath the bath outside.
His mouth was a glory, hot and firm, and he growled again as she arched up into his hard body, the most exhilarating sound she’d ever heard.
She liked making this bear growl.
The heat of him astonished her, made her even hungrier, and she tightened her arms around his neck, kissing him harder. He tasted so good, a dark, rich flavor that reminded her of the very best cocoa-heavy Swiss chocolate, and she wanted more.
He was lying fully on her now, the hardness of him against the softness of her a revelation. She wanted his bare skin on hers, wanted his hands on her, touching her. She wanted his mouth on her too. She wanted everything.
“Morgan,” he murmured against her mouth. “Morgan, wait.”
But she didn’t want to wait. She wanted him now. Right now.
Except then he was pulling her arms away from around his neck, his strength irresistible, and he gently pushed them down, her wrists pinned on the pillow on either side of her head once again.
There was a fierce expression on his beautiful face, his eyes glittering as he looked down at her. “Easy,” he said, his voice roughened. “You don’t have to rush. We’ve got plenty of time.”
She was panting, the sound of it loud, but she didn’t care. “I know I don’t have to rush, but what about if I want to? You don’t have to be careful with me, Zeke. I might be a virgin, but I’m not made of glass.”
“I know you’re not, but I’m not exactly small. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t.” She tried to pull her wrists out of his grip, but he was too strong, so she had to settle for staring fiercely up at him instead. “I just don’t want you to hold back. I’m not afraid. And I want this to be good for you too.”
She couldn’t read the expression on his face, but for a second something bright glittered in his eyes. Something that excited her beyond words. A glimpse of a wild creature behind the impassive, controlled man.
Oh she wanted to see more of that. She wanted to set that creature free.
“It will be.” His voice sounded like it was full of ground glass, rough and jagged. “But I’m—” He broke off abruptly as she lifted her hips beneath his, pressing herself against him, watching the glitter in his black eyes become pronounced, listening as he caught his breath sharply.
“You’re what?” she asked breathlessly and did it again.
A muscle ticked in the side of his jaw. “Morgan,” he growled.
“What?” She rocked against him, pressing that aching, needy part of her against the hard length behind his zipper. “Do you want me to stop? Am I going too fast for you, big man? Can’t handle a little ole virgin like me, hmmm?”
He made another harsh sound that thrilled her down to her bones, and then he released her wrists, his hands sliding beneath her, lifting her against him, even as he covered her mouth with his in a kiss so hot and desperate it drove all the breath from her body.
A demanding kiss, allowing her no quarter. Taking what she had to give, taking everything. One hand slid behind the back of her head, holding her still as he kissed her deeper, harder. Not a careful or slow kiss, but passionate, wild. A taste of the savage wilderness he’d come from.
It was glorious.
She writhed against him, arching up, wanting more of him against her, chasing the pleasure that sparked through every cell in her body. Until eventually, his mouth moved to her throat, pressing burning kisses there and along her collarbone, his hands tracing the shape of her, brushing down her sides and then over her breasts. Moving down to her hips, then further, lightly touching, and further still, his hand between her thighs, his fingers sliding over her slick flesh, finding that sensitive, needy place and stroking lightly at first and then harder.
Pleasure cascaded through her, a bright shower of sparks that had her gasping. “Zeke…” His name escaped in a burst of wonder. “Oh…yes.…”
She arched underneath him, pressing herself into his hand, desperate for more. His mouth burned at her throat, moving lower, the soft press of his lips brushing over the curve of one breast and then over the aching tip. She shuddered, sighing, only to moan aloud as the heat of his mouth surrounded her nipple and then pressure as he sucked on it.
The sensation was unbelievably good.
Her hands were free, so she lifted them, shoving her fingers into his thick, black hair and gripping tight, arching yet again into him, desperate for more.
The hot weight of him was pressing her into the mattress and the pressure of his mouth on her nipple, the feel of his fingers sliding between her legs, stroking her, were all steadily driving her onward to the edge of something immense. A cliff she wanted to launch herself off and fly free.
She couldn’t wait.
“Zeke.” His name was hoarse and broken, but she didn’t care. “Oh, Zeke. Please…”
She tightened her legs around his lean waist, her hands dropping from his hair to grip his broad shoulders, fingers falling on velvet skin and digging into iron muscle.
She couldn’t stand it. He was making her crazy.
She twisted, but the weight of him on top of her, pressing her down into the mattress made it impossible. He just kept on stroking her, moving his mouth to her other breast and sucking gently.
Pleasure rose like a wave, pushing her higher, pushing her onward to that cliff and then to the edge, holding her there for a second so that she was shaking from head to foot. And then he did something amazing with his hand, and she cried out, tumbling over the edge, weightless in the air, flying…
She was barely conscious of anything but the chaos of pleasure he’d unleashed inside her, unable to move for long moments afterward as sparks scattered behind her closed lids. And she just wanted to lie there, floating in a sea of warmth and contentment, her body heavy, thinking of nothing as the waves of bliss lapped at her…
But she could feel him moving, the mattress dipping and shifting in response and then the sound of something heavy falling on the floor. The crackle of foil.
She opened her eyes and her breath caught. Hard.
Zeke knelt between her thighs, and he was naked.
She couldn’t tear her gaze away. He was a man carved out of warm, living rock, every muscle lovingly sculpted, etched there by a master. The broad planes of his chest, the hard corrugations of his stomach, the powerful lines of his biceps, the carved hollows just above his hips…
His big hands were moving, rolling down the condom over the long, hard length of him.
Morgan’s heartbeat, only just recovering from the effects of the climax Zeke had given her, began to accelerate yet again, and she pushed herself up, reaching out to him, wanting to touch.
But he caught her hands and held them to his chest, and then she found herself on her back again, the heat of his bare skin on hers, searing her, scorching her.
She shuddered, spreading her fingers out on his pectorals, reveling in the feel of him.
There was fire in his eyes and she reveled in that too because she knew who’d put it there: her.
“Are you ready for me?” he murmured, sliding his hands beneath her butt and lifting her slightly.
“Yes.” She pressed her hands against him harder, not to push him away, but to test him and his strength. “Oh, so ready.”
And then she could feel him, pushing gently, but insistently inside her, and she could feel herself stretch around him. He was very big and it wasn’t exactly comfortable, but she fought the urge to stiffen up, breathing hard as he slid deeper.
His gaze was fixed to hers, watching her, the blackness of his eyes as hot as his kisses. She couldn’t look away as he pushed into her, and there was some pain, but it wasn’t bad and she breathed through it.
Then it was gone and there was just the burn of sensitive tissues stretching and the strangeness of having someone inside her. She squirmed, trying to get comfortable, but there was no comfort to be had. Only him inside her. Him, everywhere.
She panted, overwhelmed, her nails pushing against his skin.
“Morgan.” His voice was so deep and rough she barely understood him. “Are you okay?”
Protective, that’s what he was, and she could see the concern in his eyes; he wanted to make this good for her.
“Yes,” she said and took a deep breath, and the weird moment of discomfort passed. And then there was only an insistent ache that made her want to move, to lift her hips, to have the long, hot length of him slide out and press back in. “Please…”
His hips shifted, and she felt him slide out before they flexed and he was pushing back in, a deep, slow rhythm that made the ache turn into something more demanding, pleasure uncurling through her, thick and lazy and hot.
She couldn’t tear her gaze from his face because she could see it uncurling in him too, the same pleasure. The same heat. And it struck her as wonderful and amazing that they were both feeling the exact same thing at the exact same time, a moment of perfect understanding. Sharing the same pleasure, both of them giving and receiving.
There was a taut look to his mouth, a tension in his jaw and in those heavily muscled shoulders. She didn’t like it. He didn’t have to leash himself, not here. Not with her.
She spread her hands wide, up and over his shoulders and upper arms, stroking him. “I’m okay, Zeke. You don’t have to hold back.”
He murmured something under his breath and then his mouth was on hers, and he was kissing her hard and deep. She wrapped her arms around him, wrapped her legs around him, holding him to her as he began to move harder, faster.
The pleasure knotted and twisted, winding around them both, and he showed her how to move with him, helping him create something exquisite between them, something beautiful and rare. Glittering pleasure woven through with fire and sparks, flames and hot embers. It felt like an enchantment, like magic, and she didn’t want it to end.
She wanted to remain lost in his gaze, in the heat they were generating and the unspoken understanding that flowed between them, made of pleasure and magic and wonder.
But it was going to end and soon, the fever inside her reaching a heated peak, the pleasure getting sharper and brighter, the pressure almost too much to bear.
Then his big hands beneath her tilted her hips, and he thrust hard, the angle brushing something inside her that sent her over the edge, making her open her mouth as the pleasure rushed up inside her, a cry of delight threatening to escape.
But then his lips covered hers, his kiss hot and hungry, swallowing her cry.
And she was lost in the magic of it and of him, as he moved suddenly faster and deeper, his hands moving to hold her steady as he chased his own climax.
Then he turned his head into her neck, growling her name as it hit, his big body stiffening, then shuddering. And she wrapped herself around him, holding him tight as he lost himself to it.
It seemed like forever before he finally moved, and it was a pity when he did because she’d never felt safer than she did right then, with his muscular body on hers, the ultimate shelter. She never even thought that she’d want safe, but apparently a part of her did and was very content to rest beneath him.
Sadly though, he moved, lifting his head and looking down at her, his gaze roaming over her, checking to make sure she was okay.
She smiled up at him. She’d never felt better in her entire life.
“That,” she said, “was amazing. Can we do it again?”