Page 70 of Melt the Ice

“You’re grieving, Lucas, it’s okay.”

His head shakes softly, the sadness returning to his eyes. “No, Lettie. This was the me you met, but it doesn’t feel right to be this way now. This isn’t me anymore.”

His forehead rests against mine, “You deserve better, I deserve better. You’ve been the light at the end of the tunnel through this. And if I’m being honest, I’ve been chasing your light my entire life.”

“Lucas…”

“I know it’s exhausting trying to keep me from going off the deep end, but I appreciate you for it. You are my person, Scarlett Arias. The greatest gift this life has ever given me, and it terrifies the ever-loving hell out of me that I could lose you, too.”

He leans down, pressing his lips gently to mine. But when I press my hands to his back, pushing him more into me, he groans, and I take advantage of it. I swipe my tongue against his as my nails drag down his back. I’m fully aware we’re making out in his best friend’s living room, with half his team in the other room, but I can’t find it in me to care.

I need the feel of him on my skin, I need his lips on mine, I need him to dismantle every one of my fears and fill them with the love that is so uniquely him. “Stay with me tonight?” I say against his lips.

“Gladly.”

I walk out of my room the next morning, confused as to why I woke up alone. The sun is barely awake, the low glow in the sky shines through the blinds of the kitchen, and that's when I see him. Walking toward the back of the house, the steady whipping sound of a rope sounds through the door that he left open, leaving the screen door as the only barrier between us.

I knew he needed to work out, he told me as much last night, said it’d help him fight off the demons in his head. But I figured he’d go run or something, not jump rope with an actual rope from the horse stalls. He’s crafty, I’ll give him that. There’s something grounding about seeing him like this, steady, focused, alive. After all he's lost, all the nights he’s spent just trying to make it to morning, this sight feels like a promise I didn’t know I was waiting for.

Leaning against the wall, I watch as thick forearms attached to agile wrists spin the rope around and around with expert precision. The white of his headphones catches the light with every jump. I wonder what he’s listening to, because whatever it is, he’s jumping to the beat.

This isn’t a quick warm-up, no, he jumps a few times before one heel shoots out, tapping the ground before he twists his hips and does the same on the other foot as if he’s dancing, not jumping over a braided rope that would have taken me out twenty times by now. Then he turns in a circle while bringing his knees up as high as he can, before slowing down and resuming his regular jumps.

I’m not complaining about the private show, though, I mean, damn. His muscles pull taut with every jump, his abs ripple and harden every time his feet hit the dirt.

His hair is pulled up in a half-bun, and the hair at his nape is stuck to the back of his neck. His bare chest glistens with sweat, his gaze trained on the rising sun in the distance, but then he turns in a circle again, and our eyes lock. A smirk pulls at the corner of his deliciously full lips as his head tilts back, silently telling me to join him.

I push through the door, still only in my sleep shorts and a crop top, as my bare feet hit the dewy grass, causing me to shiver. Maybe from the chill of it, or maybe it’s the heat of his gaze as it trails from my head to my toes and back. “Come here.” He says, his voice taking on a dangerously husky tone as he stops jumping and reaches his hand out for me.

I slide my hand in his, and he pulls me into his chest. Before I can protest, he leans down and whispers, “I had a dream last night.” He nips at my ear before softly dragging his lips down my neck. “It started a lot like this.”

“Yeah?” I lean back, giving him more space to cover, “Then what happened?”

His hands slide down my sides, stopping to squeeze my hips before moving lower to the backs of my thighs. He picks me up, ignoring my surprised yelp as he walks us into the horse corral. “I’d rather show you,” he groans as he slides me down the front of his body.

When my feet are solidly on the ground, he holds up the rope he had been jumping with, “Do you trust me?” His eyes hold an intensity I’ve never seen before, desire swirling through them as he licks his lips.

I nod.

“Words, Scarlett. If it’s not an enthusiastic yes, I’ll walk back in the house. It’s either hell yeah or nothing at all.” I see the desperation in his eyes, the one who wants to be loved. The one begging for someone to stay, the one begging me to stay.

“There’s no one I trust more than you, Goldie.” With those few words, his hand lands on the side of my neck, and his lips meet mine. It’s slow and searching, until it’s not. His tongue slides against the seam of my mouth, I open, and his tongue presses against mine.

His hand moves to collar my throat at the same time his teeth trap my bottom lip between them. “On your back,” he mumbles as he kisses the spot his teeth had just held captive. I lie in the dirt, the roughness a stark contrast to the silkiness of my night shorts. “Grab the post.” I do without a second thought.

He drops to his knees, straddling my hips as he leans in and kisses me again. “You have no idea how stunning you are when you obey, Lettie Girl.” My thighs squeeze together at his words. The exchange in power dynamics is something I love about our relationship. He’s not in control all the time. When I want to be, he gladly hands it over.

But I can’t deny there’s something so polarizing about him when he’s like this. All rough and dominant, knowing exactly what he wants, and taking it without apology. My back arches as his nose runs up my neck, “Let me know if this is too tight,” he whispers.

I start to ask what he’s talking about when I feel the roughness of the rope slide around my wrists. I stiffen. For a second, I start to panic, but he doesn’t miss a beat. “Say the word, and I’ll untie you. You aren’t trapped. No and stop are both complete sentences.”

Holy. Shit.

“Let me take care of you like I did in my dream.” He says as he brings one hand to rest on my ribs under my shirt. “Please, baby.”

And just like that, I’m a goner. “Show me,” I say as my voice shakes. Not from fear, from pure desire. There has never been anyone on the planet who makes me feel this way. This has never felt good with anyone else.

This is love. Raw and real, I feel it in every movement he makes against me. Every swipe of his tongue against my body, every pass of his fingers as he runs his hands up and down my sides. Every sound he lets free as he comes undone for me, just as I do for him.