Page 41 of A Touch of Frost
“Abigail…”
“You can’t stop now.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.” I managed.
“It’s been a while.”
I smiled and kissed her. “You need to trust me, Abigail or your body won’t want anything to do with me right now.”
“Give me a moment.”
I gave her all the time she needed until I could slide all the way into her. When she took me entirely, I groaned, loving her wetness, her tightness and the way she dragged her nails down my back.
The harder I rode her, the more her inhibition vanished, the louder she called out to me.
Each time she climaxed around me, it was as if her body was controlling me—pushing my eyes into the back of my head, curling my toes, and pushing her name from my lips.
I kissed her, licked at her nipples—trying to find something to keep me from going completely insane. I tried pressing my face into her neck, between her breasts, against the side of her head to stop my body from combusting.
Nothing worked.
I pulled her from one position to another, feeling my body changed the deeper each caused me to slip into her. When she towered over me, her red hair raining down her back and strands against her pink nipples, I couldn’t believe how beautiful she looked to me in that moment.
By the time my world shattered around me, I was too far gone. Her body was the sexiest I’d ever held into my arms and I knew this couldn’t be the only time I had her like this.
We slumped together on the bed, both panting. She cuddled into my chest and I wrapped my arms around her, holding her, feeling her heart beat against me. When I kissed her head, she moaned my name and snuggled closer.
“That was—” I sighed. “Amazing. What was that thing with your tongue?”
Frost giggled. “Could we not talk about that?”
“Are you still shy?”
“Well, yeah.”
I laughed and kissed her head again. “We have to do that again—that’s all I’m trying to say.”
“You mean.” She sat up and pulled the sheets up to cover her breasts. “You want to do that again?”
I trailed a finger up her arm to where the sheet was against her chest. “Tell me about your ex—was your last Mozart?”
She bowed her head. “No. Mozart was supposed to have been my first.”
“Supposed?”
Frost curled her legs to the side to scoot off the bed.
“We can change the subject.” I told her. “I don’t want you to go.”
She stopped and stared down at me on the bed. I lifted a hand to her and was surprised when she accepted it and climbed back in beside me.
“I had a thing for Mozart. We didn’t work out.” She confided.
“Do you still love him?”
“It will never go away.” Frost told me truthfully. “But it has morphed into a different kind of love. He’ll always be a part of my life, no matter what I do. It’s just nothing will happen between us.”
“Are you disappointed?”
