Cherise Sinclair - Master of the Mountain

Hypocrite . Then again, her relationship with Matt probably wouldn't survive this weekend, she realized with an aching pain. Nonetheless, getting out of this bed would be a clever idea. Ever so carefully, she moved Logan's hand and started to inch out from under his arm.

“I'm awake, sugar, so all those maneuvers aren't necessary.” His hand slid back to take possession of her breast again, this time easing under her bra to her bare skin. At the rough caress of his fingers, her nipple bunched up, and a spike of arousal shot straight to her core.

“Well, now,” he murmured, his thumb circling her nipple.

“Listen, I don't want-”

“No, your problem is that you do want.” He rolled over, and his weight flattened her into the bed. And oh , he felt incredibly good. She could feel her panties turn damp. Nudging her legs apart, he settled his hips between her thighs.

“Logan,” she whispered, “no.” She pushed against a chest as solid as a boulder, and as unmovable.

“Becca, yes. You owe me a good-morning kiss at least.” He added in a mock-serious voice, “I saved your life, you know. You could well have died out there.”

The faint light from another room played over his beard-shadowed jaw. Lines radiated out from the corners of his eyes, crinkling as she stared up at him. His erection pressed against the juncture of her legs, the only barrier her thin panties. When her hands splayed against his chest, the crisp hair couldn't disguise the rock-hard muscles beneath.

As before, coming up against his massive body, she felt feminine and soft and very tempted. “A kiss? No more.”

“It's a start.” He dipped his head to the curve where her neck met her shoulder. The arousing contrast of his velvety lips and the scratch of his morning beard wakened a flutter deep in her belly.

Her hands clutched his wide shoulders, and she didn't know whether to pull him closer or push him away. She shouldn't do this.

He solved the question by moving to her mouth, rumbling a laugh when she kept it closed. A sharp nip on her lower lip made her gasp, and his tongue plunged within. His kiss was skilled, experienced…and overwhelming.

The demanding thrust of his tongue made her think of other places he could be thrusting. Each time he moved, his cock bumped against her pussy, each touch like a spark of sensation. Her fingers tightened on his shoulders as she tried to find her eroding balance.

His hand stroked her breast, his palm so big he could hold her fully. When he sucked her tongue into his mouth, an ache of need burned through her body. Slow, thorough, he kissed her forever, and by the time he raised his head, her fingers were buried in his thick hair.

Propping himself on an elbow, he fondled her breast. “When you took your shirt off yesterday, I had trouble keeping my hands off,” he murmured. His fingers circled her nipple and then rolled the peak. His eyes on her face, he increased the pressure until sparks shot down to her sex, and her lower half went liquid. The gentle stroke of his thumb eased the throbbing, and then he moved to her other breast.

Oh God, he knew exactly what he was doing, painting her like a canvas, each stroke deepening the intensity. “Logan,” she whispered, shivering as unfamiliar sensations rushed through her.

His hand stilled, pressing against her breast and holding her still as he studied her. “Too much?” he asked softly.

“I don't…” God, her body was flaming out of control, and she wanted his hands all over her. Wanted him inside her with an intensity she hadn't felt before.

No . She didn't have sex with strangers. She pulled in a breath, and the scent of him made her head spin.

“It's all right, Becca.” His next kiss was softer, less demanding, his hand on her breast gentled. Her body edged back into her control as the need died back to a simmer. A relief, but a tad disappointing. Her breathing slowed.

Leaning back, he regarded her with steel blue eyes. After a second, the intense gaze made her feel vulnerable. She started to sit up.

His hand between her breasts flattened her like a pancake, sending her pulse spiking. A thrill of excitement rippled through her body, and his eyes narrowed. “Not as vanilla as you look, are you?” His hand didn't let up, keeping her pressed into the mattress.

Her voice came out shaky. “What do you mean?”

His slow grin made her pulse stutter. Still between her legs, he grasped her hands and raised her arms over her head. Clasping her wrists with one big hand, he anchored them above the pillow.

“Hey.” She struggled, and his grip tightened. Arms stretched above her head, his weight on her hips… She couldn't move. Fear swirled through her, accompanied by a startling wave of heat. “Let me go.” Her voice came out husky.

“You want me to?” With his free hand, he shoved her bra up, and the elastic band caught on the rigid peaks of her nipples. He ran his finger around one puckered areola, then the other, and somehow they tightened even further. Her breath caught as pleasure rushed through her.

His fingers played with her breasts as his blue eyes focused on her face. “Just look at you,” he murmured. “All confused and excited.” His voice deepened. “You know, little rebel, with your hands restrained, I can do anything I want to you.”

Instinctively, she struggled. She got nowhere; his grip was unyielding, his strength immense. And each useless try shot another current of excitement through her, until her pussy ached with need. Panting, she stared up into his intense gaze.

He chuckled, then pushed her breast upward so he could take it in his mouth. Hot. Wet.

She moaned. The sound shocked her. What was she doing? She didn't even know him.

When she strained against his grip on her hands, he bit down carefully on her nipple. The sharp pain sizzled straight to her clit, hitting with a shock that made her clench inside. Oh God. She was drowning in sensation. In heat.

He licked the distended peak, his tongue hot; his breath cooled her skin, and then he bit again. Her back arched uncontrollably, pushing her breasts upward.

“Very nice, little rebel,” he murmured, switching to the other breast until both were swollen, her nipples tight and aching. When he sat back on his knees, she managed to breathe again. At least until she saw his gaze move down her body. Thank God the light was dim, but unfortunately not nearly enough to hide the size of her hips. Why did he have to see-

“I'm going to owe you a pair of briefs,” he said, breaking into her thoughts. Taking hold of her panties, he ripped one side, then the other, and tossed the destroyed fabric onto the floor.

“Hey!” she said indignantly, despite the thrill coursing through her at his action. Then she realized…if his hands were there, her arms weren't pinned any longer. She yanked her arms down and tried to sit up. He put a hand in the middle of her chest and pushed her back down. With a quick one-two movement, he snatched her wrists, clamping them in one hand again, resting them on her stomach.

He studied her for a moment, his free hand caressing one breast. “You're not ready for me to take you,” he murmured. “But we'll go a bit further down this path.”

Keeping her hands anchored to her stomach, he edged downward between her thighs. When he leaned sideways, he trapped her left leg under his waist. He propped himself up on his right elbow, using the same hand to restrain her wrists. With his knee, he pushed her right leg out.

“What are you doing?” She squirmed, all too aware of how he'd wedged her legs open. Her underwear was gone, her pussy unshielded.

“I'm pleasing myself, sugar. I like seeing a woman open and vulnerable,” he said, his gaze running down her body, stopping at the juncture of her legs. “But if you're not interested in continuing, we'll stop right now.”