I rock against her,moving slow and deep, feeling her pulse around me with every thrust. The tent walls ripple in the wind, the wild Arctic breeze raging outside while we’re cocooned in here together, warm skin against warm skin.
“This is actually pretty romantic,” she breathes, her voice hitching as I push deeper inside her. The sleeping bag rustles beneath us with every movement.
“Even if I can’t feel my toes.” She giggles. “I hope I don’t lose one, like you.”
I let out a rough laugh despite being close to the edge. “If you lose a bloody toe to frostbite while I’m buried inside you, I’ll never forgive myself.”
I pause, braced above her on my forearms, holding myself still inside her, and look down at her face. The light filtering through the tent fabric catches on her features. Her cheeks are flushed pink from the cold and from us, her eyes bright with pleasure, hair spread across the sleeping bag in wild tangles.
“What?” she whispers. Her hands flutter uncertainly on my shoulders.
“You’re beautiful.”
She wrinkles her nose. “I’m a disaster. My hair’s a mess, and I’m pretty sure I have pillow creases on my face, and—”
I dip my head down and kiss her to silence her, swallowing whatever other protests she was about to make. “You’re beautiful,” I repeat against her lips, rougher this time. “Stop arguing with me.”
“Okay.” She smiles that soft, genuine smile that feels like a gift every time. “But only because you’re being very persuasive right now.”
I drive into her again, harder.
“I love you,” I growl against her mouth. Against her temple. Against her throat where I can feel her pulse jumping. “I love you.”
I can’t seem to stop saying it now.
“I love you too.” She cups my face, thumb stroking my cheekbone. “I can’t believe you’re here. That this is real.”
“I’m here. Not going anywhere.” I thrust deeper, watching her eyes go hazy. “Never.”
“Oh God,Patrick.”
Her words dissolve into a moan as I pick up the pace, and I watch her face transform.
The self-consciousness melts away, replaced by an open, unguarded pleasure that I only ever want her to show me. No other man.
“Patrick,” she whimpers, fingers sliding into my hair, tugging hard. “Please, I need—”
“I know what you need, sweetheart.”
I shift my weight to one arm, muscles burning with the effort of holding myself up, and reach between us with the other hand to find that perfect spot. The second I touch her there, her whole body jolts beneath me.
“Yes, God, yes.” She trembles, thighs shaking against my hips. “Don’t stop, please don’t stop.”
Her back arches off the sleeping bag, lifting toward me, mouth falling open, eyes squeezed shut. I feel her clench around me, pulsing, her body shuddering with it.
“That’s it,” I murmur against her ear, working her through it. “Fucking perfect.”
She breaks apart beneath me, crying out my name, and it’s better than standing on top of any mountain in the world.
I bury my face in her neck, breathing her in.
“Georgie,” I groan, rhythm turning erratic. She pulses around me, and every whimper drives me closer. “Fuck, I’m…”
I thrust into her as deep as I can go, and come hard. It rips through me, making my arms shake with the effort of not crushing her completely.
When I finally surface, I’m dead weight on top of her, but she doesn’t complain. Just keeps stroking my hair, pressing soft kisses wherever she can reach.
“Sorry,” I mumble eventually, trying to shift my weight. “Heavy bastard.”
