Never Enough (Meet Me in Montana 1)

I placed my hand on his cheek and whispered, “Brock?”

When he snapped those baby blues open, our gazes locked again. He pulled out, a pained expression on his face, confusion in his eyes.

When he pushed back in, he mumbled, “I don’t deserve something so beautiful as you. As this.”

My fingers sliced into his hair, pulling his mouth to mine. I kissed him with everything I had. I needed him to know what he meant to me. That he did deserve me.

Then he moved. The rhythm was slow at first. It didn’t take me long to find my own pace that matched his. I pulled him deeper into my body, and we both let out a moan of pleasure. It was beautiful. The mad dash to be together had slowed to a romantic pace that had my heart feeling like it would explode at any moment. The closeness I felt to this man was mind boggling.

Brock pressed his mouth to mine as he moved faster. His control slowly starting to slip.

When he pulled back and our eyes locked, I knew he felt what I was feeling. That this was beyond amazing.

I panted, “More.”

His sky-blue eyes quickly turned to a deeper, darker shade, and the corners of his mouth rose into the sexiest grin I’d ever seen.

“I’ve been waiting for you to tell me that,” he replied.

Lifting to his knees, he grabbed on to my hips and gave me exactly what I wanted.

Harder and faster.

Brock’s name fell from my lips as he brought out another orgasm. I came so hard, I wasn’t even sure what I was crying out. His name, maybe? How good it felt? God, it felt beyond good. Lord Almighty, the man could pull out the pleasure in me like he’d been doing it for years. Like he already knew how to make my body react to him in every single way.

He slowed again as he took my hands and laced our fingers together; then he pushed them over my head. The weight of his body on mine was amazing. I’d never had a man look at me with such an intensity in his eyes like Brock was. He was watching everything I did. Listening to every noise I made when he moved inside me. He was learning what pleased me.

“Brock, I’m—”

Before I could tell him I was going to come, yet again, he pressed his mouth to mine.

There was no turning back now. I had given Brock Shaw a piece of my heart that would forever remain his. It felt like this was my first time. My first love. My soul mate.

I squeezed my eyes shut, forcing my tears to stay back as we came together.

I would never forget this moment for the rest of my life, and I knew that no man would ever make me feel like this again. I knew I’d never want anyone other than Brock.

Chapter Twenty

BROCK

This feeling was unlike anything I had ever experienced before in my life. I was making love to Lincoln. The walls I had so carefully built around my heart fell piece by piece as I moved inside her, slowly, memorizing every single thing she seemed to like.

I didn’t make love to women. I fucked them.

This, though . . . fuck, this was so different. I never wanted this moment to end.

The movement of her hips began to match mine. The slow, steady pace of our lovemaking wasn’t going to last much longer.

Then, she opened her eyes, and I saw it. At first, it scared the hell out of me.

Lincoln Pratt was giving me a piece of herself. And, being the greedy asshole I was, I was going to take it.

All of it.

“More,” she begged, squeezing my hands.

“I’ve been waiting for you to tell me that,” I said.

I gave her what she asked for.

“Yes,” she whispered. “Oh, Brock, yes!”

My name on her lips nearly drove me to slow back down, but I wanted her to come again. When she did, I got lost watching her fall to pieces. It was the sexiest thing I’d ever seen. I wanted to see that look on her face every single day.

“Brock,” she whispered, her fingers moving softly up my chest as our eyes met once again.

She was stunning. The most beautiful woman I had ever seen.

I laced her hands in mine and slowed things down. Our bodies moved together flawlessly. As one. My heart sped up, and I tried not to compare making love to Lincoln with making love to Kaci.

With Kaci, I had never felt this connection, this closeness. Sex was good with her, but it was more like fucking. We had fun, then it was over. She didn’t look deeply into my eyes, or run her fingers gently over my skin. With Lincoln, it felt so different. Like she was a part of my very soul. I felt like I could stay inside her for the rest of my life.