Page 17 of Bossy Mountain Daddies (Reverse Harem Mountain Daddies #3)

Skye

T he cold water bites at my skin as Griff's mouth moves against mine, his hands sliding up my back, pulling me closer. His tongue traces my bottom lip, and I open to him.

My body is caught between two sensations—burning desire and numbing cold—and for a moment, I can't tell which is winning. But then a shiver runs through me that has nothing to do with his touch, and I reluctantly pull away.

"I'm freezing," I admit, my teeth starting to chatter.

His eyes search mine, and he nods. "Come on," he says, taking my hand and leading me toward the shore. Water streams down our bodies as we emerge, the air warm against my wet skin. Griff grabs the blanket we were sitting on earlier and wraps it around my shoulders.

"Better?" he asks, his voice rough.

I nod, clutching the edges of the blanket and trying to get my teeth to stop chattering. "Much. But what about you?"

He shrugs, droplets sliding down his chest, following the contours of his muscles. "I run hot."

I can't help but laugh at the understatement. Everything about him is hot—the way he looks at me, the way his wet boxers cling to his thighs, the intensity in his eyes as they travel over my body.

He glances around the clearing, then starts gathering our things. "Come with me," he says, nodding toward a cluster of trees to our right. "There's a spot over there that's more private."

I follow him, the blanket dragging behind me like a cape, our wet footprints marking our path across the sun-warmed rocks.

He leads me to a small, grassy area partially hidden by a grouping of pines.

The waterfall is still visible, but we're tucked away from the main clearing, screened by trees and boulders.

Griff spreads our things out on the grass. I stand watching him, suddenly shy despite the intimacy we've already shared.

He looks up at me, a question in his eyes. "We don't have to?—"

"I want to," I say quickly, letting the blanket slip from my shoulders. The air hits my wet skin, raising goosebumps along my arms, but it's not from the cold this time.

He crosses the space between us in two strides. His hands cup my face, tilting it up to his. "You're fucking incredible, Skye. I can’t keep my hands off you," he murmurs, then kisses me.

We sink to the blanket together. His hands are everywhere—stroking my sides, cupping my breasts through the wet fabric of my bra, sliding down to grip my hips. I arch into his touch, my hands exploring the broad expanse of his back, the solid muscles of his shoulders.

"You're still cold," he says against my neck, his breath hot on my skin.

"Then warm me up," I challenge.

His eyes darken, and he reaches behind me to unclasp my bra. I lift my arms, letting him slide the wet fabric away. His gaze is hungry as it takes me in, and I can hardly wait until his mouth is on me.

"Let me see what I can do," he breathes, lowering his head to take one nipple into his mouth.

I gasp, my back arching off the blanket. His tongue swirls around the sensitive bud, teeth grazing just enough to send sparks shooting through me. One of his hands slides down my stomach to the waistband of my underwear, fingers teasing along the edge.

"These need to come off," he says, looking up at me.

I lift my hips, letting him drag the wet fabric down my legs. His eyes roam over my naked body with such open appreciation that I feel myself flush with pleasure.

"Your turn," I say, tugging at the waistband of his boxers.

He grins, that sexy dimple making an appearance, and hooks his thumbs under the elastic. In one smooth motion, he strips them off, tossing them aside.

My breath catches in my throat. He's magnificent—all hard planes and angles, his cock standing proud from a tangle of dark hair. He's thick and long, and the thought of him inside me makes me squirm.

I reach out, wrapping my fingers around his length. He hisses, his eyes closing briefly at my touch. I push him gently to lay back on the blanket.

"I've been thinking about this all day," I say.

His eyes widen slightly, and a low growl escapes him as I lower my head, taking him into my mouth. The taste of him is clean—lake water and manliness—and I swirl my tongue around the head, enjoying the way his thighs tense beneath my hands.

I take him deeper, relaxing my throat, using my hand to stroke what I can't fit in my mouth. His fingers tangle in my hair, not pushing, just holding on like he needs something to anchor him.

"Jesus, Skye," he groans, his voice strained. "Your mouth is fucking perfect."

His words send a thrill through me. Everything with Griff is different. The sounds he makes, the way his body responds to my touch, the way he watches me—it all combines to make me feel powerful, desirable, so incredibly wanted.

I hollow my cheeks, sucking harder, my hand working in rhythm with my mouth. His breathing grows ragged, his hips starting to move slightly, meeting my strokes.

"Wait," he gasps suddenly, gently pulling me off him. "I want to be inside you."

He reaches for his wallet, pulling a condom from it. I watch as he tears the packet open with his teeth, rolling it on quickly. Then he's pulling me into his lap, my thighs straddling his.

"Like this," he murmurs, hands guiding my hips.

I lower myself onto him slowly, gasping as he fills me completely. His hands grip my waist, steadying me as I adjust to his size. When he's deep inside me, we both pause, breathing each other's air.

"You feel incredible," he whispers against my lips.

I begin to move, lifting myself up and then sinking back down, establishing a rhythm that has us both groaning. His hands slide from my waist to my ass, guiding my movements, occasionally squeezing in a way that makes me gasp.

The angle is perfect, hitting all the right spots inside me. I brace my hands on his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as the pleasure builds. He watches me intently, his eyes never leaving mine, even as sweat beads on his forehead and his jaw clenches with the effort of restraint.

"Let go," he urges, one hand moving between us to find my clit. "I've got you."

His fingers circle it slowly at first and then quicker. My orgasm tears through me, so fucking intense. I cry out his name, my body clenching around his cock in rhythmic waves.

He holds me through it, murmuring encouragement, his hips still moving beneath mine. As I come down from the high, he increases his pace, his thrusts becoming more urgent. I lean down and brace myself on either side of his neck, kissing him deeply as his rhythm falters.

With a groan that seems torn from his very core, he comes, his body tensing beneath mine, his face buried in my neck. I hold him tightly, feeling the thundering of his heart against my chest.

We stay like that, neither of us willing to break the connection. Eventually, I lift my head, brushing my hair back from my face.

"Was the cold plunge worth it?" he asks, a smile tugging at his lips.

I laugh softly, leaning forward to press a kiss to that irresistible dimple. "Most definitely."

I get up and slip my clothes back on, minus the wet bra and panties.

Griff does the same and we both settle back down onto the blanket and stare up at the impossibly blue sky.

The sound of the waterfall creates a soothing backdrop to our slowing breaths.

In this moment, I feel utterly content—no thoughts of expensive car parts or cheating boyfriends or uncertain futures.

Just this man, this place, this perfect afternoon.

"We should probably head back soon," Griff says eventually, though he makes no move to get up.

"Probably," I agree, equally reluctant to end this moment.

I roll onto my side and place my head on his chest, listening to the steady thump of his heart and marveling at how comfortable this feels.

With Daniel, sex had always felt like a transaction—something to be completed efficiently before moving on to the next item on his mental agenda. This leisurely aftermath, this quiet connection, is new to me. And I find myself wanting more of it, more of him, more of everything he makes me feel.

The sun hangs low in the sky by the time we make it back to Devil's Pass.

My hair has dried in wild waves from the lake water, and Griff's is sticking up in places where he ran his fingers through it after taking his helmet off.

We probably look like two people who spent the afternoon having sex by a waterfall.

I try to smooth down my hair as we walk through the door, but I'm pretty sure there’s not much I can do with it at this point.

Vanna is wiping down tables, Loverboy napping under a table nearby. She looks up when we enter, her eyes taking in our rumpled appearance, and a knowing smile spreads across her face.

"Well, well," she says, straightening up and placing a hand on her hip. "Look what the cat dragged in."

Heat rushes to my cheeks. Griff chuckles beside me, seemingly unbothered by her teasing. "We were up at the waterfall. Gorgeous day," he says, his voice neutral, but the way his hand brushes against the small of my back feels possessive.

"I bet it was," Vanna replies, her eyes twinkling.

"Vanna," Griff warns, but there's no bite in his tone.

She laughs, holding up her hands in surrender. "Hey, I'm just saying what everyone's thinking. You two have been giving each other those looks since she got here."

"What looks?" I ask, genuinely curious.

"Like you want to devour each other," she says bluntly. "Like two hungry wolves."

Griff shakes his head, but I catch the small smile tugging at his lips. He turns to me, his expression softening. "I should head home, get cleaned up. I’m scheduled to open tomorrow."

"Okay," I say, suddenly uncertain how to say goodbye after everything we've shared today. Do I kiss him? Shake his hand? Wave awkwardly?

He solves the dilemma by leaning down and pressing a quick, firm kiss to my lips. "See you tomorrow," he murmurs.