I let my eyes trail up and down his naked body. “Back at you.”
“Do you know how hard it’s been to keep my hands off of you?” His hands sweep up to cup my breasts; his thumbs brush lightly over my already-puckered nipples.
I’m damp and hot and squirming beneath his touch. “You can touch me now. You can do anything you want to me now.”
His eyes catch mine as he leans in and places a tender kiss at the corner of my mouth. “I’m going to take this slow, baby.”
“We could do it fast first and then go slow the second round,” I suggest, eager to have him inside me.
“I need to take my time, to show you how much I love you. I couldn’t do it before.”
I take his face in my hands. “I felt it then, Ty. I knew.”
“I should have said it.”
I shake my head and kiss him chastely. “I knew,” I repeat softly.
He lifts me into his arms and lays me in the center of the bed, then covers me with his warm, hard body. I trace the lines of ink in his skin with my fingertip and watch his eyes as he pushes my hair off my face and nuzzles my nose with his own.
“I’m a little nervous,” he admits.
“To make love to me?”
“I don’t want to hurt you.” He frowns.
“You’ll never hurt me. It’s hurt to not be able to be with you like this.”
He exhales and rests his forehead against my own, his pelvis resting in the cradle of my thighs. His hardness is pressed against my core, and I slowly circle my hips, inviting him in.
“If I hurt you, just say the word, and it’ll all stop.”
“Don’t you dare stop, Tyler Sullivan.”
His lips twitch as he pulls back and guides his dick to my entrance and then slowly, oh so slowly, embeds himself inside me to the hilt, then stops, panting, muscles strained. “Okay?”
“So, so okay.” I rotate my hips. “I need you to move, babe.”
“Not yet. I want to just feel you.”
He cradles my head in his palms and finally kisses me. His tongue licks across the seam of my lips, then sinks inside my mouth, dancing and exploring. My hands glide lazily up and down his back, over his shoulders and into his thick, raven hair, holding him to me.
He finally begins to move, slowly and gently, all the way out until just the head is buried in my folds, then pushing back in, repeating the motion over and over.
“I’m not gonna break,” I whisper.
“It’s not about that.” He shakes his head and buries his face in my neck.
“What is it?” I hug him to me as his hips move slowly.
“It’s about reconnecting with you, my love. God, I missed you so much.”
I feel tears prick my eyes at his words, at the tender way his body is making love to mine. He feels amazing.
“You’re amazing,” he mumbles, mirroring my thoughts.
I clench around him, my legs hitched around his hips, my arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders, and my pussy clamped around his dick.
Our bodies couldn’t get closer together.
He rolls gently onto his back, taking me with him so I’m straddling him.
“Ride me, sweetness.”
I brace myself on his shoulders as I rise and lower myself on him.
“Do your ribs hurt?”
“Not even a little.” I grin as I increase the tempo. “This is so fucking good.”
He sits up with a growl, grips my hips in his hands, and guides me up and down, increasing the speed even further.
My back tingles where his fingers caress me, up and down my spine over my ink.
“You like my tattoo.” I grin against his lips.
“I fucking love your tattoo.” He kisses me long and hard.
Finally, I can’t stand it any more and I begin riding him in earnest, relishing the friction, hitting his pubic bone against my clit with every thrust. “Oh, fuck, babe, I’m gonna come.”
“Come, sweetness.” He’s lifting and lowering me now, his hands gripped firmly on my hips.
He’s going to leave fingerprints on me, and I love it. He’s doing all the work.
He’s so damn strong.
I grip on to his hair as I bear down and convulse around him, coming hard and long over him. “Oh my God!”
“That’s it, baby, let go.” He nibbles my neck, down to my nipples, where he grips one in his teeth and tugs hard, sending more sparks down to my core.
As I come down from my orgasm, he lies back on the bed, panting, eyes on fire, and watches as I begin to move again, my breasts swaying with the motion of my riding him hard, gripping him. I lean back and also cup his scrotum in my hand. His eyes cross and then roll back in his head as I feel his balls lift and tighten. He bucks his hips and cries out as he comes inside me, grinding against me, riding the long wave of his climax.
He’s sweaty and panting as I press a kiss to his neck and lay my head on his chest.
“That was fun,” I comment lightly.
“That was life affirming.” He chuckles. “I hope you’re not too sore because I plan to stay inside you for the majority of the night.”
“I’m good with that plan.” I bite his neck gently, then lick it before pressing an openmouthed kiss on the tender skin.
“Keep that up and I’ll pull you under me and begin round two right now.” His voice is light, but rough with renewed lust.
“Easy, tiger. I’m hungry.”
“I’ll call for takeout.”
“No need.” I lift off him and pull the shirt he wore all day over my shoulders, leaving it unbuttoned. “I have dinner in the oven.”
“You do?” He raises an eyebrow in surprise.
“I can cook.”
“You can?”
“Just because I don’t often, doesn’t mean I can’t,” I inform him haughtily.
“What else can you do?” He rises from the bed and pulls his shorts on.
“Lots of things.”
“Name two.”
“I can play the piano.”
“Holy shit, I had no idea.” He’s watching me with a half smile and appreciative eyes. “And the other?”
“I can make you hard with one touch,” I respond playfully, and cup his semihard dick through his underwear.
“Oh, sweetness, that was never a secret.”
Epilogue
ONE MONTH LATER
“Can I interrupt for a bit?” Ty asks as he saunters into my office.
I’ve been working all morning. I push back from the desk and grin at him as I stretch. Sir Fuzz is curled up in my lap and yawns, stretching his paws out before him at the intrusion, then curls up and falls back to sleep, making us laugh.
“Fuzz won’t be pleased, but I could use a break.” I lift the growing kitten from my lap and lay him on my warm, vacated seat.
After the incident with Jack, Ty had my whole office redecorated. The furniture is new and arranged differently from before. Even the carpet and wall paint are new. The book covers have been repaired and are hanging on the wall again.
This office is brand-new, so I don’t have any bad memories here.
He thinks of everything.
“What’s up?” I cross to him and twine my arms around his neck, leaning in for a kiss.
“How do you feel about taking a walk? Getting some fresh air?”
I glance out the window and frown. “It’s raining.”
“I have an umbrella.” Something in his eyes looks uncertain.
“Are you okay?” I kiss him softly.
“I’m great. I’d just like to take you for a walk.”
“Okay, I’m game.”
He grins and pulls me out of the office, then bundles us both into coats and scarves, grabs a big, red umbrella, and leads me outside.
“It’s so weird that all the snow melted off.” I shuffle down the steps of the porch and wait for him to open the umbrella.
He holds it over us, grasps my hand with his free one, and gu
ides me down the driveway to the path that leads to the bridge. “It’s been an odd fall, that’s for sure. When winter does finally set in, I’m afraid it’s going to be a doozy.”
“Doozy?” I tease him. “Who says doozy?”
“Okay, it’s going to be a bitch.” He laughs and kisses my forehead.
“As long as we have snow for Christmas, I’ll be happy.”
“I’m pretty sure you have nothing to worry about.”
We slosh through the rain on the paved trail to the bridge. It smells like wet leaves and winter. Despite its not being cold enough to snow, my cheeks are cold and we can see our breath in the cool air.
“It could snow tonight, if the temp drops,” I mention casually.
“Mmm.” I glance up at him, and he’s watching the path ahead, his eyes far away. I wonder what he’s thinking, but rather than intrude, I fall quiet and enjoy the walk.
We finally get to the top of the bridge, my favorite spot, and we stop to lean on the stone railing, watching the water below, the mountain ahead. The world is silent around us, aside from the rushing of the water.
It’s tranquil. Peaceful.
Perfect.
“I love this place.” I take a deep breath.
“I know.” He grins. He pulls me into his arms, hugging me in that special way he does, rocking us back and forth, still managing to hang on to the umbrella. “I have something to say, sweetness.”
“Okay,” I mumble against his chest, comfortable in his embrace. “Shoot.”
He pulls back so he can see my face, tucks a strand of hair that has escaped my hat behind my ear. “I love being your friend, Lo. Having you in my life and choosing to be your friend is the best thing I ever did. But falling in love with you has been effortless.”
I swallow hard as I watch him watch me, his mind moving a thousand miles a second.
He cups my face in his hands. “You have the best heart of anyone I’ve ever met in my life. You’re kind. You make me laugh when I’ve had the worst day, and your voice makes me want to listen to you for hours. You’re so fucking smart, Lo. What you’ve done with your writing makes me so proud, you inspire me to dream with my eyes wide-open.”
He clears his throat, his eyes fall to my lips as I lick them, then he finds my gaze again. “Your touch brings me to my knees, and I know that I’ll never, ever get enough of you.”
He drags his knuckles down my cheek as he gazes down at me with so much love in his eyes, my breath catches and I can just watch him, struck dumb.
“Being in love with someone is an unconditional commitment. To love someone isn’t just a feeling, it’s a decision that you make every day, no matter what happens. It’s a judgment. A promise.”
He backs away, lays the umbrella on the ground, and falls to one knee, taking my hand in his.
“That being said, I’m asking you here, in this place that means so much to you, to marry me. Be my wife. My partner. I love you, Lauren, today and every day for the rest of my life.”
He reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out folded papers and a black box, flips it open, and holds them up to me. “This is a prenup. I don’t want anything but you, sweetness. Be mine, always.”
Tears fill my eyes as I fall to my knees before him. I take the papers from his grasp, and rather than read them, I keep his gaze locked on my own as I tear them apart and toss them into the water below.
“My heart isn’t just mine, you know. It belongs to you too. It always will, Ty. I don’t need a prenup. I trust you with all of me. Of course I’ll marry you.”
He smiles down at me as he places the gorgeous, round diamond solitaire on my finger, then scoops me up into his arms, rising effortlessly to his feet and spinning in a circle, kissing me firmly.
“I love you so much, sweetness.”
“I love you too.”
He nuzzles my nose as he sets me on my feet. “It’s a good thing you said yes. Jilly’s already put my house on the market.”
“Pretty sure of yourself, weren’t you?”
“Hopeful, my love.” He picks up the umbrella, tucks my hand in his, and pulls me to his side, guiding me back toward home. “Very hopeful.”
It’s Jillian’s turn for Love Under the Big Sky!
Turn the page for a sneak peek at
New York Times bestselling Kristen Proby’s latest in the Love Under the Big Sky series
FALLING FOR JILLIAN
Available February 2015
from Pocket Books!
JILLIAN
What is it about master bathrooms that make people hem and haw? I glance down at my watch and offer the couple from Ontario a wide smile as they browse through the multimillion-dollar home near the ski resort on Whitetail Mountain. In all my years in real estate, it’s always been the master bathroom and closet that people get hung up on.
You’d think it would be the kitchen, and sometimes it is, but invariably, they want to take a second or even third look at the master suite.
“This home is beautiful,” Mrs. Langton says with a smile. “I love it. What do you think?”
Her husband smiles and nuzzles his wife’s ear with his nose, making my stomach turn. “You know I’ll buy you any house you want, my love.”
She laughs and takes another look around the great room as we descend the staircase, our footfalls echoing through the empty space.
“Out of all of the homes we’ve seen, this is my favorite. The view is fantastic. And we’re just down the road from the resort.”
I glance out the wide picture windows that overlook Whitetail Lake below and wince. The snow is coming down harder than it was this morning, so getting off this mountain in my little Honda sedan isn’t going to be easy.
“Does that mean you’ve finally decided?” Mr. Langton asks his wife.
“I think so.” She claps her hands and bounces on the balls of her feet. “We’d like to make an offer on this house, Jillian.”
“Fantastic,” I reply and shake their hands. “I’ll get the paperwork ready this evening and we can meet at my office tomorrow.”
“The weather sure has decided to get nasty,” Mrs. Langton comments as we make our way outside and I lock the door to the mansion behind us.
“They’re calling for a storm,” I reply. “We had a mild fall, but it looks like winter is going to be a doozy.” I glance longingly at the sturdy 4x4 rental that the Langtons are about to climb into.
I really need to replace my car.
“I’ll be in touch tomorrow.” I wave them off as they pull out of the circular driveway and head up the mountain toward the cabin they’ve been renting at the resort.
And now I get to make my way down this mountain in my two-wheel-drive Honda with no studded snow tires.
Fantastic.
I wasn’t exaggerating when I told the Langtons that we’d had a mild fall. Until about two weeks ago, we hadn’t had any snow that stuck around for more than a day or two, and that’s unusual for early December.
I’ll bet it’s seventy and sunny in LA right now.
I sigh and resign myself to struggling down the narrow road to the bottom of the mountain.
I adore my hometown of Cunningham Falls, Montana. I grew up here, along with my parents and their parents before them. It’s a town that welcomes the tourists that flock in by the thousands during both the ski and summer seasons to explore the wilds of Montana. But despite the many newcomers each season, the locals pretty much all know each other, whether we like it or not.
And there have been many times over the years that I’d rather they not.
I bite my lip and turn left out of the driveway, taking it slow. The snow is coming down so hard, it’s like a thick blanket draped all around my car, making it hard to see the road before me or the steep drop-off to my right.
If not for the dark trees, I’d be screwed.
I inch my way carefully down the hill, around two switchbacks, and breathe a huge sigh of relief when I safely come out at the bottom and,
through the large snowflakes, see the stoplight marking the main road.
Just as I come to a stop at the light, I hear screeching tires and the unmistakable sound of rubber sliding on ice just before a Mercedes SUV comes to a stop against my rear fender.
Perfect.
I open my door and step out just as the driver of the Mercedes does too, and we survey the damage.
“Well, it could be a lot worse,” I mutter.
“I’m sorry,” the tall stranger says, kneeling by the wreckage. “I guess I took that corner too fast.”
“I guess so,” I agree with a nod. “You barely touched me, though.”
“Looks like you have a bit of a dent there,” he replies and stands, then grins down at me. “Jillian Sullivan! You haven’t changed a bit in all these years.”
I feel my eyes widen and I cover my mouth with mitten-encased hands, then laugh and throw my arms around the tall, broad man who slammed into my car.
“Max Hull!”
He hugs me tight and then pulls away, offering me a wide grin. His blond hair is short and styled conservatively. His green eyes are happy, if somewhat guarded, and he seems to be distracted.
God, the Hull brothers are hot.
“Are you here visiting Brad and Jenna?” Brad Hull is a cop here in Cunningham Falls, and Jenna runs a beautiful bed and breakfast called The Hideaway on Whitetail Mountain. I grew up with all three of the Hull siblings.
“I am.” He nods, frowns, and then adds, “Thinking about moving home.”
“Really? Is this good news?” I ask and then laugh, looking up into the snow that continues to fall around us. “Now that I think about it, maybe we should catch up when we aren’t standing in a blizzard.”
“Good plan.” He grins and kisses my cold cheek chastely, and I pray with all my heart that I feel a tingle of awareness, but there is nothing.
Damn.
“Let’s exchange numbers so I can at least have your car fixed.” Max pulls his phone out of his denim pocket and begins typing away on the screen. I rattle off my number, then grin when I see a text come through from him and save his number to my contacts.
“My brother can probably just knock the dent out with a hammer, Max, but thanks. I’m more worried about your expensive Mercedes.”