Page 101 of Fight

I smirk. “Atta girl. I love it when you use your words.”

Sitting up on my heels, I yank her closer, pulling her ass into my lap while I pound into her. Each thrust hammers, causing Scottie to press her fingers against the wood behind her to keep from getting thrown into the headboard. My palms rest on her bent knees, parting them so I can marvel her exquisite body as I devour it. One hand slides down her soft thigh until I’m massaging figure-eights over her clit, the way I watched her do it in the fire tower.

“Is this how you like being taken?”

“Yes,” she cries.

“Show me, Prescott. Come on this fucking cock.”

Her raptured cries spur me on.How did I get so lucky?Muscles tighten around my length, and I smile as her impending orgasm amplifies. “That’s my girl.”

With that, she begins fucking me back.

“Goddamn,” I growl. “That’s right, take what you deserve. It’s all yours. I’m yours.” She owns me like no one ever has or ever will. “Make me come, just for you.”

Her mouth drops open, and her abs ripple as she bends forward, slapping her trembling hands against my forearms to squeeze them with all her might while she holds on to the euphoria coursing through her. “That’s my girl, just like that, baby.”

“Who do you belong to, baby?” I gruff, panting, stuffing her tight pussy over and over. Her words are mumbled, then she stops speaking altogether. I feel the second she’s toppled over by the wave of her orgasm. Fuck. “Tell me, Prescott.”

“You. Only you,” she says between sobs. “Don’t pull out.” As if she needs to tell me.

Two strokes later, I’m coming. This time it doesn’t feel like an explosion, it feels like being put back together. Like finding that missing piece. Like being made whole again.

I bracket my elbows on each side of her when I collapse. “I love you so fucking much.” I crush my mouth to hers, and she circles her arms around my shoulders, her fingernails trailing over my skin and sending me into a deep relaxed state, in a cadence that’s ours alone.

She moves her lips with mine. It’s real love. I can taste it in her kiss, feel it in her touch, and see it in the sparkling blue eyes I adore so much.

I curse the alarm on her phone when it goes off at 5:30 a.m. and wrap my arm tightly around her middle, not ready to let her go. I gotta remind myself she’ll be back after her shift, but after hearing about her conversation with Jonathan yesterday, I worry. I barely slept last night, but it had nothing to do with my memories and everything to do with him asking her to go back. There’s no way I’m subjecting her to that life. I saw the defeat in her eyes. I won’t let anyone steal the peace she’s found here.

Scottie is my home, the same way Sky Ridge is hers.

She belongs in whatever place makes her happy, where she can live fearlessly and thrive. If that was back in Arkansas, I wouldn’t stop her, but she’s sacrificing herself when she’s already sacrificed enough.

The thought of Scottie returning to the people who broke her is enough for me to steal her away to the top of Quell’s again. We can stay in our lookout, putting logs on the fire, and spending afternoons in each other’s arms.

She stretches in my embrace and groans. “I feel like we just went to bed.”

“Me too.” I press my lips to her neck. Scottie’s sleep was as restless as mine, but even in the short intervals of rest, her body sought mine out in the sheets every time we strayed too far from each other. There’s a comfort in using up the same amount of space we had in the fire tower. But, as much as I want her to stay here all day, I have a lot I need to accomplish in the next twelve hours.

My grip loosens. “Time to get up, baby.”

She hums, and flutters her lashes, pulling away from me. I ignore the empty feeling of her absence.She’s coming back.

Her hand slaps the bedside table until she feels her phone. Squinting, she checks the time. “Shoot,” she mutters. “I’m gonna be late.”

I sit up and scrub a palm down my face. “You want coffee?”

She shakes her head. “I’ll grab some at the station.”

I swing my legs over the side of the bed and stretch, my joints popping and clicking like I’ve added forty years onto my age.

She snatches up her navy EMT uniform and hops around as she clumsily wrangles her foot into the pant leg. In the bathroom, she’s brushing her teeth with one hand and awkwardly buttoning her shirt with the other. I stand behind her, resting my chin on her shoulder, then push her fingers aside and finish the rest of the buttons.

“’Hank yew,” she says around her toothbrush.

“Hey, last night? We didn’t use protection.”

Her brow furrows, and she extracts her toothbrush, tilting her head up to keep the frothy toothpaste from dribbling out. “I’m on birth control.”