She rises on her toes and kisses me softly. I tighten my hold on her, pulling her closer, kissing her again, longer this time. The cold fades and the world narrows. Her hands slide to my chest. My breath grows heavy as her lips part. We kiss slow and deep, emotion in every stroke.
When she pulls back, she’s breathing hard. “God, you still do this to me.”
I smirk. “Do what?”
“Make me forget my name.”
“You don’t need it right now.”
She raises a brow. “Oh? And what do I need?”
“Less clothing.”
Her cheeks flush in the moonlight. “Saxon…”
I lift an eyebrow. “Come on, sweetheart. Last time we skinny-dipped out here was what, a year after Mason was born?”
She laughs into my chest. “We were almost caught.”
“Worth it.”
Her breath trembles—because she knows exactly where this is going. “Saxon, it’s freezing.”
“I’ll keep you warm.”
She bites her lip. Hard. “You’re impossible.”
“And you love it.”
She rolls her eyes, but her smile gives her away. “If we get frostbite?—”
“I’ll rescue you. Again.”
I slide my hands down her sides, tugging her closer, brushing my lips against her ear.
“Let me undress you,” I whisper.
Her breath stutters.
There it is.
I step back just enough to watch her face as I slide my fingers to the hem of her coat. “Say no and I’ll stop.”
She swallows. “I’m not saying no.”
My smile is slow. Dangerous. Certain. “Good.”
I unbutton her coat, one slow button at a time, knuckles grazing her stomach. She trembles beneath my touch, breath catching with each inch of skin exposed to the cold air—and my hands.
When the coat opens, I slip it from her shoulders. She shivers but not from the cold. I tug her sweater up next. She lifts her arms without hesitation, lips parted, eyes on mine the whole time. Her shirt hits the snow and her skin gleams in the moonlight, soft and pale and perfect. My hands roam her sides—slow, reverent, possessive.
“Saxon,” she whispers, voice shaking.
“I’ve got you.”
My fingers slide to the button of her jeans.
“Still good?” I murmur.
