He took the time to gently kiss the corner of my mouth, the top of my collarbone, everywhere his mouth could reach. And his hands? Fucking hell, they were smooth and cold and rushing under my clothes to touch my skin, to caress my breasts, to knead my ass. Every touch soothing and relaxing and winding me up at the same time.
So much so I found myself rocking on top of him, fully adjusted to the size of him.
“God,” I moaned, the feel of him bare inside me was like nothing I’d ever experienced before. The slick, hard length.
The way we moved together.
The way he seemed to touch me in every spot I didn’t even know I had.
It was enough to send my head spinning.
“Look at me, Harper,” he demanded, and I opened my eyes.
Nathan.
My friend.
My boyfriend.
Mine.
Surrounded by the crisp snow and pine trees that coated his scent no matter how long he’d been away from this place, I looked down at him, and everything inside me shifted and twisted, clamped down on that current of energy pulsing white-hot between us.
And the look in his eyes as he gripped my hips and hefted upward as I sank on top him?
It was like a lightning strike.
My lightning strike.
“I love the way you feel around me,” he said, never breaking his gaze. “I love to watch you fuck me.” He slid his eyes downward, to the exact spot where I was rocking on top of him, seeking out that sweet release as much as I was drawing out the moment. “You’re stunning,” he said.
“You feel so damn good, Nathan,” I said, quickening my pace, unable to keep it slow for a second longer. “You have no idea how good you feel.” The words were a moan from my lips.
He palmed my ass with both hands, content to hang on as I rode him, working us both up so much it was an effort not to scream.
“Fuck, yes,” he hissed. “Harper.”
“Oh, God,” I moaned, feeling him harden inside me, his angle deepening as he used his leverage on my ass to help me move. Help me hit that goddamn spot that made me see stars. A coiled spring, tightening, winding up until—
“Nathan, please,” I moaned when he’d slowed me down, the sheer strength of the man sending warm shivers along my oversensitive skin. He smirked, sliding his tongue between my lips before he propelled me down again.
The man was playing my body like an instrument.
Extending that sweet note before taking me to a crescendo.
“Yes,” he said, squeezing harder. “I’m going to take you there.”
The primal tone in his words flooded my body with heat—electric, sparking, heat.
“Now.”
The word could’ve been a command or coincidence, but he unleashed me, allowing me to go at him hard and fast, and the tension on that string he controlled caught fire and snapped.
I leaned forward and bit his shoulder, not wanting to let out the scream climbing my throat as my orgasm tore through me. As my body pulsed and quaked and shook until his own release followed seconds later.
I continued to move on him, slowly, languidly, until we caught our breath—breath that we could see in white puffs because of the cold surrounding us.
But underneath the blanket?
Where our bodies met?
We were on fire.
And all I could think was how much I loved to burn.
Chapter 13
Noble
“Morning, Ma.” I kissed Mom on the cheek just before I hit start on the blender. The whirring sound filled the kitchen, and she shook her head as she filled her coffee cup.
Didn’t matter how many times I’d offered to buy her a new coffee maker, she always told me the old one worked just fine, duct tape on the water reserve lid and all. As much as it killed me to know I could more than afford to fix that for my parents, I also loved that having two kids playing professional sports hadn’t changed them.
I stopped the blender at the desired consistency and reached for two insulated mugs.
“Is that green?” Mom asked, giving my smoothie the side eye.
“Yep. Kale does that.” I poured the smoothies into the mugs as Mom doctored her coffee.
“Well, I guess whatever floats your boat. Are you headed out with Nixon?” She leaned back against the counter to face me as I washed out the blender.
“Yeah. Figured I should since he’s leaving at noon.”
“I appreciate you two not fighting all week. It’s been really...nice.” She sipped at her coffee, looking at me over her cup in that way she had.
Nixon and I hadn’t fought because we’d both been on our best behavior. Not that we didn’t get along, we just didn’t always approve of each other’s life choices, which led to...well, fighting. Because nothing hurts quite like watching someone you love more than yourself fuck up their life.