Page 19 of Hotter on Ice

“You ever get off thinking about me?” she whispered.

Shit. He shouldn’t admit to it, but this game was too tempting. “I tried not to,” he gritted out. “But, fuck, you get me so hard.”

She played with the hem of her thermal shirt, then slowly lifted it over her head. Henning braced himself against the wall and stroked himself hard. He was caught in a sea of lust, drowning. Her breasts were small, and her nipples, a delicate pink. He looked down at his hand, rough and big, crassly jacking himself as he watched the most achingly beautiful woman in the world strip. Just for him. Beauty and the beast. The contrast sent a dark swirl of lust and depravity through him. Did it turn her on, too?

“You want this hand on you?” he rasped, pulling down the waistband of his boxers, letting her see each rough jerk of his hand. “The one I use to make myself come when I jack off to you?”

Her mouth fell open a little, and for one long second, he thought he had gone too far. But just as a jolt of fear entered his system, a fear that despite his caution, he had stepped over the line, she smiled. It was a real smile that broke through their game, wide-eyed and full of wonder. Fuck, it was glorious.

Her expression turned seductive. “I like it a little dirty.”

The message echoed inside him, urging him on. Yes, she wanted this. She traced the curve of her body down, over her hips, her fingers inside her thermal bottoms. She lowered them, stepping out, and when she stood up, his cock jumped in his hand.

“Nude.” The word fell out of his mouth as he stared between her legs.

Alya’s real smile peeked through again. “Occupational hazard. Are you into that?”

Henning’s chuckle was a gritty rumble. “I’m intoyou, Alya. Everything about you.”

A hint of pink colored her cheeks, sending a stab of tenderness through him. It was almost as if she wasn’t used to hearing someone tell her how amazing she was. How was that possible? He resolved to tell her as many times as he could.

But right now, he was going to show her. His cock was weeping, as he looked at this beautiful woman in front of him.

“You gonna let me put my dirty mouth on that beautiful pussy?” he whispered, his voice rough. “You gonna give me a taste?”

“Yes,” she breathed. “Give me what I need.”

Give her what she needs. Don’t fuck it up.

Holy hell, that smile was going to bring him to his knees. It was soft, so private, a secret just for him. Now that he knew what it was like to have her all to himself, he could never go back to looking for her in a magazine. Not when he knewthis.

“Christ, you’re lovely,” he whispered.

Her eyes fluttered closed, as if hearing these simple words had given her pleasure. Then she turned, glancing over her shoulder as she walked toward the bed. And, fuck, this woman knew how to walk for an audience. She knew how to make each slow sultry step a new promise. And this time, the promise was for him.

She climbed on the bed, her ass arched up to him. But she did this with a kind of effortless grace. It was nothing like the women he had fucked in the club, pretending to be someone else, just for that night. This was part of her. Alya lay down on her side, propping her head on her hand. “You coming?”

Henning nodded, but he didn’t move. Not yet. First, he needed to take in every bit of this moment, storing it away in his memory, saving it. In the years to come, he wanted to remember how this felt. When once, for a few short days, he had her all to himself.

There was no hesitancy in the way she lay there looking at him. He loved this confident, hot-as-hell side of her. And after watching her bloom from that dark place Nick had driven her into, he wanted this confidence to fill her until she was bursting at the edges with it. He was going to make sure this was for her.

Henning followed the curves of her body, along her thighs, over her hips, down the dip of her waist and over the curve of her pert tits, up the slim column of her neck, and finally, to her smile. Alya waited, lounging on the bed, watching him, her expression full of lazy desire, like they had all the time in the world. But the flush in her cheeks hinted at other possibilities. That she was aching for him, too.

“You are stunning,” said Henning, his voice a little hoarse. “It’syou, Alya, not just the way you look. It’s everything about you.”

She blinked at him with a hint of surprise. Her cheeks flushed, and then she smiled. “Then why are you still across the room?”

“I want to enjoy this part. When you look at me like it’s my mouth you want, no one else’s.” His voice dipped lower. “I want to savor it.”

Another sharp jolt of urgent lust shot through him, and he palmed his cock and gave that impatient bastard another rough stroke.

It had been so long since he had gone down on a woman. Years, despite how much he got off on it. Since that first kiss with Alya, he had been thinking about it. What would she like best? What would she sound like? Now, finally,finally, he would find out. And oh, God, how he ached to know.

He took one slow step, then another, watching each reaction from her, the parting of her lips, the quickening of her pulse as he came closer, closer. Henning pulled off his top and bottoms, but he left his boxers on. Then he knelt on the bed, one knee on one side of her, one knee on the other. She rolled onto her back, and he lowered himself onto his forearms until he could feel the heat of her skin under him. Until her quick breaths warmed his cheeks. Because beneath all this beauty was so much emotion. She had been burned. Nick had used her emotions against her, trying to manipulate her, to drive her back to him. What Henning could give her right now, on this bed, was a safe place to let that guard down and simply feel. And fuck, he had so many plans for how to make her feel.

He bent his head and pressed his lips to her pale, slim neck, exposed just for him. Heaven. He kissed her jaw and then her lips.

“You smell so fucking good,” he murmured, looking down at her.