“I love you, Holly,” he said firmly. “And everything that you are.”
“I love you too,” she said, meaning it, meaning every letter in those three words more than she had ever meant them, and she grabbed a handful of his thick hair and pulled him in for another kiss. His mouth lingered, tongue tasting her, as she needed to be close to him now, impossibly close, needed him inside of her, all over her.
“Am I sexy when I cry?” she laughed against his mouth, the release of tears making her giddy.
“Very,” he grinned and she laughed louder this time and he joined in.
“You’re perfect, Mrs. Holly Westmore,” he said as he bunched her dress around her hips.
“Take it off,” she said. Even though she’d liked the initial reaction, she realized now that making new memories were better than rehashing old ones and she felt suddenly like there were too many clothes between them. “I want to feel your skin on mine.”
He obliged eagerly and murmured, “Turn around.”
She couldn’t help but grin. “You remembered.”
“I listen better than you think,” he told her as she shifted onto her stomach to give him access to the zipper in the back. She folded her arms under her head, tucking into them like a pillow and she felt his fingers draw the zipper down slowly. Her skin tingled as his lips ghosted over the bare patch, nibbling his way down her body. She gasped and lifted so he could roll her straps over her shoulders and draw the dress down her body. He rolled it away, slowly exposing her back and then her bare ass and her legs, all the way down until she was completely naked, breasts pressed against the mattress, ass on full display. She knew all too well that he was a self-proclaimed ass man and she bit back a grin when she felt him spring off the bed to stand up and admire it. She heard his own clothes rustled as they dropped, shirt, pants, all falling to the floor. She itched to turn around and see him, but instead, she pressed her ass back and said, “Are you going to look or are you going to touch?”
“I’m going to look,” he said. There was no rush in his voice—stubborn Alpha—and she supposed this was punishment for leaving him burning back on the porch. She shifted her face on the mattress to look back and saw him naked, in full glory, standing at the foot of the bed and drinking her in with his eyes. She could map out the lines of his muscles with her eyes, lines that ran into scars, old and new, some cuts from the cougar’s claws that had healed jaggedly. He was never ashamed of his scars, it seemed, and wore them like marks of battle, which just made her feel more pride for her protective Alpha.
Down, his hips melded at the perfect V of his abdomen, and his strong cock stood proudly. So hard for her, all for her, and he tugged on it absently as he took in the curves of her figure with his eyes. The sight made her mouth water, suddenly incredibly jealous that his hands got to feel him, and she wanted to wrap her fingers around that thick cock. She wanted to feel it twitch and hear him moan under her tongue, but instead she waited obediently. Her hips squirmed longingly and, if she shifted the right way, she could feel her clit hit the soft fabric of the mattress. Holly heard herself whimper and she found herself humping the sheets pathetically.
“Do you want me inside of you?” he said, his voice low and dark, sending shivers over her.
“Yes,” she murmured. “Please. I need you.”
He didn’t need any more encouragement. She heard the bed groan as his knees planted between her legs and then he lifted her hips so she was raised as well. She felt her inner core tremble with need as his thick fingers carefully parted her lips, spreading the wetness between her thighs, and then he murmured reverently, “You’re beautiful, Holly.”
She felt the head of his cock press against her then and she gasped as he eased inside of her, slowly. She could feel him, every inch, but she was soaking, feverishly desperate for more of him, all of him, and Holly shoved her hips against his, taking him inside her completely, suddenly. She cried out at the sensation, feeling wildly overwhelmed by the size of him, how he seemed to reach places inside her she hadn’t known existed, and she heard him moan behind her, felt his hips give a jerk, her own reward.
Holly felt his hand grip the back of her neck, holding her down, and her thighs spread wider for him, welcoming him inside of her. He kissed her throat and her shoulders, and then she felt teeth dig into her skin, marking her. She felt desperate, unraveling into a mess of a woman for him, her hips rolling back to meet his, to take him inside of her, pushing up against him again and again. She loved the feeling of Jacob over her, the warmth of his body, his soft lips and sharp teeth, every touch possessive and loving at the same time—Mine, this is mine, and thank God this is mine.