Page 102 of ICED
“More than.”
She strips me down with trembling fingers, but there’s nothing rushed about it. Just reverence. Curiosity. A quiet hunger that’s been building between us for weeks.
When I peel her top off, her breath catches. I kiss every inch of skin I uncover, slow and careful and full of things I’m not brave enough to say yet.
She unclasps her bra and I just stop and look.
“You’re stunning,” I whisper.
The rest of our clothes come off in pieces, like unwrapping something sacred. My hands worship her like she’s the only thing that’s ever mattered. Her body, her breath, the quiet way she says my name like she’s telling me a secret.
When I finally slide into her, it’s not just physical. It’s emotional. Soul-deep. She gasps, head tipping back, legs wrapping around me, fingers tangled in my hair.
“Owen,” she moans, and it nearly undoes me.
I move slowly, letting us both feel everything. Every inch, every shift, every moment of skin on skin. Her body clutches mine like it’s been waiting. Like we’re meant to fit. I run my hand gently up her side, tracing the shape of her beneath me. My palm settles over her breast, and I knead it gently. Teasing her nipple into a hard peak before my lips close around it. My tongue laps at the firm bud and I revel in the feel of her naked against my skin.
She rocks against me with desperate rhythm, hips meeting mine, breathy whimpers leaving her lips. I kiss her neck, her jaw, her collarbone, anywhere I can reach. I allow my hand to roam lower until I find her slick clit, and begin to tease her with my thumb while I push deeper inside her.
Maya claws at my back, teeth grazing my shoulder. “Owen…please…don’t stop.”
“I won’t,” I murmur against her mouth. “Not ever.”
She arches beneath me, hair fanned out across the pillow, sweat-slick and beautiful. Her thighs tighten around my hips and I feel her clench, falling apart around me.
“Oh…fuck…Owen!”
Her orgasm rips through her and I follow seconds later, burying myself deep and groaning her name into the crook of her neck. It’s like breaking apart and being rebuilt in the same heartbeat.
Afterwards, we lie tangled together, skin sticky, breath heavy. Her head rests on my chest, and I can feel her smiling against my skin.
Her fingers draw lazy, meaningless shapes across my stomach. “You staying in the bed from now on?” she murmurs.
“Only if the boss approves.”
“I think she’ll make you do morning pancake duty in exchange.”
“Deal.”
She tilts her head up, kisses me again. Slow. Sweet. Sated.
“Welcome home, Owen.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
MAYA
The sun hasn’t even considered rising yet. The room is still cloaked in that grey-blue wash of early morning, but there’s just enough light to trace the lines of Owen’s body sprawled beside me. He’s on his back, one arm flung over his head, mouth slightly parted, his soft snores a gentle rumble against the quiet.
He looks peaceful. Ridiculously handsome. And far too clothed for my liking.
I bite my lip, propping myself up on one elbow as I shift under the covers. Last night still lingers on my skin, the ache between my legs delicious, my body heavy in that post-orgasm haze. But I’m greedy. I want more.
Quiet as a cat, I ease the duvet down, exposing his torso, the covers pooling at his hips. His skin is warm, golden in the faint morning light. I press a kiss to his chest, just above his heart, and feel it thump against my lips.
He shifts but doesn’t wake.
Good.
