Page 25 of My Hexed Honeymoon (The Bridgewater Pack #2)

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

I straddle Diego, his body warm and solid beneath mine, unable to breathe without taking in the scent of pine and him.

There’s a hunger in his eyes, yes—but there’s something else too. Something deeper.

Love might be too big a word, too dangerous to use this soon. But what I feel right now? It goes beyond lust. It’s belonging. It’s safety.

His hands trail up my bare thighs, slow and reverent, like he’s cataloging and savoring every inch. I rock my hips against him, feeling the delicious friction of his arousal pressing against my very center, and a low growl escapes him.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, arching against me and increasing the incredible friction. “Just like that.”

My moan fills the entire tent and I’m sure our campground, too, but I’m too turned on to care if Riven can hear us.

“You’re fucking gorgeous, you know that? Watching you ride me is the best thing I’ve seen in…It’s the best thing I’ve seen.”

Dragging myself over his intoxicating length, I lean down, letting my hair fall like a curtain around us as I kiss him. The kiss is urgent and electrifying, our mouths moving together in a heated tangle of tongues and need.

Diego cups the back of my neck, guiding me where he wants me in the most incredible of ways. His other hand cups my breast. He kneads, and then his thumb finds my nipple. He plays it—plays me. Each strum across it sends a shockwave through my core, pleasure shivering through my entire body.

I moan as I lean into his touch, mewling so he knows I want more.

He buries his head in my neck, lavishing kisses up the column as I continue to rock against him. All that’s left between us is the thin cotton of my panties and his boxer briefs, but there’s still too much fabric and space.

“I could worship you all day,” Diego rasps, dragging his mouth along my collarbone, so it would seem we’re finally on the same wavelength about something. “But right now, I need to feel you. All of you.”

“Then stop teasing and take me,” I dare him, brazen in my desire in a way I’ve never been before.

His hands slide to my hips, anchoring me to him as he rolls us so that he’s on top. He slides off my underwear and rids himself of his, tossing them aside before pinning me to the ground.

There’s nothing hurried about the way Diego sits back and appraises my body, which is as intoxicating as it is sexually frustrating.

“Patience,” he teases, so I reach out and grip his cock.

He groans, but he doesn’t get to the ravishing right away—as if proving he’s in charge, and in this instance, I don’t care, he can have it.

As long as he fucks me already.

With a wicked grin, Diego finally dips his head, but he takes his sweet time peppering kisses along my ribs, my stomach, and then at long last my thighs…

Until I’m trembling with anticipation.

“What’s wolf in Spanish?” I ask breathily.

I can tell the question takes him off-guard, his brown eyes hazed over with lust when he peers up my body at me. By the moon, that’s sexy.

“ Lobo. ”

Yeah, that sounded familiar—I probably would’ve thought of it myself if I wasn’t caught up in how skilled he is at worshiping my body. I doubted it would sound as sexy as when he called me bruja , but I decided to give it a try anyway.

“You’re driving me loco , mi lobo .” I grin, pretty proud of myself for using two whole words in Spanish, and Latin incantations—as well as Diego—had helped me considerably.

His eyes darken, the fingers at my hip tighten, and my heart skids out of control. “Say it again.”

“That you’re driving me crazy? I wouldn’t have thought?—”

Diego thrusts into me with a growl. “You know what I mean, bruja.”

I tremble slightly as I adjust to his side, shifting until I find the spot where it slides home. “Mi lobo, mi lobo, mi lobo.”

He places a palm low on my stomach, dragging the heel of it down, down, down so that it presses against my clit each time he thrusts into me.

We move together in a rhythm that’s all ours—timed to the heartbeat pounding in my ears, our breathless groans, the whispered promises he presses against my skin.

“You’re mine,” he says, his voice low and rough. “Mine to protect. Mine to fuck.” He withdraws and thrusts into me again, so deep I lose my breath. “Mine to love.”

The words undo me. I clutch at his shoulders, wrapping my legs around his waist, meeting each thrust with my own desperate need.

Until I come apart with his name on my lips, pleasure unraveling me like a runaway spool.

I watch as my wolf moves over me, feeling a surge of feminine power at watching a man with such tremendous strength bend to my will.

With a groan he follows me over the edge, his body shuddering above mine.

I cling tighter to him as he rides out the wave, anchoring us both like he usually anchors me.

We lie there catching our breath, the morning light filtering through the tent, the world hushed and still.

And for the first time in what feels like forever, I let myself believe in the possibility of a future—of hope.

Of love.