“I’m…not…quitting,” I try to yell at him, my sobs punctuating the vowels. “I’m—”
“Done for the day,” Cullen responds gently. Shifting me in his lap, he settles my head into the groove of his shoulder, his free hand rubbing a quiet circle along my trembling back. “You did good, Reynolds. We’re going to make a warrior of you yet.”
“What?” I scrub my face, but the treacherous hiccupping breaths won’t stop coming. Cullen’s words wash over me, the potent mix of relief and confusion making my head spin, his praise filling me like a drug. “But you… Is this what you wanted from me? Tears?”
“I don’t care one way or the other about tears.” Cullen brushes my sweat-soaked hair away from my face, his large hand stroking my head. “Or about how far you can run just now, or how many pushups you can do. This was about fighting.”
I shake my head, not understanding him at all.
Cullen sighs. “From what I saw in that Lincoln Drive yard, when you get hit, your only instinct is to shield yourself from more punishment. No one wins a fight that way. I needed you to learn what your body can do, to keep your wits about you, to know that a bit of pain is not a reason to surrender. And you didn’t.” Cullen leans down, his forehead touching mine. “You didn’t stop, Reynolds. Didn’t surrender. Hell, a week ago, you cowered when I raised my voice—and now you took a shot at me instead. And I’m more proud of you than you can imagine.”
“I’m not sure about the wits part,” I whisper, savoring the heat of Cullen’s body as he holds me against him, his spicy scent mixing with the fresh scent of earth.
A corner of his mouth twitches, which makes his severe face soften into something rare and vulnerable. “Well, can’t lose what you don’t have. There is that.”
My lips part, Cullen’s mouth lowering to cover mine softly, his tongue slipping between my teeth as if seeking permission. Pleasure and warmth spider through me, my mouth yielding to Cullen’s just as my body sinks fully into the kiss.
The tension magnifies, the kiss morphing from gentleness to something more primal. More needy. More wild. My breath catches, my hips rocking against Cullen’s to register his erection expanding beneath me, my panties dampening at once.
I shift my position, directing the friction between us to where I long for it most, as Cullen lowers his head to nip the side of my throat. Tiny prickles of pain spice the pleasure, and it feels so good that I moan.
The noise seems to excite him. The nips morph to long delicious suckles that snake down my skin to the hollow beneath my left ear.
“Yes,” I pant, my eyes closing so I can absorb all these sensations at once.
Adjusting my legs so I’m straddling him fully, Cullen lets his hands knead down my back, his strong fingers digging into sore muscles beneath my shoulder blades. Each press sends a rush of pleasure through me, making my thighs clench around the man’s taut, hard waist.
Running my hands through Cullen’s short blond hair, I find the thick strands much silkier than I would’ve imagined. So much about this man is a dichotomy. A set of Jekyll-and-Hyde contrasts that defy logic and reality.
Just like what we’re doing now, in the middle of the vast Colorado forest. Holy hell. What are we doing? The sobering thought sends a shiver through me, even as my body keeps rhythm with his, refusing to break the tantalizing sensations. A mistake. I know this is a mistake. But it’s a mistake I really, really want to make.
Cullen’s fingers weave deeper into my hair, removing the elastic band to set the strawberry strands free. For a moment, he buries his nose in its waves, inhaling my scent with primal urgency, before his palms lower to my waist. In the next second, his thumbs have worked their way beneath the hem of my yoga shirt, peeling the snug spandex right off my body. I feel the air on my newly exposed skin, but the uncontrolled shiver is from far more than the chill. In fact, with how desperately my sex clenches over the emptiness inside it, I’m certain I’m about to combust.
Laying me down on a nearby patch of grass, Cullen buries his face in my cleavage, nuzzling along the zipper of my sports bra before closing his mouth around my straining nipple and sucking it through the cotton. Hard.
“Oh God.” I buck beneath him as arousal rushes through me, making my breasts and back and thighs ache with need. Wrapping my legs around Cullen’s waist, I feel his own desire iron hard between my legs. My brain engages just long enough to wonder if I’ll survive this, before deciding that it doesn’t much care.
Grasping Cullen’s wet shirt, I struggle to yank it from him, the promise of inked skin beneath my touch turning my movements into desperate jerks. Everything inside me suddenly aches to explore the expanse of man I’ve seen and slept beside, yet never, ever touched.
Removing his shirt obligingly—because it’s clear to us both that I lack the coordination and strength to wrestle anything off Cullen—the man snakes the delicious cotton beneath my head. As soon as that’s done, he unzips my bra, flinging it away with predatory intent.
My breasts fall free, the nipples peaked in the chill, my breaths coming fast and shallow as my legs tighten around him.
Taking each of my breasts in his hands, the pressure just enough to ride the edge of pain to make it transform into molten pleasure, Cullen leans his upper body toward mine. The contradictions of cool air and warm flesh, hard muscles and soft earth assault my body, playing off each other in a dangerous cascade of sensation.
My breasts ache. My sex and thighs need more more more as I press myself against his throbbing erection.
With his chest bare, I see his rapid pulse beating in the soft hollow of his neck, just a hand width above the collarbone. Raising my head, I run my tongue over the spot, savoring its spicy, clean scent as Cullen flinches but holds still. I feel as much as hear the man’s breath quicken as I pursue the sensitive artery, scraping my teeth along the delicate skin.
“You’ll pay for that,” he promises, his voice as strained as his cock, his arms trembling as he braces himself on either side of me.
“Mmm,” I murmur, feeling all the pent-up fury I’ve ever felt for the bastard transform into heady passion. Into a craving that must be sated. Catching sight of Cullen’s tattoo, I do what I’ve longed for since first seeing it—trace one finger along the tribal ink that swirls around his arm and up to his shoulder, pausing to outline the eagle before dragging the edges of my teeth across the top of the shield. And then I bite into him, not bothering to be nice.
Cullen jerks beneath me, a groan escaping his mouth.
I lean up to whisper in his ear, “You deserved that.”
“Agreed,” Cullen sounds low and dangerous and so damn seductive that my arousal soaks through my yoga pants. “But you’ll pay for it anyway.”
25
Cullen
Cullen was losing his mind, the fierce meeting of lips and skin and bodies driving him beyond logic. The floral smell and the sweet honey-like taste of the woman in his arms made him want to devour her in a single gulp. He ground against her, savoring the way her hips swiveled, pressing up against his stone-hard cock. Cullen’s vision narrowed, the damn world narrowed, until all he could see was the single pinpoint that was Skylar Reynolds.