Montana Rescue (The Wildes of Birch Bay Book 2)

by Kim Law

  Chapter Six

  The door cracked opened three narrow inches in front of him, and the first thing to register was the scream in the background. Nick’s eyes widened in question.

  “Horror movie,” Harper said. She licked her lips before doing the same to her fingers, and Nick picked up on the smell of butter.

  “With popcorn?”

  “Of course.”

  The door remained open only a sliver of space, telling him he should turn and walk away. She didn’t want him here. Instead, he held up two beers. “Need something to drink with the popcorn?”

  She eyed the offering, and he would have bet money she’d pass on the opportunity, but one arm snaked out of the darkness, and, after twisting off the cap, she drank half the bottle.

  Another scream sounded as light flickered in the room behind her, and she peeked back. He could tell by her total absorption in staring across the room that she’d immediately gotten sucked in to whatever was happening on the television screen. And he had a sudden urge to see the movie himself.

  “Want company?” he asked.

  Harper turned back to him. The look on her face said that she could see through him as easily as a sheet of glass. “What are you doing here, Nick?”

  I was hoping you might want to finish that kiss.

  Instead of answering, he gulped.

  Harper turned up her beer again, eyeing him from beneath lowered lids as she drained the bottle. He couldn’t have spoken at that moment if he’d wanted to. He was too transfixed by watching her drink. The woman could make any action sexy.

  When the bottle was empty, she wiped her mouth, narrowed her eyes on him, then gave a single nod and stepped back. She pushed the door open and motioned with her head for him to come inside. “I suppose you’re here to ask what that kiss was about?”

  The lady got right to the point. “I”—he shrugged, trying to look casual—“actually just thought you might want some company. And beer.”

  She guffawed at his attempted diversion, and moved away. She muted the television and turned on a lamp, then swiped at a spray of popcorn on the bed, raking it into a pile in the middle of the bedspread before scooping it up with both hands.

  “Messy eater,” Nick observed from behind her.

  “Your knock came at an inopportune time,” she replied. She dumped the popcorn into a wastebasket and dusted off her hands. “Scared the shit out of me, actually.” When she faced him again, she crossed her arms just beneath her breasts and jutted one hip out to the side. She gave him a pointed look, as if to say, Get on with it, little boy. Let’s talk about that kiss and be done with it.

  But again, no words would come. Instead, his gaze went into motion, traveling over her shoulders and biceps. He’d known she was toned before. That was obvious in her moves as well as the fit of her clothes. But until this moment, he hadn’t seen her in anything that fit quite the way her T-shirt did. It was thin, its sleeves a couple of inches shorter than the standard “short sleeve,” and it seemed to be made up of at least a small percentage of spandex. The pale-pink shirt wasn’t so tight that it couldn’t be worn in public, but it was tight enough that he noticed she wasn’t only trim and in great shape. She was ripped.

  “What do you do for a workout?” he asked.

  Her chin angled down, even as her eyes looked up at him. “Really? You’re here in my room at close to midnight. Uninvited, I might add. After I knocked your socks off with a kiss. And you want to talk about my exercise regime?”

  “Okay.” He dared her with his return look. If she wanted to get right to the point, he’d go there. “Then let’s talk about the kiss.” And while he was at it, he’d back her against the wall and show her what it meant to knock someone’s socks off. He took another step toward her.

  But instead of replying, Harper disappeared into the bathroom.

  The door closed behind her, and the space went deathly silent, and in the next instant Nick let out a ragged breath and asked himself what kind of fool he was. He could be hooking up with Betsy or any number of other women there tonight. Women who would love to spend time with him.

  Or he could be asleep. A good night’s rest certainly wouldn’t hurt since he’d had a poor showing that evening. He had a lot of ground to make up tomorrow.

  Yet what he was doing instead was standing in the middle of his pubescent crush’s motel room, letting her taunt him as she’d always done—while ridiculously hoping that she might kiss him just one more time.

  He laughed at himself. Would he never quit crushing on this woman?

  He should have stuck with the original plan of being her friend only. He turned his back to the still-closed bathroom door and moved to the window. The curtains were pulled tight, so he opened them before removing the cap to his beer. The light outside the motel’s office showed an empty parking lot and highlighted the closed and dark café across the street. Everyone was tucked away in their rooms for the night. Which was where he should be.

  The water came on in the bathroom behind him, and he tilted up his beer, trying not to imagine what Harper might be doing inside that room. He was an idiot. Because the one thing he should not have done tonight was let his dick lead him straight to Harper.

  Harper stood in front of the mirror, water running into the sink, and stared at her overheated face. Her breaths had grown shallow as her thoughts fought to be heard. The minute she’d opened the door to Nick, her innermost secrets had demanded to be the center of attention. At first there’d been only whispers of things she could do to Nick. That Nick could do to her. But then naughty visions of those exact scenarios began playing out for her to see. Her naked. Nick naked.

  And neither of them remaining separate from the other.

  She gulped as she once again imagined the man in her bedroom with no clothes on, and she splashed water on her cheeks. Its startling coolness seemed to sizzle on contact.

  Then she asked herself if she could really do it? If she should do it?

  Because, oh, she so wanted to.

  She pulled her shirt over her head and took off her bra, and simply stared at her reflection. She’d been so alone since Thomas had left. So sad and angry. And damn, but she’d hurt. She dropped the clothing at her feet and studied her body. She was fit, with few extra curves, but that lack had never bothered Thomas. In fact, he’d liked it.

  She lifted her hands, bringing her palms to her breasts, and sucking in a sharp breath at the contact. It had been far too long since she’d been touched.

  Her nipples pebbled, scratching at her skin, and she gently squeezed herself. And with the pressure, she closed her eyes at the immediate flood of sensations. She may have just been thinking of her husband, but the only thing in the world she could focus on in that moment was Nick. And how she wanted nothing more than his hands replacing hers.

  She needed to feel again. Something more than hurt. And she needed to do that tonight.

  With no additional thought, she added her jeans and panties to the pile at her feet and she exited the small bathroom. It didn’t take but a second for Nick to turn from the window, and when he did, Harper took note of the quick change from normal, casual movement to every single muscle inside him tensing up. His beer hovered halfway to his mouth, and his eyes didn’t blink.

  “Is this why you showed up at my door?” she asked.

  Finally, something about him moved—he gulped. She saw the movement in his throat from across the room, and that simple token of nervousness managed to evaporate her tension over what she was about to do.

  “Close the curtains, Nick.” She began to move toward him. “We don’t need anyone watching us tonight.”

  “This isn’t why I came over here.”

  Her feet stalled at his choked-out words, and her nerves flared. Had she been wrong? “You want me to put my clothes back on?”

  “No.” The answer came fast and strained. Then he fumbled to set his beer on the bedside table, sloshing out several drops before righting it, whi
le never once taking his eyes off her. When he subsequently reached blindly behind him, tugging at the curtains one-handed, her nerves subsided. He looked ridiculous. Like the kid who’d once wanted her but had been too young to know how to handle it. His Adam’s apple rose and fell once again.

  “Then what do you want?” she asked softly. She forced her fear back behind her boldness.

  “I . . .” His words trailed off as she again began moving. This time she didn’t stop until she stood directly in front of him.

  “Turn off the light,” she commanded.

  One hand reached out and flipped off the lamp, and the room went dark except for the flash of the muted horror movie continuing to play out behind her.

  “Now put your hands on me.”

  When he didn’t immediately move, she ignored the voice telling her this was her out. That she could change her mind and walk away, no harm done. Because she didn’t want to change her mind and walk away. She might regret it in the morning, but at that moment, regret was the last word on her mind. So she reached for Nick.

  She covered her body with his hands, his palms fully encasing both her breasts, and the skin-on-skin contact shut down her ability to breathe. When she realized she’d also closed her eyes, she forced them open. She didn’t want to miss a moment of this. And what she found when she once again looked at Nick was his dark, unwavering gaze.

  He shifted slightly, lowering his hands just enough so that his palms cupped the undersides of each breast a bit more fully. More possessively. And when he squeezed, his eyes still glued to hers, she felt the imprint of ten long strokes of heat where his fingers imprisoned her.

  She bit back a groan as her entire body began to shimmer with need.

  “You’re sure about this?” he asked.

  “Positive.” Almost.

  His head nodded almost imperceptibly, and his eyes dipped, taking in her naked body. His fingers kneaded her as he drank his fill, and when he dragged his gaze back up the length of her, she watched his chest rise and fall with each of his breaths. “I did come over with the intention of kissing you,” he confessed. “Or, at least trying to.” His eyes flitted over her again, as if they had a mind of their own. “I will admit that much. But I swear I didn’t plan to push for anything more.”

  She smiled softly and lifted her fingers to his plaid shirt. “Then it’s a good thing I made that push for you.” But when his thumbs began to flick over her turgid nipples, she expelled a burst of air from between her lips. “But you better tell me you have a condom somewhere on your body.”

  “I have a condom somewhere on my body.”

  And with those eight words, Nick lost both hesitancy and shock. His mouth came down hard, his tongue parting her lips with the assurance of a man who knew how to move this evening toward a grand finale, and his hands sought out the contours of her butt. He tested the lower curve of her cheeks in his palms, a groan ripping from the back of his throat, then jerked her forward, bringing her into full contact with his body. Her own moan joined his.

  “You’re wearing too many clothes,” she whispered.

  “Then take them off me.”

  She didn’t have to be told twice. She ripped open the buttons of his shirt, her fingers flying over the material, while he continued a more leisurely tour of her backside. Once his skin was exposed, she thrust her hands inside the shirt and flattened her chest to his. A shiver wracked her body. His mouth latched onto the curve of her neck, nibbling, and he began inching her backward.

  She allowed him do whatever he wanted, barely conscious of his movements, while she focused solely on one thing. Touch. He was a symphony of textures. Hot, tight skin beneath the pads of her fingers, scratchy hair teasing at her nipples. The cool metal of his belt buckle pressing into her belly, and the soft rub of worn denim sliding along her thighs.

  When he palmed her butt and urged her upward, she lifted both legs and let him fit her to the hardness behind the zipper of his jeans. Her fingers shook as she shifted her hands to his belt buckle, ready to uncover all the treasures he held dear. She tugged, trying to free his belt, but progress quickly slowed. Because while she tried to remain on task, he’d started something new. His hands gripped her with clear determination, the fullest part of her rear filling his palms and his fingertips meeting in the middle. They dug deep into her soft flesh.

  Then with a fast squeeze, he angled her slightly down and away.

  “Oh, sheesh.” She sucked in a breath. His move had dragged her swollen, sensitive flesh over the denim. Her body throbbed.

  When he loosened his grip, she immediately thrust forward, grinding onto the ridge of his jeans. Her breath hitched. Then his knees bumped into the side of the bed, and the thought that he would put her down—disconnect her body from his—pulled a strangled whimper from her lips.

  “Please,” she begged. She was panting now.

  He didn’t lay her down, though. Instead he gripped and tipped her away from him once again, then reconnected her to his front. Each of her bumps against his body was accompanied by a small thrust of his own.

  The movements were subtle, but they were enough to drive her mad.

  Back and forth. Over and over.

  He kept it up, and her whimpers increased. He wouldn’t let her stay connected to him long enough to send her over the edge, but taunted her with all the different sensations instead. With each tiny thrust.

  “Please,” she begged again. Her body was tight now. Ready to fly.

  “Come for me.” His words were a whisper against her shoulder as he continued pumping her. His lips grazed over her skin.

  “I can’t . . .” She twitched in his hands.

  “You can.” He angled her away again. “You will.”

  She grabbed frantically at his shoulders, hoping to still his motions and control the game. But when his mouth shifted and his teeth bit into the flesh just above one breast, her entire body arched. She began to shake.

  He ducked his head and caught a nipple between his lips, and the shock of the touch had her shouting out. Her head dropped back. And she handed over complete surrender to Nick. His move had been the final push she’d needed. She was connected solidly with the denim now, and she ground herself tight.

  “Come,” his demanded hoarsely. Then his lips sucked her hard, pulling urgently at her breast, and she had no choice. She did exactly as he’d asked.

  The orgasm didn’t start slow. It immediately engulfed her, licking at her entire body with flames. Her thighs clenched, and her eyes rolled back in her head. Control was a thing of the past as spasms vibrated through her, almost to the point of pain.

  Only, it wasn’t pain she felt tonight. And she didn’t want to ever stop feeling it.

  After what seemed like forever, when her body finally calmed, her hands dropped to her sides, and her forehead landed on Nick’s shoulder. She was drained. And only after her breaths began to slow did she once again become aware of her surroundings, realizing that she’d not even managed to get one piece of clothing off his body. But she wasn’t about to apologize for her failure. She’d needed this. And danged, but he’d delivered.

  “You okay?” he asked. His words whispered across her ear, and her body shivered.

  “Maybe,” she murmured.

  He chuckled. “Ready for me to put you on the bed?”

  Honestly, she wanted to stay right where she was for a while longer. She liked the feel of his arms holding her. They were really strong. But she didn’t say any of that. Instead, she nodded, and only after he’d tugged the covers back and gently settled her head on her pillow, did she finally lift her gaze.

  His brows inched up. He was asking if he could join her. Or if she’d had enough.

  She hadn’t had nearly enough. “Take off your clothes.”

  Her throaty words were all he needed. The heat in his eyes turned to cinders, and in thirty seconds he was naked from head to toe. But when he put one knee on the bed at her side, she stopped him with a lifted palm
. He groaned, but he didn’t finish climbing in with her. He stayed right where he was, his body inches away. So she took a really long, fascinated stare.

  He was hard all over, his muscles well defined, with little body fat anywhere. Clearly he worked out. Often. And the highlight of his body—the really amazing area that she’d just rubbed herself all over—was thick. And not shy. It jutted right at her. So she slid a hand over him.

  “Harper,” Nick warned. His hips clenched, thrusting him farther into her grip.

  “You’re big,” she noted.

  Masculine pride flashed in his eyes.

  “And I’ll bet you’re good at this,” she went on. The line of his mouth remained flat as she spoke, his eyes carefully watching her again. She was stalling, but only for a minute. Only long enough to let her mind catch up with her body.

  It had been a really long time since she’d done this. Understandably, she was a little nervous. As well as fascinated.

  And also angry.

  She’d never wanted to sleep with anyone but Thomas.

  She stroked her hand to the base of Nick and back up, shoving her husband from her mind. Then she repeated her action a second time. The third sweep of her grip up to the head of Nick’s penis had her fingers squeezing harder, and a tiny bead of moisture appeared on the tip. So she leaned in.

  He remained in her hand, so she felt him tense. At the same time, his breaths shortened. Peering up from her intimate position, she thrilled at the look of pleading on his face. And finally, she felt back in control.

  She stuck her tongue out and touched him, and his body jerked. Then without further hesitation, she fit her lips around his head and his hands came down on her shoulders. His fingers dug in hard, and a heavy grunt hit her ears. And after a few seconds of simply absorbing—the way her mouth stretched around him, the feel of his blood pumping so close to the skin—Harper finally began to move. She took him deeper into her mouth, sliding her lips and hands up and down the length of him together, while her tongue played its own game over the heated flesh.