Chapter Nineteen #3
Their rhythm built steadily. It was no longer the frantic rush of St. Moritz, but a deeper current of emotion they both let carry them.
Blaire traced the arc of Isaline’s ribs with her fingertips, feeling the heat of her skin, and the hitch in her breath when she circled a nipple with her thumb.
She kissed her again, swallowing the soft noise Isaline made, and reached between them to find her already slick and arching into her touch.
“Still good?” Blaire murmured against her lips, fingers pausing just at her entrance.
Isaline’s answer was a breathless laugh, her hips canting forward. “I am golden. Don’t stop now.”
Blaire slid two fingers into her slowly, relishing the way Isaline’s body welcomed her with the warm clutch of her around her fingers.
She set a relentless pace, curling just right on every other thrust until Isaline’s thighs trembled around her.
The sounds she made—half Swiss curses, half English pleadings—sent heat roaring between Blaire’s legs.
“You’re the most beautiful woman I have ever met, Isa,” Blaire admitted roughly, surprised by her own honesty. She bent her head to drag her tongue over Isaline’s clit.
Isaline’s hands fisted in the sheets before sliding up to grip Blaire’s shoulders. Her nails dug in as her breath came faster. “Oh, yes. I’m close...”
Blaire glanced up and their eyes locked.
Isaline’s lower lip caught between her teeth, and then she shattered.
Her back arched off the bed as pleasure ripped through her with a cry that wasn’t quite muffled by the pillow she’d dragged over her face at the last second.
Blaire continued pumping her fingers slowly and didn’t stop until Isaline’s thighs clamped tight around her wrist, indicating she was done.
“Good?” Blaire withdrew carefully, pressing a kiss to the inside of Isaline’s thigh.
Isaline groaned, slinging an arm over her flushed face. “More than good. It feels like a lifetime we have waited for this.”
Blaire smirked as she crawled up the length of Isaline’s body to claim her mouth in a slow, filthy kiss. She let Isaline taste herself on her lips, reveling in the way the other woman whimpered into it. “Don’t fall asleep on me yet. I’m not done with you,” she teased.
Isaline hooked a leg around Blaire’s waist, flipping them with surprising strength and agility for the small space. For once, Blaire let herself be maneuvered. “I’ll have to wait for my seconds. First, I want my chance with you,” Isaline purred, her fingers making quick work down Blaire’s body.
The rasp of her nails down Blaire’s stomach made the Olympian’s hips jerk.
Isaline didn’t tease; she went right for what she wanted.
She dragged her tongue over Blaire’s neck, scraped her teeth along the curve of a breast, then sucked a nipple into her mouth while her fingers found the heat between Blaire’s legs.
“This is what I’ve wanted,” Isaline murmured against her skin, circling her clit with maddeningly light strokes. “Not just the race. Not just the chase. You. Like this.”
Blaire’s retort dissolved into a moan as Isaline finally pushed two fingers inside. Her body bowed off the bed as her short nails scored red lines across Isaline’s back. “Oh. My. God.”
Isaline crooked her fingers just so, her thumb pressing down on her clit in tandem, and Blaire came with a shout she barely recognized as her own.
Pleasure crashed through her in relentless waves.
Her vision blurred at the edges as she clutched at Isaline’s shoulders, riding it out until she was weak beneath the Swiss star.
When she finally opened her eyes, Isaline was watching her with a smugness that should’ve been annoying but was somehow endearing. “Still think you’re in control, gold medalist?”
Blaire growled, dragging her down into a kiss that tasted of shared satisfaction. “Always,” she muttered as she released a laugh.
They lay cramped together in the small bed as their breathing gradually slowed.
The room was still warm with the scent of them.
Blaire pressed her face into the crook of Isaline’s neck, breathing in her sweet shampoo, tropical-scented lotion, and a personal scent uniquely hers.
“Switzerland better not want you back too soon,” she mumbled, half into Isaline’s skin.
Isaline chuckled, tracing idle patterns over Blaire’s spine. “I think they will lock me out of the country if my teammates tell them I have slept with the enemy. So, you’re stuck with me, Hollis. Better get used to it.”
Blaire tightened her arm around Isaline’s waist, hiding her smile against her shoulder. For once, the future didn’t feel like an empty slope—just a path they’d possibly be able to carve together.
Later, tangled in the thin, sweat-warm sheets, Blaire didn’t shift to untangle herself.
She lay on her side with one arm draped over Isaline’s waist. Her fingertips traced lazy spirals along the small of her back.
The urge to calculate an exit, to nudge Isaline toward the door with polite excuses, never came.
Instead, she pressed a kiss to the nape of Isaline’s neck, soft and unscripted, and let the quiet hold them both. For once, she wanted the woman to stay.
For a brief moment, the old familiar script began to scroll through her mind.
This was the part where she’d always pulled back, created a sliver of space, and made a joke about recovery times and the need for eight solid hours of sleep.
The words formed, ready to be spoken, ready to gently nudge Isaline toward the door.
But the words died on her tongue before they could escape her mouth.
Isaline shifted and pressed her cheek softly against Blaire’s shoulder. Her breathing was slow and even.
“I want you to stay,” Blaire heard herself say.
The words felt foreign and fragile in the quiet room.
“Tomorrow’s just press and getting ready for the closing ceremonies.
No one will bother us.” She swallowed. “I’d rather face the day tired with you here than rested and alone.
In fact, if I really had my way, I’d love for you to stay for longer than just the night. ”
Isaline lifted her head, her eyes searching Blaire’s face for the punchline, the catch she’d been trained to expect.
When she found none, her body softened and melted against Blaire with a sigh that was pure trust. An arm slid around Blaire’s waist, staking a comfortable claim.
“We’ll have to see what I can do about that,” Isaline whispered.
Blaire tucked the thin blanket around them both. It was a small, protective gesture she had never made for anyone else. Letting Isaline stay felt more raw, more exposed than any downhill run. It was an admission that this night wasn’t a finish line; it was a start.
Long after Isaline’s breathing deepened into sleep, Blaire lay awake. Her gaze fixed on the drawer where the medal lay hidden. She couldn’t help but think, with equal parts wonder and terror, that this felt as much like winning as the medal did.