Page 21 of Icing the Cougar
I kiss down her stomach and taste the sweat pooling between her breasts. She moans and arches into me, trembling. My mouth moves lower, and I feel her trying to pull me closer. She’s not holding back.
She says my name like it’s new on her tongue.
I trail kisses up to her mouth as she pulls me under, and then we roll. Her legs wrap around my waist. I feel her heat, feel how wet she is for me.
"Jasper," she gasps, and I don’t want to stop.
I’m slow and careful, sliding into her. I watch her face for the breaking point, the place I can’t follow.
Trinity moans and moves with me, every inch, every beat of her heart.
We hold on, together and apart, bodies and nerves and wants. It’s more than I thought possible. It’s more than I’ve ever let it be.
I feel her tighten, and I know she’s close. I want to bring her there and hold her until she knows I won’t let her go. Until I know I can be there.
She clings to me, bucking and shaking. Her eyes flash and fill with light, the same light I had before the game.
She cries out, my name breaking apart as she finishes.
I don’t want to let go. I do. I can’t help it. I groan and bury myself inside her, everything I have, everything she thinks I am.
We stay like that, holding, breathing, touching. It’s enough. It’s everything.
Then she sighs, and I think I hear her say, "Stay."
I don’t ask if she means it.
Chapter 12
Trinity
Mid-morning is my favorite time in the studio as the sun warms the space through the glass. I pull the pale rose silks down from the ceiling, feeling their weight and remembering the first time I tried this with anyone but myself. I haven’t even set the mats before Jasper slams the front door behind him, rattling the windows like he wants the whole block to know he’s here.
He’s wearing a faded Chicago Blades t-shirt that hugs his biceps tight, with gym shorts and old, battered Adidas. Hair still wet from the shower. He stops just inside, blinks in the sunlight, and looks around at the empty studio.
"You're late," I say, not even trying to hide my smile.
"I set the alarm," he grumbles. "It’s the city that’s slow, not me."
I smirk and gesture at the suspended silks. "Excuses. Are you ready to learn something, or just here to break your neck?"
He crosses his arms, making his muscles bulge, as if that’s going to scare me. "I’m not afraid of a little acrobatics." Yet, the tone of his voice is a little less cocky and more… uncertain.
"You say that now," I tease. "Wait until you’re upside down with nothing but fabric and luck holding you up."
He gives me a look. "I’d be holding on to you, if I could."
"That’s not how it works." I laugh.
I grab his wrist and pull him toward the mat. The heat of his hand surprises me as it sends a shock through my whole arm. Last night’s memories are still fresh on my mind but today is about control.
"First, you stretch and warm up," I instruct and lead him through a yoga sequence he can barely keep up with. He groans at the hip openers and makes faces at the planks. I ignore his grumbling, only correcting his form when he tries to cheat by going faster. "Slower. Feel it," I say, which earns me an eye roll and a muttered, "That’s what you said last night, too."
When we finish, he’s breathing a little faster, and his hair is sticking to his forehead. "Are you trying to kill me?"
"You’re funny, Mr. Pro Athlete. Plus, if you can’t handle yoga, you’re not going to survive the silks." I walk over to the long pink fabric hanging from the beam, tugging on it so it flutters and spins. "Let’s see what you’ve got."
He grabs the silk with both hands and gives it a tug, like he expects it to come loose. When it doesn’t, he shrugs and looks to me for direction. "Now what?"
