Page 44 of Hearts on Ice
When she came back out of the bathroom, she carried the scent of his soap, and he found that sexy as hell.
“Do you want a glass of wine?” he asked, hoping she said no.
She shook her head and crossed the room to him, reaching up to stroke his hair as she moved into his arms.
“I have that little package for you,” he reminded her.
“Already taken care of.” Her breath caressed his lips before she pulled his head down to kiss him.
He didn’t waste time, the blood already thrumming in his veins. He reached down to sweep her into his arms and nudged the bedroom door open with his shoulder.
He placed her on the bed and lowered himself over her in the same motion. Only a few hours had passed, but he was hungry for her, nudging her legs open, lowering himself between them before kissing her, teasing her lips apart and realizing she had used his toothbrush, too. He smiled against her mouth, then descended her body, eager to get to the treat she had in store for him.
Ah, hell, he’d forgotten how hard her top was to take off. He pushed it up to expose her breasts, but before he could kiss her bare skin, she curled into a sitting position and stripped the snug knit over her head. Then she hooked her heels around the backs of his knees, wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him, like she’d been thinking about this, too. Like she’d longed for the taste of him all day.
He returned her kiss until he could no longer resist the lure of her soft skin, the curve of her jaw, the line of her throat. God, she smelled amazing, even after being on the ice all day. He slid his mouth down her collarbone, lifting her breast to his mouth at the same time.
The sound she made, half pant, half moan, hit him right in the gut. He released her breast and kissed his way down her belly, peeling her leggings down, exposing the edible thong, riding low on her hips. His mouth dried right up, and he sat back on his heels to look at her.
Perfection.
But she frowned, reached toward him, drawing him out of himself. He dropped to his elbows, trailed his fingertips over the top of the underwear. He felt her catch her breath.
“What are you waiting for?” she asked.
“Not sure where to start.” He considered, then closed his teeth over the strap at her hip and tugged.
He was literally able to lift her hips from the mattress, the gummy substance was so hard. He opened his mouth to release it, and it stuck to his teeth a bit before he abandoned that plan and kissed the triangle right over her mound.
She made a sound of approval and rose toward him, parting her thighs a little more in encouragement. He ran his tongue up, over her clit beneath the rubbery panties, and she reached down to twine her fingers through his hair, moving against him.
The very first time, their very first sexual encounter, he’d kissed her through her cotton panties and made her come. That power, the power of giving her pleasure, and the way she’d repaid him had made that one of the best days of his life.
He’d rather have the taste of her on his tongue than this cough-syrup-flavored thing, but he was committed, and she was clearly enjoying his efforts. He teased her with a bite at the waistband, tearing a strip off, spitting it over the side of the bed instead of wasting the time chewing it. He took another bite and peeled off another strip, baring her to him. He flattened his tongue and stroked it over her skin before dipping between her folds. God, yes, the taste of her. He dove deeper and she bowed off the bed, his name a keening cry from her throat.
God, he loved hearing that sound, and he parted her legs wider, licking his way up the length of her, teasing her clit and retreating, until she shuddered with need. He clamped his lips over her clit then, flicking his tongue over it until he felt her come apart beneath him. He held on and dragged out her pleasure, until he felt her body go limp.
He broke off the remaining panties and tossed them onto the floor, then levered himself over her to kiss her mouth. She wound her arms around his neck and returned his kiss, her movements languid, sleepy, while his body strained, aching to be inside her.
And then she clamped something around his wrist.
He broke the kiss to turn his head and look at the leopard print cuff circling his wrist. He looked back at her, her eyes dancing in delight.
“On your back,” she ordered, wriggling beneath him.
He shut his eyes tight, fighting for control. “Oh, much more of that and we’ll be done.”
She arched her eyebrow. “Then follow orders.”
“Seems like we did this already.”
“Not this,” she said, her tone full of promise.
He liked that tone, so he flipped onto his back. She took his other hand, guided it up toward the head of the bed. He strained to look up as she looped the handcuffs around the corner post and cuffed his other hand.
“I can get loose, you know.”
“No you can’t.”
