The Hero I Need: A Small Town Romance

by Snow, Nicole

“Unfortunately, you’re right,” he grumbles, closing the door, trapping me against it. “But fuck, Willow...we have a few minutes. We have time.”

  Time enough for my ruin, he means, and I’m going to love every scorching second.

  His lips capture mine again and I arch into him, holding back nothing.

  The heat, the need, the soaked desires rend the air between us like a current. Even hotter than last night.

  It’s as close to desperation as anything I’ve ever experienced.

  And I think it’s then that the very last walls of good sense come cascading down in rubble.

  Our hands are everywhere—touching, feeling, caressing with a mission.

  Grady’s next kiss is all growl, a fire to my windy moan.

  My hands are in his hair, nails against his scalp, urging his lips lower, lower, straight to the target on my neck.

  “Oh, shit,” I whimper, going slack against him, loving how his big hand squeezes my ass to hold me up.

  So maybe it doesn’t matter if I’m only here for a short time.

  This is what I want. What I need. What I’ll cherish.

  The way he’s kissing my skin—my lips, neck, shoulders—tells me Grady needs it just as bad as I do.

  Thunder pours out of him again.

  “Willow, fuck, I don’t think I can wait.”

  I can’t either, and we’re way past caring that it’s daylight and the girls could return anytime. Our animal lust has us racing for the stairs, where he pounces, flinging me over his shoulder.

  He’s all caveman at war then, stripping off my clothes as we go while I rake my nails across his neck.

  In his room, he once again flattens me against the wall, tearing at his own clothing. I stop and stare, utterly transfixed, drunk on the sight of that punishing body slowly unveiled.

  A chest like cut rock slathered in military ink, jagged geometric designs and eagle wings and a flag.

  A pair of thighs that could crush the world to dust.

  A bulge to end all hard-ons in his boxers, so big and alive and pulsing even through the fabric it scares me.

  My fingers tremble, reaching out, stroking his length, wondering how I’ll ever fit him when he’s this damn thick. The heat nearly singes my hand.

  Holy, holy hell.

  “Goddamn, woman. Lose the panties. I didn’t come to play,” he snarls, reaching for my lacy fabric and thrusting it down my legs.

  His nostrils flare the second I’m exposed. I’m sure he can smell how savagely wet I am and it scares me in the best ways.

  He cups my mound, thumb to my clit, and squeezes hard.

  Oh. Flipping. My.

  I flatten against the wall, barely noticing as he strips his boxers off, kicking them away behind him.

  I’m almost a freaking puddle by the time his arms fold around me again, engulfing me in bear-brown eyes, right before he lifts me off the ground and throws me down on the bed.

  “Don’t move. Gonna be right back,” he rasps.

  “Hurry,” I say, tumbling flat on my back with a shudder.

  He returns a second later, tearing open a foil condom wrapper with his teeth. I finally get a good look at the hammer throbbing between his legs and bite my lip so hard I almost taste blood.

  This man is hard as granite, seething, and entirely set on business.

  I fight the urge to press my thighs together nervously and open my legs for him instead.

  There’ll be another time to slowly make love, explore, and drink each other in.

  Right now, I’m an itch of quivering curves and I’m going to die without being scratched.

  I’ve never been so excited, so exhilarated. I can’t pull my eyes away as he stops between my legs, fully buff and looking more like a Greek god than any mere mortal.

  “I’ll try, Willow,” he grinds out, his face taut with need.

  “Try?” I whisper, totally lost.

  Stopping near the foot of the bed, he slides the condom on over his shaft, and I swear a have a mini climax at the sight.

  “Try to go slow. Try not to break you. But darlin’, you’re so fucking gorgeous and wet I make no promises,” he whispers, flicking the head of his cock against my opening.

  “Like hell,” I whimper back.

  We’re both too close to losing control.

  I grab at his shoulders, opening my legs wide, giving him full access.

  “We don’t have time for slow. Take me like you mean it, Grady. I want every sweet inch.”

  The gaze he throws at me could rival every big, scary cat I’ve ever seen.

  Then his hips start moving, a human bulldozer intent on crushing me under him, shoving me down, down, down like I adore.

  He feeds one inch in at a time, half his length, and then anchors down the rest in one rough jerk.

  My pleasure sigh slips into a frantic moan, rocking my hips into his, taking Grady’s mammoth length as he stretches me to my limit.

  I’m stunned how well we fit together.

  The pressure as he slides in to the hilt is unbelievable. It’s so perfect I close my eyes, loving the sultry weight of his lips, the way he sinks his teeth into my bottom lip.

  Claimed, his kiss says. Every damn bit of you.

  M-I-N-E.

  Insanity.

  It must be because I’ve waited my entire life for something to feel this good without even realizing it. No other boy compares when I realize—I’ve never been with a man.

  Not until now.

  His hips take command, pounding me against the bed, long strokes like a slashing sword coming harder and deeper, building with the low, steady growl in his throat.

  We find our rhythm.

  We find our place in heaven.

  We find out just how frightfully lost a human being can get in the sins of the flesh, the fever of the kiss, the groaning, shaking pitch of our bodies.

  “Tight as hell!” he snarls, plunging deeper, faster. “Don’t want to fucking break you, darlin’.”

  But my nails beg him to.

  I want his kind of hurt, his decadent pleasure, uninhibited permission to take me any flipping way he wants.

  The harsh, desperate scratches at his back say do it. Please. Give, give and hold nothing back.

  It’s all the encouragement he needs.

  We’re beyond words as his forehead pushes against mine again, and his pubic bone finds my clit, raking across it with just the right pressure.

  I’m so gone I’m not sure I’ll ever be back.

  My first O hits like rhythmic waves of flame.

  A rapid, violent cord snaps in my body, lashing every nerve, loosening a white-hot pleasure so intense I can’t even scream.

  I’m just a thing of raw, bestial pleasure underneath his body, his hips slamming into me, hoarse sounds ripping from his throat as he grinds me into the mattress.

  We’re beyond holy shit, people.

  This is hallowed ground, unholy sex, and I think it always will be with what this man does to me.

  There’s barely a breather as his thrusts quicken, raging through my release, a perfect shadow of muscle hovering over me.

  He’s thick with promises and thicker with raw friction and guttural groans.

  “Willow, fuck, I can’t—”

  “Come with me!” I scream, locking my legs around his, flinging myself upward and enveloping his beautiful cock.

  Apparently, this is what it’s like taking an avalanche to bed and wanting to be crushed.

  Because a second later, his body goes as rigid as steel.

  He plunges to my depths, swelling at the edge of my womb with embers from hell in those whiskey-dark eyes, so bright they’re almost russet now.

  It’s enough to send me flying right over the edge again, a split second ahead of him exploding in the condom.

  I swear it’s so hot, so intense, so much I can feel him erupting inside me.

  The rest of what I feel leaves no doubt whatsoever.

  His massive body seize
s, a ragged curse lodged in his throat, every last bit of him hellbent on claiming me for what I know will be the first of many, many rounds.

  We come together for an age, our hips fighting each other for every last squeeze of pleasure, our voices shot for the next few hours.

  Dear God.

  I’m barely coherent enough to gasp for air when he finally rolls off me, shoving his lips on mine for one more possessive, jealous, and all-too-addicting kiss.

  Stick a fork in me.

  I was done twenty minutes ago.

  I also know this is something I have to experience again.

  Soon.

  One wild round with Grady McKnight is so not enough for this lifetime.

  14

  If He Hollers (Grady)

  I pinch myself, making sure I haven’t turned inside the fuck out.

  Every time I look at Willow Wisp, I remember how she shuddered, moaning my name as she came like the Fourth of July.

  I try to keep my proud grin hidden, but I can’t.

  I’m still a dude. Sue me.

  Go ahead and bet how much I loved every nanosecond of her walls pinching my cock. Loved the feel of her hot, wet pussy clenching, aching, coming undone.

  I left her in pieces, and I want to be the only man who puts her back together.

  Worst part is, as soon as I was spent, I wanted her all over again like a man craves an oasis in the dry-ass desert. I never even softened.

  The only reason I hadn’t taken her again was because of the girls.

  That instinct was right.

  They were breaking into cookies in the kitchen when I came downstairs after my shower, after Willow, taking my sweet time to avoid rousing suspicion.

  Don’t get me wrong.

  I’ve never been annoyed to see my lovely daughters, but at that moment, fuck.

  I truly wished they were a little older and out for a nice, long country drive instead.

  All because I wanted to claim, toss, and shake Willow Macklin seven ways from Sunday.

  All I wanted were a thousand more of those hot, wet, sexy-as-all-hell kisses.

  I’m still aching for her lips and it’s been over three hours.

  Every minute since leaving that bed has been a special torture.

  After grilling up the burgers for dinner and eating, we took the girls out to the barn to check on Bruce. He’s as content as ever, looking bored like he never busted out in the storm.

  Willow showered too, and now she’s wearing a pair of jean shorts and a white t-shirt with purple eyes. One of my spares with The Purple Bobcat’s logo.

  Damn if it doesn’t hang off of her like a Siren. A man always gets hard enough to break concrete whenever a chick he’s drunk on wears his shirt.

  Facts of life from the Book of Grady.

  Even worse, my bobcat’s pupils are right over her pert, suckable nipples, teasing me with how bad I’d love another taste. Just remembering how I’d softened those hard nubs with every stroke of my tongue puts lightning in my blood.

  We’re all in the living room now, watching a movie that lost my attention an hour ago.

  My one-track mind is stuck on her tits, and my cock jolts every time I look at her.

  So this is how it ends.

  My entire life, gone in a puff of manic, dick-crazed obsession with Little Miss Tiger Thief.

  Fuck.

  My eyes keep flicking to the birch-skinned clock above the fireplace, trying to make the minutes go by faster until it’s time for the girls to go up to bed.

  I know.

  Believe me, I know.

  If I couldn’t actually see that silver minute hand slowly chugging along, I’d swear it needs new batteries.

  The movie finally ends, and we walk the girls up to bed.

  By the time I meet her in the hall, after we’ve each told the girls good night, I’m so hard I’m worried I’ll explode.

  She just looks up at me, batting those baby-blue eyes under her thick lashes. A husky giggle slips out of those pink parted lips.

  Just like she knows.

  Swallowing thickly, I pull her close, attacking her mouth with mine, loving how she feels against me, kissing me back like return fire.

  “Downstairs,” I whisper, swatting her ass. “Don’t make me ask again.”

  “Ah, so the bat cave tonight? Where no one will hear?” she asks, running a hand under my shirt.

  “Yes.” I grasp her ass cheeks again with both hands, kneading her like the most precious dough ever made. “It’s either that, or I’ll have to stuff your panties in your mouth.”

  “Ass!” She swipes my shoulder with a playful smack, adorable merriment in her eyes. “When?”

  I kiss her slowly, dragging it out, pretending I’m not dying to take her right the hell here.

  “Hm. Don’t know. How about...” Long pause. “Now.”

  The trip to the basement is a mad dash, and once the door is closed and locked, rabid desperation for what we both want takes over.

  For the second time today, we nearly rip our clothes off each other, hurling them aside like they’re poison between another round of fuck-hot kisses.

  If anyone knew what she did to me, they’d have me committed.

  I’ve never, never, never wanted a woman like I want Willow.

  And I can’t believe it’s only because I’ve been with my needs going unsatisfied for years. That might be part of it, but the rest begins and ends with every sweet inch of her.

  Frankly, I don’t care about explanations.

  We’re way past whats and whys.

  I’m too riled, too ready, and too broke in the head to contemplate anything except my Willow Wisp naked as the day she was born and laid out under me.

  We don’t say a word.

  She just steps closer, gives me a playful shove, and I throw myself back on the futon, still folded down from our last encounter interrupted by the great tiger escape.

  It also now has a set of sheets, a couple pillows, and a comforter I’d brought down here earlier, fully anticipating we’d be spending the night together.

  I look up from the mattress, laughing.

  She climbs on with a fire-blue glint in her eye, those heavenly legs spread wide, straddling me.

  Fucking hell, do I love this newfound courage, this other side of her gushing out.

  Before, her lips tasted nervous, even if they were still blistering hot.

  Now, my innocent Willow becomes a whirlwind.

  Now, she brings her mouth to mine with a breathy, slick hunger that matches my own.

  My dick jerks against her thigh, grinding into her skin, making her give up a moan that tastes like mulled wine.

  Grabbing her hands, I urge them to my shoulders, holding her eyes.

  “Eager to be in charge tonight, huh? Or are you just asking for it rough?” I growl.

  Her eyes roll, giving the choice to me as she answers with another kiss that could leave cigarette burns.

  I love how she’s not afraid, how she needs it so bad she’s ready to dive in.

  I also like the position we’re in, all the better to rock her to ecstasy and back without feeling like I’m doing all the work.

  A fierce hand on her ass helps lower her naked body, pressing her delicate pussy lips to my shaft. She’s so fucking wet I could slam into her right now.

  I could dig my fingers into her lush cheeks, pin every inch of her to me, and sweep long, hard strokes into her body. I could bring her off in firecracker bursts of heat and moans and fleshy ripples.

  But I don’t do that shit.

  I mean to draw this out tonight, fill her with a slow-burning crescendo that’ll have her fully alive, fully electric, fully in rapture.

  Yes, fuck, more insanity—but loving Willow Macklin’s body picks every last bit of good sense I own up by the scruff and chucks it out the door.

  My hands find her breasts and my palms tease her nipples, sliding over those puckered buds.

  Her kisses come quicker, h
er hunger deepening, her moans even sweeter than they tasted before.

  As soon as her lips leave mine, I snake kisses straight down her neck before taking one of her nipples in my mouth. I capture it between my teeth, a hostage for my tongue, flicking against melting flesh with the darkest intentions.

  “Grady—shit!” Her hips rise as she climbs me, her kitten-like claws sinking into the back of my neck.

  The way she moans makes my cock certifiably insane, and I tell myself to ignore it.

  Not till I see her splinter. Just a little while longer, dammit.

  No matter how badly I want to anchor my cock deep inside her wet pussy and hold it there like a beast marking his turf, I’ll take my time.

  I’ll make her serenade me with candy whimpers.

  I’ll stretch this fun deep into the thick, vibrating night.

  Her pussy grinds against me again, making my promises harder to keep if I don’t get her off my dick right now.

  So I pull her forward, releasing her nipple to kiss her stomach, then swing her to the mattress next to me so I can move lower.

  The soft swell of her belly—something I love in a woman because it reminds me she’s made to breed—rises as my tongue maps her skin.

  I trace my way south to the steaming scent of her cream filling my nostrils, this voodoo incense that sets my tongue on fire every second it isn’t consuming her.

  Nuzzling the soft curls over her mound, kissing at her inner thighs, I inhale her like a fiend before I can’t anymore.

  Then my hands move, sliding under her delectable butt, lifting her up and pulling her against my face, where I reward her pussy with a starving mad swipe of my tongue.

  “Oh!” she whines.

  More like oh, shit.

  Willow tastes so good, all sweet things mingled with spice. I can feel my length stretching like a railroad spike, my balls blazing raw fire.

  Every fucking taste of her kills me a little more, gives me an addiction I don’t think I can quit.

  I damn well don’t want to.

  I never want to lose this pussy, this mess of chestnut hair and fluttering blue eyes, this woman who’s tumbled into my life and my bed and brought me to the brink of rebirth.

  Snarling, I find her clit and go the fuck to town.

  It doesn’t take long.

  Her legs begin shaking, thrown over my shoulders.