were moving over her body, large and calloused, spanning her waist with ease.
He made being small feel good.
When before, if it had been anything to her it had only been a detraction. Because she wanted to be a police officer, and you didn’t exactly inspire fear in people when you weren’t halfway over five foot.
But West, broad and muscular and over six feet tall, made her frame feel lovely. Like it had been created to fit against his. Like she was made to fit right into his arms.
He made her feel like her softness existed to complement his hardness. And there was so much hard about this man.
She let herself touch all of it.
His chest, his body lived in her dreams every night. The way that he looked. The way that it had felt to touch that hot skin, those hard packed muscles. That perfect amount of body hair over the top of them.
He was a man.
And he made her feel glad to be a woman in ways that she had never been aware of before.
He made her understand why that difference was a mystery meant to be untangled without clothes on. Made her understand why being around a pack of large cowboys all of her life didn’t really mean anything in terms of being accustomed to men like that.
Because this was a whole different thing. A whole different intimacy. A whole different reason for noticing the differences between men and women.
Before it was that they were tall. That they smelled after a hard day’s work. That they weren’t afraid to take up space or leave their muddy boots all over.
But now it was about bodies. About the way his sigh sounded deep and heavy when she pushed her hands up underneath his shirt.
The way he went tense and hard when she licked his lips.
The way he got hard between his legs.
About the square cut of his jaw and the feel of his whiskers under her palm.
About how strength could be overwhelming and controlled at the same time. How she could feel with his every touch that he could easily overwhelm her, and also feel that he was choosing not to.
With that strength, he moved his hands down to her hips and maneuvered her up against the wall, her shoulder blades pressing against that hard surface.
She didn’t want to think.
She didn’t want to do the right thing.
She didn’t want to be responsible.
Life had taken so many things from her.
Why couldn’t she have this? This moment of insanity.
This moment that was almost certainly against the law.
For some reason that thought only spurred her on. Made her more excited. When West pushed his hand up her shirt, underneath her sports bra and cupped her bare breasts, so that she could feel his rough fingertips moving over her nipple, she gasped, her internal muscles clenching. She was so close to the edge. Just with that.
He teased her for a moment, but didn’t strip her clothes off her. Then he undid the button on her jeans and pressed his hand down beneath the fabric, beneath her panties. And he found her, wet and slick and ready for him.
She might have been embarrassed another time. To let him know how much she wanted him.
But this was about her.
Her gift from the universe after she had received blessed little for all these years.
Her due.
West Caldwell and his magic hands were compensation for a life spent lonely.
And she was going to revel in it.
His fingers were magic, and he brought her to the edge, and then tipped her over. She was shocked how easily.
It was never this easy at home alone with her own hands, though heaven knew she was experienced enough with it. You didn’t get to be a twenty-seven-year-old virgin without figuring out how to deal with yourself.
But with his hands, she didn’t have control. With his hands, she didn’t get to choose when.
And that made it feel exhilarating. Exciting.
And then, he was pushing her jeans and panties down, midway down her thighs, and he had opened the front of his own jeans, taking his wallet out of his back pocket and quickly sliding a condom over himself.
And then, with West, hot and hard in front of her and the wall uncompromising and cold behind her, he pushed himself in deep.
This felt different than when she had been on top of him on the couch.
It took her breath away.
It didn’t hurt like it had done the first time, but she still felt full. Stretched. Like