Page 7 of Wild River (Rugged Loners #2)

Six

Jake

H oly hell, I did not see this coming when I woke up this morning. When I threw on a shirt and shoved my feet in my boots, when I set off for the river with a fishing rod and a cooler of beers, how could I possibly have known that this is where I’d wind up?

With a fucking angel in my arms, squirming shamelessly against my front, begging breathlessly for my touch. Becca put my hand on her taut belly, and now she’s tugging on my wrist, trying to coax me lower.

God damn.

I shouldn’t do this.

I shouldn’t.

Not when she’s had such an intense day already. What if she regrets it tomorrow?

But when my fingertips meet the soft, trimmed hair between her legs, I’m not strong enough to resist. Becca deserves better, she deserves a gentleman who’d keep his hands off her, but the second my middle finger parts her folds and finds her slick and wanting… it’s over for me. Call it.

“Becca.”

My chest heaves for air, and my skin burns hot beneath my clothes. She mewls and yanks harder on my wrist, trying to get me down there properly. Trying to rock against the one finger I’ve slid down there already.

Holy shit. We’ve barely started, and my ears are ringing.

“Becca,” I say again, rubbing my face on the side of her head. Christ, I can’t get enough of her. Want to feel every inch of her silken skin; want to bathe in her scent and lick her all over.

Want to eat this girl alive.

“Come on.” She yanks on my wrist, breathless now. “Come on, come on. Please .”

Well, how can I say no to that?

Heart drumming, I slide my hand all the way down to cup her bare pussy, groaning at the damp heat against my palm. The angle is kinda awkward on my wrist, and we’re both jammed against the counter’s edge, but I don’t care.

I’m not stopping now.

Not backing off unless Becca tells me to.

“Feel that,” I mutter, squeezing her pussy gently. Becca whimpers and rocks against my hand, trying for more friction. Soon . I’ll give it to her soon. “Feel how hot and slick and swollen you are, baby. You need this, don’t you?”

Becca nods jerkily, her red hair getting caught in my beard. Good. That’s what I want: the two of us tangled up together. Completely inseparable.

“Uh-huh. I need it.”

“Right. Who’s the guy you were gonna marry this morning?”

My hold on her is firm. Possessive.

Becca makes a small sound. “Tristan Peters.”

Blood roars in my ears for a second, jealousy crashing over me in a wave, then I’m breathing through it and mouthing at Becca’s neck.

Kissing her warm skin greedily, because it’s me here with her right now, my hand between her legs, not some cold, rich prick who wouldn’t even know how lucky he was.

Christ, just thinking about that wedding dress makes my mouth taste like metal.

“He wouldn’t have done this right, Becca.

” The image of them together, of some faceless other man getting his hands all over my girl, makes my gut clench and my hands shake.

Face buried against her throat, I keep muttering between kisses, letting it all out.

“He wouldn’t have realized how good he had it. That he’d won the fucking lottery.”

My thumb slips between her folds, searching for the sensitive little nub of her clit. When I find it, Becca gasps and jerks in my arms, clinging on to my forearm for balance. Lemon-scented dish bubbles pop quietly in the sink.

“Tristan fucking Peters wouldn’t worship the ground you walk on. And that would be a crying shame.”

She’s hot down here too. So wet and slick and needy, chasing my thumb for more friction, moaning with pleasure every time I squeeze her pussy in my grip.

Should stop being such a cave man about this, so base and possessive, but I can’t help it.

My instincts are riding me hard right now, and they’re all screaming that Becca is mine.

“Say you don’t want him.”

Becca’s laugh is strangled. “You know that I don’t. That’s why I ran away.”

I know, I know, but I still need to hear it. Just hearing those words in Becca’s soft voice, getting that confirmation out loud, soothes my ragged heartbeat.

But it’s not enough. I need more.

My middle finger slides along her slit, skating easily through the slickness there. When I find Becca’s tight hole, I pause there, fingertip pressed lightly against the entrance. Both of us quiver, our breaths shaky in the quiet cabin.

“Say that you want me instead.”

Becca huffs out a weak laugh again, still clinging to my arm. “Duh.”

“ Say it, Becca.”

I’ve never been hungrier to hear a few simple words. Never been so jealous that I can barely think straight. My whole body is taught and overheated, every muscle tensed and shuddering, and if she doesn’t allow me this, if she doesn’t have mercy on me, I’m gonna burst a blood vessel.

Because I know that it was an arranged wedding, and Becca ran away.

I know she didn’t want that guy.

I know this is real, and that was not.

But I keep replaying that moment when I tore her wedding dress open, and if I could, I’d rip it off her a dozen more times. I’d tear that goddamn dress into confetti.

Becca turns her head and nips at my jaw. “If this is an ego thing—”

“It’s not.”

Can’t she see? This isn’t about stroking my ego and making me feel like the bigger man. This is about keeping me sane.

“Well then yeah, obviously I want you, Jake. I’ve wanted you all day. I’ve been going crazy with it.”

Becca says it so casually, like it’s no big deal, but behind her my heart flips over in my chest. My whole body flashes hotter, and my finger trembles as it nudges an inch past her entrance. She’s so slick and tight that I hiss between clenched teeth.

“Good,” I grit out. “That’s good.”

And then we sink into the moment, with no more desperate words, no more jagged thoughts.

No more mention of Tristan Peters and the fact that he came so close to claiming her instead.

There’s just my thick finger, pressing inside Becca’s tight body, and her quiet whimpers of pleasure, and the two of us standing tangled up together beside the counter.

She rocks against my hand, and I stroke her steadily with one finger at first, then two, murmuring all the while at how good she feels. How perfect. How right.

It’s pretty clear from the get-go that Becca hasn’t done this before, because she’s so tight that her channel grips my fingers in a choke hold, and the shocked sounds she makes says that this is all new to her. Call me a brute, but that helps soothe me too.

Knowing that no others have touched her.

No one else has gotten this close, no one’s fucked it up and treated her wrong.

I’m the first Becca’s trusted with this, and that’s an honor I can barely wrap my head around.

When it starts to overwhelm me, I lean down and kiss her neck again, letting my teeth scrape gently against her skin.

“Oh. Oh, god.” Becca’s fingertips are white where she clings to my forearm, and she’s rolling her hips properly now, fucking herself on my hand. “This is—oh my god. Jake .”

Yeah.

Hell yeah.

Want to hear her say my name like that again, another thousand times. Breathless and needy and so sweet.

“That’s it, baby. Hump my fingers. Feels good, right? Just wait until I get my cock inside you, Becca. Just wait until I get my mouth down there. Gonna get you addicted to me. Gonna lick you until you scream.”

She lets out a little wail, still riding my hand, and yeah, my wrist throbs from the angle now, but I won’t stop. Not for anything.

Not until she falls apart like I know she can.

“Come on.” My teeth graze her throat again, a little harder this time. Christ, I want to eat her alive. “Come on, baby. Show me how pretty you are when you come. Let me hear it. Let me feel it.”

Becca cries out, a shudder rolling through her whole body. Her channel clamps down impossibly tight on my fingers, and a new wave of slickness coats my palm. She twists and squirms, her breath held as she comes and comes and comes.

Atta girl.

Chest soaring with triumph, I wait until she collapses against my front, then pull my fingers out and lick ‘em clean, right over her shoulder. Right where she can see the hunger etched on my face.

Becca’s eyes are wide, watching me. Yeah, I guess this has been an intense few minutes.

And I should lay off, should dial it back, should be less primal about this, especially after the day she’s had. Especially since this is clearly Becca’s first time. Even knowing that, it takes every ounce of my will power to clear my throat and step back.

Cool air washes over my front, and all I want in the world is to step close and have Becca crushed against me again. But that’s too much. Need to give the poor girl some breathing room.

“Thanks,” I mutter, like an idiot. “That was… yeah.”

The most world-shattering thing I’ve ever experienced. No big deal.

But Becca gives a shaky nod, and turns back to the sink. After a long pause, she turns the faucet on again, topping up the hot water. Guess we’re back to doing dishes. Like nothing ever happened.

“No problem,” Becca says, all high and scratchy. “I’ll just finish these up.”

Out of view behind her, I dig the heel of my left palm into my eye.