“Ian.” She wanted to say more, but that one syllable was all that she could get out. The sensations building in her core were like a ball of megawatt electricity growing with each thrust and retreat, making it almost impossible to do anything but chase after her climax.

“Say it again.” He plunged into her harder, deeper.

“Ian.” Breathy. Begging. On the verge.

“Jesus, Shelby, I’m gonna come.” He slipped his hand between their bodies and rolled her clit with the pad of his thumb, round and round.

The pleasure built and built until— “Oh. My. God.”

And she broke apart as her orgasm crashed into her, turning her entire body electric. Ian sank back onto his heels, taking her with him and shoving her up and down his length in an ever faster rhythm before sinking deep within her and coming with a harsh groan.

She was floating and sinking at the same time as she collapsed against him, secure at least in this moment, that he’d catch her. And he did, wrapping his arms around her and holding her tight as they both came down.

Four hundred and sixty-eight days later—or at least that’s what it felt like—her heart rate finally returned to normal and she slid off him and back onto the rug. She swore her eyes didn’t flicker shut, but the next thing she was aware of was Ian scooping her up from the floor and carrying her to the couch. He’d made up one of the chaise ends with blankets and two pillows. He laid her down and then scooted in beside her.

“Where’d you go?” she asked, trying to regain her mental footing.

“Got rid of the condom.” He grabbed the grizzly-bear comforter and threw it over both of them, then pulled her in close so her head was resting on his chest. “Now, rest up. I was serious about taking advantage of being snowed in. I have plans for us tomorrow.”

Even as sleep tugged at her, she knew that she should remind him this was a one-time-only thing. Hell, she should probably be reminding herself. She would. Tomorrow. Tonight, she was going to enjoy the post-orgasm snuggle.

Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

“You’re gonna wanna get up real slowly and make sure I can see your hands.”

If there was anything that would make Shelby wake up in an instant, it was those words spoken by an unfamiliar voice. Heart hammering, she sat straight up, clutching the comforter to her chest. Ian shifted so his body blocked hers from the older couple in head-to-toe plaid flannel—including matching fuzzy hats with ear flaps—and the sheriff’s deputy. The trio stood in front of the fireplace right next to a large framed photo on the mantel showing the same older couple surrounded by about a million grandkids ranging from toddlers to college-age.