Nate’s eyes darken with desire, and he nods, understanding my unspoken request. His free hand slides down my back, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. When his fingers brush against my entrance, I gasp, my body arching into his touch.
“You have a little hungry hole, don’t you?” he murmurs, his voice husky with want.
“God yes,” I breathe, pressing back against his hand.
He circles my hole with his finger, the touch featherlight but electrifying. I’m trembling now, caught between the incredible sensation of his hand on our cocks and the teasing promise of his finger.
I want to tell him how amazing this feels, but words fail me as he slowly pushes his finger inside. The stretch burns slightly, but in the best way possible. I moan, low and desperate, burying my face in the crook of his neck.
“That’s it,” Nate encourages, working his finger in and out slowly. “Let go for me, Caspian.”
The dual stimulation is overwhelming. I’m lost in a haze of pleasure, my hips rocking between Nate’s stroking hand and his probing finger. The tension builds rapidly, coiling tighter and tighter in my core.
“Nate, I’m close,” I pant against his skin. “I’m gonna?—”
“Come for me,” he urges, curling his finger just right.
That’s all it takes. The dam breaks, and I come hard. Waves of ecstasy crash over me, leaving me trembling and gasping in Nate’s arms. Through the haze of my release, I hear Nate’s sharp intake of breath, feel the way his body tenses against mine, and then his release joins mine between us.
For a moment, we stay as we are, catching our breath. I must be heavy on his lap, but he’s not pushing me away, so I’m going to take advantage.
I turn my head to look at Nate, taking in his flushed cheeks and mussed hair. A bubble of laughter rises in my chest.
“What’s so funny?” Nate asks, his voice husky.
“Nothing,” I say, grinning. “I just…really,reallylike snow days.”
Nate’s face softens, and he pulls me closer. “Me too, Cas. Me too.”
CHAPTER 21
NATE
I wake to the gentle weight of Caspian sprawled across my chest, his dark hair tickling my chin. The pale winter light filtering through the window casts a soft glow across his peaceful features. Three days. We’ve been in this cocoon of warmth and intimacy for three days, sheltered from the world by the winter storm that’s finally passed.
My fingers trace lazy patterns along his spine, remembering how we filled these hours. Board games where he proved surprisingly competitive, cooking adventures that ended in both disaster and triumph, and countless moments just like this—quiet, content, connected.
He stirs against me, dark eyes blinking open. A sleepy smile spreads across his face before he presses a soft kiss to my chest. “Morning,” he mumbles, voice still rough with sleep.
“Morning,” I reply, tightening my arms around him. He shifts, pressing his lips to the curve of my neck, then my jaw, each kiss slow and tender. When he reaches my mouth, I meet him halfway, savoring the gentle press of his lips against mine. We trade lazy kisses, neither of us rushing, both content to exist in this drowsy space between sleep and wakefulness. His fingers trail along my collarbone as I card my hand through his sleep-mussed hair, drawing a contented hum from him.
“You’re like a big, warm teddy bear,” Caspian murmurs against my lips. “I could stay here all day.”
“No complaints here,” I say softly, running my hand down his back. “Though I’m not sure how I feel about being compared to a stuffed animal.”
He chuckles, the sound vibrating against my chest. “Would you prefer mountain man? Rugged woodsman? My personal space heater?”
“Now you’re just getting ridiculous.” I scoff, pulling him closer anyway. “Though I suppose personal space heater isn’t too far off. You run hot enough to be one yourself.”
“Mmm, this is the perfect arrangement,” Caspian murmurs, nuzzling into my neck. “You keep me grounded. I keep you warm.”
I run my fingers through his hair, earning a contented sigh. “Is that why you always end up sprawled on top of me by morning?”
“Obviously. It’s a very sophisticated sleeping strategy.” He props his chin on my chest, looking up at me with those sparkling dark eyes. “Besides, you make an excellent pillow. All”—he pokes my chest playfully—“firm and cozy.”
“Cozy?” I raise an eyebrow. “That’s a new one.”
“Would you prefer sturdy? Robust? Magnificently cushiony?”
