Free Winter Heat by Dawn Halliday

collarbones, brushing over the scab between them, her hand tangled in his hair.
    He moved on, allowing his eyes to drift closed, glorying in the taste and scent of her. She smelled fresh, like the forest after a rain, and she tasted like sweet cream. His lips drifted lower, and he opened his eyes as his mouth grazed the side of her breast. The pale round globes flushed wherever he touched them, and he touched them all over. Kissed them and loved them before closing his mouth over the taut berry of one of her nipples.
    Gasping and shuddering beneath him, she whispered, “Logan, oh . . .”
    He nipped gently, grazing his teeth over the peak, and she squealed. Suddenly tense all over, Logan raised his head to look at her. “Did I hurt—?”
    Growling at him, she yanked his head back to her breast. “More,” she demanded.
    He gave her more. He worshipped her breasts, licked them, teased, nipped, and suckled until she writhed beneath him, groaning his name over and over.
    He slid his hand between her legs and was gratified to feel her slick and ready.
    “Turn over,” he said hoarsely.
    She flipped onto her belly, and his breath caught at the sight of her backside. Her spine dipped just above her curved pale buttocks, its top marked by two deep dimples. Her legs were slender, shapely, perfect. He ran his hands down her back, over her rounded arse, down the backs of her thighs, reveling in the smooth, supple texture of her skin. And then he followed his movements with his lips.
    She trembled everywhere he touched her, as though the sensitivity of her skin had heightened a thousandfold.
    He couldn’t get enough of her. He could touch her like this forever. But his cock had grander ideas. It was stiff as steel, and at its base, a tumultuous ache had begun to boil up from his balls.
    “On your knees,” he rasped.
    Again, she obeyed him immediately, rising on legs that shook like a newborn foal’s, her pale skin flushed all over, as pink and soft as a peach. He bent over her, moved aside her hair, and kissed her neck as he thrust home.
    Sweet heat wrapped around his cock, squeezing him so tightly, he had to grind his teeth and curl his fists into the blankets to keep from coming as soon as he was fully seated inside her.
    “Ah, Maggie,” he ground out. In response she arched her back and wiggled, driving him even deeper.
    Instinct took over. He took her, deep and hard. Heat traveled through his extremities, deep, boiling through him, exerting a pressure so intense he had to close his eyes. Rearing up, he wrapped his hands around her waist and yanked her against him with every thrust. She helped him, slamming her weight back so they joined so intimately he couldn’t tell where she ended and he began.
    “Logan,” she cried. Her back arched, and after the next drive he made into her, she stilled and then began to shake. A sobbing noise emerged from her, but her shake transferred to him in gut-wrenching spasms that made him shudder all over. His entire being centered in the pulsing pole between his legs and then exploded, flooding her with his soul, with his life.
    When it finally began to subside, they both went boneless. She slid to her stomach, and he fell over her, only at the last second shifting as some part of him remembered not to crush her with his weight.

    Sometime later, Maggie sighed and wiggled her bottom.
    “Uncomfortable?” Logan sounded nearly unconscious.
    “No,” she murmured. “Just wanted to look at you a while.”
    He shifted to allow her to move, and she turned to her side to gaze at him in the flickering firelight. Outside the cottage, the wind made something flap against the stone exterior of the cottage, making a rattling noise.
    “When do you think the storm will end?”
    “Can’t storm all winter. A day or two longer most likely.”
    “Then what?” she whispered. Emotion thinned her voice, and she realized she didn’t want to leave this place. She didn’t want to leave him. She didn’t