Page 210 of Frost and Death
He sucks on my fingers, the two of us moaning from the act. His eyes are hooded, filled with need.
I pull my fingers out of his mouth. “I can finish this. Can you?” I challenge, committing myself to him for one night before losing him forever.
One night of everything I want and then damage control.
I peel away from his lap to stand, silently pleading he will give me what I want.
Jerrick watches me pull my dress to cover my breasts, and my upper thighs are exposed from the slit in my skirt.
I take my time adjusting, wanting him to see—needinghim to see how much I want this.
How much I want him and what he does to me.
Jerrick reaches for me. “Tove.”
My chest swells as he uses my given name. It is so foreign yet so perfect. It only expands my love and need for him more.
I rock my head back to the ceiling, grinning.
I release a long breath before gazing at him, my soul calling to his. “Say my name again,” I beg.
Jerrick breathes, a small smirk gracing his features as he stands. He comes up to me, craning my neck up to meet him.
“Tove,” he murmurs, pulling me in for another kiss.
I melt into Jerrick, holding him tight. He picks me up, and I lock my legs around his waist and fasten my arms around his neck, our mouths clashing against each other.
He kisses me deeply and he carries me away from the piano room.
I can’t hide the cheeky grin plastered along my face as he takes me up a set of stairs. “Where are you taking me?” I try to ask seductively.
“Somewhere private where only I can enjoy the sound of you,” he purrs, and cold sweat trickles down my spine as I bite my lip at the thrill of that promise.
44
Every Touch
We reach Jerrick’s bedchamber, and he kicks the door open with his leg, entering the room without breaking our kisses.
He sets me down on his bed. “Don’t move.”
I nod sheepishly as he turns to close the door. It creaks closed, and we are alone in his room for the second time. Memories on our wedding night come to mind, and the phantom touch of his hands on me has me scooting my ass closer toward the edge of the bed with anticipation.
I lean back as Jerrick twists, slipping off his boots. I bite my lip as my heart hammers against my chest, and my nipples tighten.
He takes a step toward me.
I move to rise, eager to have him touching me. “Jer—”
But he halts my efforts. “Wait,” he commands.
I obey.
He removes his belt, draping it on the chair next to the bed. He crosses his arms, lifting his tunic over his head.
My mouth falls.
His pecs and abs are sculpted and crafted to perfection. I love watching his arms work as he squishes his tunic into a ball, tossing it to the side without a care of where it lands.
