Chapter 23
Twenty-Three
Ky
He bends and kisses me, and it’s no gentle meeting of tongues, meshing of lips.
It’s fierce and needy and deep and wet and—
Then he’s pulling back, hands on either side of my body, head hanging, breaths coming in rapid gusts.
The throb between my legs is at a fever pitch and I want nothing more than to sink my hands into his hair and drag him down to me, coax him into kissing me like that, into doing more than that, into giving me everything.
But his position doesn’t exactly scream…take me now.
“Colt?” I murmur.
Hot brown eyes on mine, but his voice is gentle when he murmurs, “Just a second, baby.”
“Is this…I mean…do you not want—?”
“I want.”
Quick, rasping words that stroke up my thighs.
“Then—”
His mouth curves. “I’m trying to go slow, baby. Trying to stay in control so we don’t go too far too fast.”
My heart melts.
Because this man…
“Touch me.”
He shudders.
“Show me what it can be like.”
He drops his head, resting it against my collarbone, his groan shaky. “You’re killing me.”
And I don’t know if it’s feminine instinct or just that I’m starting to know this man, but the rasped-out words puffed against my skin, the way his hands are clenched in the blankets even as he keeps the weight of his body off of mine undoes me.
I lift my leg, wrap it around his waist. “I need you.”
His curse turns the air blue, something so creative that even I, who’s spent so much time around hockey players and has heard my fair share of creative cursing, is surprised.
But only for a moment.
Because then his mouth is on mine and he’s kissing me in that hot, wet, and needy way of his, the one that threatens to melt my bones from the inside out and turn me into a puddle of goo.
But he still doesn’t give me all of his body weight, doesn’t pin me in place.
Looking after me, even now.
Even as the tension ratchets through his body and the desire blooms between us, he’s still watching out for me.
I wonder if my heart ever stood a chance against him.
Then I…well, I stop thinking.
He strokes his fingers along the outside of my arm, down, down, playing over the inside of my wrist, my palm. I shiver, goose bumps prickling on my skin, my breaths going shaky as he slips them beneath the hem of my tank top, trailing them over my belly.
The callouses are a little rough but it’s the sweetest sort of abrasion, as though his touch sets every single one of my nerve endings on fire.
For this man.
For him and only ever him.
They slowly make their way up, tracing over my rib cage, leisurely making their way to—
“Oh!” I groan, my head pressing back into the pillows, arching into the hot brand of his touch. He squeezes, molding my flesh with his slightly roughened palms, but it’s when he brushes his thumb over my nipple that I feel things melt inside me.
Or maybe they tighten.
“Like that?” he asks, his lips at my ear.
I shiver and nod. “You know I do.”
A flick of his tongue. “Tell me what else you like.”
“I—”
But then he’s brushing my nipple again and I’m gasping and he’s kissing his way down my throat, nudging the straps of my tank top down with his nose, peppering kisses over my skin. “Do you like this?”
“Y-yes.”
A tug drags the material of my shirt down, exposing the tops of my breasts.
“What about this?” A flash of his teeth on my skin, the slight sting soothed by his tongue, by his lips.
“Yes,” I whisper, hands in his hair, all but clutching him to me.
He grips the material with his teeth, gives a quick tug and suddenly my breasts are free.
“Fuck,” he growls.
I clutch at the blankets. “Wh-what?”
“I like these”—he cups my flesh again—“too fucking much.”
“How much?” I manage to ask.
His smile is wicked and then he’s bending, taking one hard bud of my nipple into his mouth and—
“Oh my God!”
“You like that,” he says against my skin.
“Don’t stop!” I demand, fingers tightening, hips bucking.
He settles more firmly against me, parting my legs, the hard ridge of his erection pressing against the most sensitive parts of me…
But he doesn’t stop.
And, oh, how it’s good.
I grind against him, my body moving instinctually, seeking, searching, needing.
And, oh, how he gives me exactly what I need.
Lips that work at my flesh, fingers that stroke, pleasure that grows and grows and grows until…
“Colt!” I cry out as I shatter into a thousand, a million pieces, that pleasure exploding in me, taking over every cell, every nerve, every breath, and I’m flying, soaring, completely free of any sensation except for how incredible it feels.
There’s no fear, no talons from the past.
Just…goodness.
It takes a long time to come down, to float back into my own body, but it’s not until he gently pulls on my tank top, covering me, that I manage to peel open my eyes.
He’s moved to my side and is watching me, slowly tracing patterns on the outside of my arm. “Okay?” he murmurs.
I blink. “O-okay?”
A thread of worry slides across his eyes and I snap out of my haze enough to roll so we’re face-to-face, so I can settle my hand on his chest and feel the rapid tattoo of his heart.
“That was incredible.” I shift closer. “Thank you.”
Relief chases the worry out and his mouth hitches up. “Incredible. I’ll take that.”
“Cocky,” I tease. “And speaking of…” I reach down between us, wrap my fingers around the hard length of him.
He pushes into my hand, groaning, the silky strands of his hair brushing over my skin.
“It’s your turn—”
He brushes my hand away. “No, baby.”
“But you didn’t—”
He draws me into his arms, holds me tight against him. “No, starfire. Not tonight.”
And maybe I should push it, should make him allow me to reciprocate this freaking incredible feeling, but my lids are growing heavy and my body is jelly and it feels perfect to be held like this in his arms, especially as my mind drifts toward dreamland.
“Rest,” he murmurs. “I’ve got you now.”
Words, just words.
But they’re words that settle over me, warm and steady…
As they soothe me into sleep.