Fire in the Smokies

never get a chance to think clearly about the implications of their relationship.

Who met a man in a cave in a dire situation and then never separated from him again? Not any normal woman she knew. If one of her friends did that, she’d think they were completely insane.

Brianna dragged herself to standing and finished washing as efficiently as possible. Minutes later, she stood in the bathroom drying off and wrapping the towel around her hair.

She did her best to ignore the ache in her stomach that demanded release. She didn’t even look down at herself or glance in the mirror, knowing if she did she’d find a splotchy red stretch of skin covering her body—a sure sign of her arousal.

“Shit,” she muttered out loud as she wandered to her room. She donned a pair of panties and a tank top and headed back to the kitchen. The microwave had long since finished cooking and now sat beeping every thirty seconds to alert her to its uneaten contents.

Sure enough, the meal was lukewarm. Brianna didn’t have the inclination to care right then and scarfed the tiny black plastic container of food without tasting a thing.

In less time than it took her to shower, considering the interruption, she finished the meager dinner, brushed her teeth and slid in between the cool sheets of her bed.

Under normal circumstances she hated that first moment when the bed was cold and she wanted to be warm. Tonight was different. Her skin was on fire and the cool material actually felt welcoming.

Brianna snuggled under the covers and consciously relaxed every muscle in her body. She could do this sleep thing. No doubt she was tired. Now she was clean and fed too. Deep breaths. Cleansing. Freeing. Relaxing. Okay, not relaxing…

When she closed her eyes, all she saw behind her lids was Jaxon. As though he were in the room, she could feel his hands wrapped around her body, smell his outdoorsy clean scent, hear his breaths rise as he nuzzled her neck. Hell, the backs of her eyelids even showed a film of his sexy body rising over hers, his eyes burrowing deep into her soul as he slid into her needy, wanting pussy.

Brianna moaned and gripped her legs together. She had to get that man out of her brain and rest.

Taste. She’d left out that one sensation. She licked her lips, remembering the flavor of his skin. The taste of his tongue inside her mouth.

She had to quit this right now.

Brianna grabbed the second pillow from the other side of the bed and flung it over her head. As though that would block out the images. The memories.

If they hadn’t already fucked several times, would she still be able to envision so clearly what every second of their joining was like?

As she lay there breathing, as heavily as if she’d just had sex, she listened to the silence. Niggling in her mind was the possibility she wasn’t completely blocking Jaxon as she would like. She was so new to the concept she doubted she had the capability to keep him out of her head entirely.

Minutes ticked by. If she had a wall clock, she could count them to occupy her mind. She had no such thing. Her hands itched to reach between her legs again. Her tank top had risen in her restlessness until it nestled just below her breasts. She didn’t dare tug it back down for fear the material would rasp across her nipples and drive her further into the torturous world of denial she’d created all by herself.

In fact, she didn’t move a muscle. She kept her hands to her sides and gripped the sheet in her fists to hold still.

Inhale. Exhale. Repeat.

Wetness dampened her panties. It dripped from her pussy of its own accord. She squirmed against the wetness. A huge mistake. The lace of her panties rubbed against her clit to drive her crazy with need.

Fuck.

“Jaxon. You win. If you can hear me, get your ass in here. I can’t fucking sleep without having your cock buried inside me at least once.” She bit her lip and waited to see if he’d respond. Could he truly hear her? It was a test in a way. A test of her sanity with regards to the man who was supposedly watching her apartment from his truck. Was he perhaps a figment of her imagination?

Apparently not. And furthermore, the man couldn’t possibly have still been in his truck. Less than two full breaths later, there was a knock at her door.

Damn.

She hadn’t considered that. Now she had to get out of bed and go let him in.

As she rose, she promised herself this meant nothing. Just because she liked having him with her…just because his cock filled her to perfection and she wanted to test that theory again now…just because she needed him as bad as she needed her next breath…it meant nothing. She could sleep with him again tonight and still walk away tomorrow.

Definitely.

For sure.

She hoped…

Jaxon’s cock ached like never before. He’d been standing outside Brianna’s door for several long minutes, knowing she would call to him at any second. How could she not? The little nymph was driving him crazy.

He’d known she wouldn’t be able to ignore the pull of their mating. He’d known she would call him inside eventually. Hell, he’d even known he needed to tread lightly where her feelings were concerned. This entire concept was foreign to her. It wouldn’t help for him to be smug about it. No brownie points would be earned there.

What he hadn’t known, or considered, was how poorly his little human would be able to block him while she came around.

For nearly half an hour he’d been on the fringe of her emotions, hovering right there with her while she masturbated herself to completion on the shower floor. He’d had to take his cock in hand while she did that and bring himself to orgasm, visualizing her firm naked body—legs spread, water cascading over her, her eyes rolled back in ecstasy.

After he cleaned himself up with the pack of tissues he was relieved to find under the seat, he’d attempted to tuck himself back into his jeans, hoping for his mate’s sake she could rest after the all-consuming orgasm that racked her frame.

At least if she slept for a while, she could let him back into her world with her head held high. But such was not the case.

Instead, she still craved him. When she’d climbed between her sheets and began to visualize their mating, Jaxon had hit his head on the steering wheel while he groaned in frustration.

He’d known then she wouldn’t make it through the night. Without a good hard fuck, she wouldn’t be able to relax.

In the cold evening air, Jaxon had left the warmth of his car and ambled toward her door, grateful no one was around to see his attempt at a normal stride with his dick at full attention once again and bulging into the front of his jeans.

When and why and who on earth decided it was a good idea to put men’s zippers right in front of their cocks? Didn’t anyone consider how painful the metal teeth would be for a man consumed with arousal who tended to go commando? Geez.

Adjusting himself and glancing around to make sure no one was watching him, Jaxon had made his way to his mate’s door and let his head fall against the cold glossy paint.

And waited.

Finally, she called to him. It jarred him a bit. He’d expected a phone call, not a mental connection.

Jerking upright, Jaxon rapped his fist three times against the door.

He smiled when his shocked mate climbed out of bed. She really needed to learn to block. She had no idea what she did to him with that head of hers running a mile a minute.

The door whipped open.

Jaxon sucked in a deep breath. He shouldn’t have been shocked. It wasn’t as though he had no idea what she’d been wearing. She’d screamed it through the connection when she’d stepped into the white lace panties and then slipped the tight-fitting tank over her head.