Page 5

THREE

AUDREY

Reign lifts me like I weigh nothing, carrying me across the room with arms that feel like steel. My legs are still shaking from what just happened against the wall, but already I want more.

I want everything this mountain man can give me.

The bed is enormous, covered in crisp white sheets that look expensive. He sets me down gently, his hands lingering on my waist as I find my footing. The contrast between his careful tenderness and the raw hunger in his eyes makes my stomach flip.

Part of me knows I should feel guilty. Tomorrow, I’m flying back to Cooper Heights.

Tomorrow, I’m officially getting engaged to Gio.

Tomorrow, my life as I know it ends. But right now, with Reign’s hands on me and his eyes drinking me in like I’m the most precious thing he’s ever seen, I can’t bring myself to care about tomorrow.

“Lie back,” he commands softly. “I want to taste you.”

I do as he says, and he spreads my legs, lowering himself between my thighs. The first touch of his tongue makes me cry out, my back arching off the bed.

“Fuck, you taste incredible,” he groans against me. “So sweet.”

He works me with his mouth like a man starved, his tongue doing things that make me see stars. When I thread my fingers through his hair and pull, he makes a sound of pure male satisfaction that vibrates through me.

“That’s it, baby,” he murmurs between strokes of his tongue. “Show me what you like. Pull my hair. Use me.”

The words combined with what he’s doing with his mouth push me over the edge embarrassingly fast. I come with a broken cry, my body shaking as waves of pleasure crash over me.

He doesn’t stop. Doesn’t give me time to recover. Instead, he tears off the rest of his clothes and reaches for another condom. His hands shake slightly as he rolls it on, and something about that small sign of how much he wants me makes my chest tight.

He crawls over me, his massive frame covering mine completely. When he settles between my legs, I can feel how hard he is against my entrance.

He pushes into me slowly, never breaking eye contact. The intensity of his gaze combined with the stretch and burn of him filling me is almost too much. I’ve never felt so exposed, so seen.

“Look at me,” he says when my eyes start to flutter closed. “I want to see everything. Every expression, every moment you feel good.”

He starts to move with deep and purposeful thrusts. One hand tangles in my hair while the other holds me exactly where he wants me. His eyes never leave mine.

“Goddamn, you feel good, Princess,” he groans as his pace increases. “Like you were made for me. Like you were made to take my cock.”

The dirty words combined with the tender way he’s looking at me create a contradiction that makes my head spin. He’s claiming me with his body while worshipping me with his eyes.

“Reign,” I gasp, my nails digging into his shoulders.

“That’s it, say my name,” he demands. His hips snap against mine even harder now. “Let me hear how good I’m making you feel.”

“So good,” I manage between moans. “You make me feel so good.”

His rhythm becomes more desperate, more urgent. Sweat beads on his forehead, his muscles straining as he drives into me. But still, his eyes stay locked on mine.

“Come for me, Princess.” He slides one hand between us to circle my clit. “Come all over my cock like a good girl.”

The combination of his fingers and his words and those intense eyes staring into mine pushes me over the edge. I shatter beneath him, my body clenching around him as pleasure overwhelms every sense.

He follows me over, his own release hitting him hard. His eyes finally close as he buries his face in my neck, his body shuddering against mine.

We stay like that for long moments, our bodies still connected. When he finally lifts his head to look at me again, there’s something soft in his expression that makes my chest ache.

He pulls out carefully and disposes of the condom, then comes back to gather me in his arms.

I should probably get up, get dressed, go back to my own room. But when he pulls me against his chest, I find I don’t want to move.

I can’t help the little giggle that escapes me. “You’re really good at this.”

“Good at what?” he asks, his voice lazy with satisfaction.

“Making me come.”

A wicked grin spreads across his face. Before I can blink, he’s rolling on top of me again, his weight pressing me into the mattress.

“Just say the word,” he murmurs. His voice is a low rumble that makes me shiver. “And I’ll make you come all night long.”

He leans down, his mouth hovering just above mine, and I can feel his breath against my lips. But just as he’s about to kiss me, my stomach lets out the loudest, most mortifying growl I’ve ever heard in my life.

My face burns with embarrassment. “Oh my gosh.” I groan. “I am so sorry.”

Reign throws his head back and laughs.

“Don’t be sorry, sweetheart,” he says, chuckling as he brushes a strand of hair from my face. “When’s the last time you ate?”

I think about it, realizing I’ve been too nervous about tonight to eat much today. “This morning, I think? Maybe some toast.”

He shakes his head. Then he rolls off me and reaches for the hotel phone on the nightstand. “We’re ordering room service. Can’t have you passing out on me.”

“Are you sure? You don’t have to.”

“Of course, I’m sure.” He’s already dialing, the phone pressed to his ear. “Besides, I plan to keep you busy for a while. You’ll need your strength.”

The promise in his voice makes my stomach flutter for entirely different reasons.

“Room service?” he says into the phone. “Yeah, I’d like to place an order for room 3247.”

I watch him as he talks, admiring the way his muscles shift under his skin, the confident way he handles everything. He orders without even asking what I want. He gets a selection of appetizers, sandwiches, fruit, chocolate-covered strawberries.

“Thirty minutes,” he says after hanging up. “Think you can wait that long?”

“I’ll survive,” I say with a smile.

To my surprise, he settles back against the headboard and pulls me into his arms. I curl against his chest, my head on his shoulder, feeling oddly content.

This isn’t what I expected from a one-night stand. The cuddling, the care, the way he’s looking at me like I’m something precious.

“So,” he says, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on my bare shoulder. “Art history. Tell me more about that.”

“You really want to know?” Most people’s eyes glaze over when I talk about my degree.

“I really want to know.” His voice is sincere. “What got you into it?”

I settle more comfortably against him. “My grandmother, actually. She had this incredible collection of paintings. Nothing famous, just pieces she loved. When I was little, she’d tell me stories about each one.

She’d tell me who painted it, why they chose those colors, what was happening in the world when they created it. ”

“Sounds like she was special.”

“She was.” A familiar ache settles in my chest. “She died when I was sixteen. Left me all her books about art, said I was the only one who understood why beauty mattered.”

His arms tighten around me slightly. “She was right.”

“About what?”

“Beauty mattering. And you understanding it.” He tilts my chin up so I’m looking at him. “You see things differently. I could tell from the first moment I saw you.”

The intensity in his eyes makes my breath catch. “What do you mean?”

“The way you were watching my friends at the bar earlier. You weren’t judging them like everyone else. You were seeing their story.”

I remember now, the way those strangers had been so cruel about the age gap, making assumptions. “People are so quick to judge what they don’t understand.”

“Exactly.” He strokes my hair, the gesture surprisingly tender. “Most people see what they expect to see, not what’s actually there.”

“And what do you see when you look at me?” I ask, the question slipping out before I can stop it.

His eyes darken, his thumb brushing across my bottom lip. “A woman who’s never been seen for who she really is. Someone hiding behind what everyone expects her to be.”

The accuracy of his observation steals my breath. “You got all that from watching me for five minutes?”

“Sometimes that’s all it takes.” His hand slides down to rest over my heart. “Plus, you’ve got that look.”

“What look?”

“Like you’re drowning and pretending you know how to swim.”

A laugh escapes me, but it sounds hollow even to my own ears. “That’s disturbingly accurate.”

“Want to tell me about it?”

I shake my head, not trusting myself to speak about tomorrow, about the life waiting for me. Instead, I trace patterns on his chest, following the line of dark hair downward.

"Tell me about how you live. What's your life like?"

His expression shifts, becoming almost wistful. "I live in a cabin up in the mountains. Built it myself over the course of a few summers."

I prop myself up on my elbow, studying his face. "A cabin?"

"It’s got a killer view,” he continues, his fingers finding my shoulder. "I put in a wrap-around porch that looks out over the valley. There's something about being up there, away from everything. No cell service, no internet. Just you and the silence."

"Solar panels?" I guess, picturing him as the self-sufficient type.

"Yeah." He grins. "How'd you know?"

"You strike me as someone who'd want to be completely independent. Probably have a backup generator too."

"Guilty." His touch resumes its lazy stroking. "Most people think I'm crazy, living like that."

“Sounds nice.”

“Used to think so, too. But lately...” He trails off, his eyes studying my face. “Lately I’ve been thinking it might be nice to share it with someone.”

My heart does something funny in my chest. “Someone who appreciates the silence?”

“Someone who understands why it matters.”

The way he’s looking at me makes it hard to breathe. Like he’s seeing straight through to my soul. “You really are a mountain man, aren’t you?”

“What gave it away?” he asks with a smirk.