Chapter 19
The admission hung between us, simple and profound, like the snow falling silently outside the window.
I didn’t pull away, and neither did he. Instead, I let my body settle against his, the warmth of his skin seeping into mine, chasing away the last remnants of chill from the drive home.
The fire in the hearth had dimmed to embers, casting a soft, flickering glow across the bedroom. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed a world of pristine white—snow-laden pines standing sentinel under a moonless sky, the night so still it seemed to hold its breath.
Inside, the air was thick with woodsmoke, cedar, and the unmistakable scent of us.
Cassian’s hand remained over mine on his chest, his thumb tracing lazy circles that sent subtle sparks through me. I watched his face in the low light, the sharp lines softened just enough to reveal the man beneath the hunter.
“You’re still watching me,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through his chest into my palm.
“I am,” I admitted, my fingers flexing slightly against him. “Is that a problem?”
His mouth curved faintly. “No.”
Good. Because I wasn’t done. Not with looking. Not with touching. Not with this pull that had started as a fantasy and morphed into something I couldn’t—and didn’t want to—define yet.
I shifted, propping myself up on one elbow, my hair falling over my shoulder like a dark curtain as I looked down at him. His eyes tracked the movement, dark and steady, but there was a heat there now, banked like the fire, waiting to be stirred.
My body, still humming from earlier, responded instinctively, a slow ache building low in my belly.
We’d crossed that threshold once tonight, slow and savoring, him guiding us with that deliberate control.
But now … now, I wanted something different.
I wanted to lead. To tease. To see what happened when I pushed him, even if just a little.
Without breaking eye contact, I let my hand slide down his chest, tracing the ridges of his abs, the faint trail of hair that led lower. His breath hitched—just barely—but I caught it. Felt the subtle tension coil in his muscles beneath my fingertips.
“You’re not the only one with intentions,” I said softly, my voice laced with a challenge I hadn’t planned.
His gaze sharpened. “Show me.”
Those words sent a thrill racing down my spine. Permission. Or maybe invitation. Either way, he was letting me take this.
I leaned down, brushing my lips against his in a kiss that was light, teasing, barely there.
He responded immediately, his mouth opening under mine, hungry for more, but I pulled back before it could deepen, nipping at his lower lip instead.
A low sound escaped him—not quite a groan, but close enough to make my pulse quicken.
“Lia,” he warned, his hand tightening on my waist, fingers pressing into soft flesh.
I smiled against his skin, trailing open-mouthed kisses down his jaw, along the strong column of his neck, tasting the salt and warmth of him. “Patience,” I whispered, echoing the restraint he’d shown me so many times before.
His chuckle was rough, edged with something darker, more primal. “You’re playing with fire.”
“Good.” I moved lower, my mouth exploring the broad expanse of his chest, my tongue flicking over one flat nipple. He inhaled sharply, his body arching just a fraction toward me.
Encouraged, I lingered there, sucking gently, then harder, my teeth grazing the sensitive peak until it hardened under my attention. His hand fisted in the sheets beside us, knuckles whitening, but he didn’t reach for me. Didn’t take over. He let me.
Emboldened, I continued my descent, kissing and licking a slow path down the center of his torso, feeling the muscles jump beneath my lips.
When I reached his hips, I paused, blowing a cool stream of air over the length of his cock. He was already half-hard, thickening visibly as I wrapped my fingers around the base, stroking him slowly, deliberately, letting my thumb circle the sensitive head on every upstroke.
“Fuck,” he breathed, his eyes closing for a moment before snapping back to mine, dark with raw need.
I loved that—seeing the crack in his composure. Not breaking him, but making him feel it. Making him want more. I pumped him lazily, watching every flicker across his face: the tightening of his jaw, the flare of his nostrils, the way his chest rose and fell faster now.
“You’re enjoying this,” he said, his voice strained but still steady, still him.
“Very much.” I leaned down, my breath ghosting over his length before I flicked my tongue against the tip, tasting the bead of pre-cum that gathered there.
Salty, musky, unmistakably him. His hips jerked once, involuntarily, and I smiled before taking him into my mouth, swirling my tongue around the head before sliding down as far as I could.
He groaned, deep and guttural, his free hand coming to rest lightly on my head—not guiding, just touching, fingers threading gently through my hair. I bobbed slowly, hollowing my cheeks, my hand working the base in perfect rhythm.
The taste of him, the velvet-hard feel of him against my tongue, sent fresh heat pooling between my thighs. I was soaked already, aching, but this wasn’t about rushing. This was about savoring him the way he’d savored me—drawing out every shudder, every ragged breath.
I pulled back with a soft, wet pop, looking up at him through my lashes. His chest heaved, eyes burning. “Tell me what you want,” I said, my voice husky, thick with my own arousal.
“You,” he rasped. “All of you. Now.”
Not enough. I wanted more. I straddled him, my knees bracketing his hips, the heat of him pressing against my slick pussy.
I rocked slowly, sliding my folds along his length without letting him inside, teasing us both with the glide of skin on skin.
The friction sent sparks shooting through me, my clit throbbing with every deliberate pass.
“Lia …” His hands came to my hips, gripping but not forcing, thumbs digging in just enough to anchor me.
“Say it,” I demanded softly, grinding down harder, feeling him twitch against my entrance.
“I want to be inside you,” he ground out, the words rough, almost broken.
The raw plea undid me. I lifted, positioning him at my entrance, then sank down slowly, inch by exquisite inch, feeling the stretch, the fullness that bordered on too much but was exactly right. We both gasped as I seated myself fully, his cock buried deep, pulsing inside me.
For a long moment, I didn’t move, just adjusted to the sensation, my hands braced on his chest for balance.
His eyes locked on mine, something intense and unguarded passing between us—not just lust, but connection.
Even deeper than before. Like we were seeing each other without any remaining barriers.
Then I started to move.
Slow rolls of my hips at first, circling, grinding, feeling every ridge of him drag against my inner walls.
Pleasure built in slow, rolling waves, radiating outward from where we joined.
His hands roamed—up my sides, cupping my breasts, fingers flicking my nipples until they ached and peaked under his touch.
I arched into him, moaning softly, my pace quickening as the need sharpened.
“You’re perfect,” he murmured, his voice rough with awe. “So fucking perfect like this.”
The words hit me like a caress, making my heart stutter even as my body tightened around him.
I leaned down, capturing his mouth in a messy, deep kiss, our tongues tangling as I rode him harder. His hips bucked up to meet me, thrusting deeper, but he still let me set the rhythm, the angle, the speed.
I broke the kiss, sitting up straighter, my hands braced on his thighs behind me for leverage. The new position let him hit that perfect spot inside me with every downward stroke, stars bursting behind my eyelids.
“Cassian,” I whimpered, nails digging into his skin.
“Take what you need,” he said, his gaze fierce, almost reverent. “All of it.”
I did. I rode him faster, breasts bouncing with each movement, his hands steadying me at my waist. Sweat slicked our skin, the room filled with the wet, rhythmic sounds of us—gasps, moans, the soft slap of flesh meeting flesh. The fire crackled faintly, the snow outside a silent, endless witness.
But I wanted to push him further. I slowed abruptly, clenching hard around him, watching his face contort in exquisite pleasure-pain.
“Not yet,” I whispered.
He growled, low and dangerous, fingers digging into my hips. “Tease.”
“Yes.” I lifted almost completely off him, then sank back down torturously slow, repeating the motion, drawing out every sensation until we were both trembling on the edge.
Finally, he snapped—not fully, but enough. His hands guided me down harder, hips surging up to meet me. “Enough,” he rasped. “Come for me, Lia. Let me feel you.”
The command, laced with desperate need, shattered me.
My orgasm crashed through me in blinding waves, clenching rhythmically around him, my cry of his name echoing off the high beams. He followed seconds later, thrusting deep as he spilled inside me with a low, broken groan, his body tensing then melting beneath me.
I collapsed onto his chest, our breaths ragged, hearts pounding in frantic sync. His arms wrapped around me immediately, holding me close, lips pressing soft kisses to my hair, my temple.
In the quiet that followed, as the fire died to glowing coals and the snow continued its gentle, relentless fall, I realized this wasn’t just physical. It was us—teasing, taking, giving. Falling deeper into something neither of us had asked for but both craved with quiet ferocity.
We lay there entwined for what felt like hours, bodies cooling slowly, the vast lodge wrapping us in its hushed luxury. I traced idle patterns on his chest, listening to his heartbeat steady, matching mine.
“You let me,” I said softly, lifting my head to meet his eyes.
He brushed a damp strand of hair from my face, thumb lingering on my cheek. “I wanted to see you take it. Wanted to feel you claim what’s already yours.”
Something in his voice—tender, possessive, achingly honest—made my chest ache in the best way. “And?”
His smile was slow, real, unguarded. “Beautiful. Every second of it.”
I kissed him then, soft and lingering, pouring everything unspoken into it—gratitude, wonder, the first fragile threads of something that felt dangerously close to love. For now, this was enough. This deepening, this connection that grew stronger with every touch, every shared breath.
As sleep finally tugged at the edges of my awareness, I nestled closer, his heartbeat a steady lullaby beneath my ear. The fire’s last embers flickered out, leaving only moonlight on snow and the quiet certainty of us.