His hands grip my hips, not guiding but steadying, his fingers pressing into my skin just shy of bruising. My own handsrest on his shoulders, feeling the tension in his muscles as he holds himself still, the coiled strength there waiting, patient and controlled despite the heat between us.
I lift up slightly, then sink back down, testing the movement. The slide of him inside me draws a gasp from my lips, the fullness both too much and not enough. Nathan's breath hisses between his teeth, a flash of vulnerability crossing his otherwise composed features.
His eyes never leave mine, deep blue darkened to midnight, pupils blown wide with desire.
I do it again, lifting up until he's almost gone before sinking back down completely, establishing a slow, deliberate rhythm that has us both breathing harder. A thin sheen of sweat forms where our skin meets.
His hands help guide me now, his control slipping as desire takes over. His fingers dig deeper, lifting me up, pulling me down, our bodies finding a synchronized motion that builds pleasure with each movement. The sounds of our breathing, of skin against skin, of small gasps and bitten-back moans fill the quiet bedroom.
"God, Gloria," he groans when I circle my hips experimentally, testing a new angle. The muscles in his abdomen tighten, his jaw clenched with the effort of restraint. That he's still holding back, still putting my pleasure before his own, makes something clench deep inside me.
I lean down to taste the salt on his neck, my hair falling around us like a curtain. The position changes the angle of our connection, letting him sink impossibly deeper.
My breath catches at the new sensation, the fullness, the perfect friction against every nerve ending. His hands slide up frommy hips to my waist, then higher to cup my breasts, thumbs brushing over sensitive nipples in a way that sends sparks shooting down to where we're joined.
I lean forward to kiss him. His mouth opens beneath mine, tongues meeting in the same rhythm as our bodies. My thighs tremble with the effort of maintaining our pace, muscles burning sweetly as pleasure builds to almost unbearable heights.
Nathan seems to notice the change in my breathing, the way my inner muscles clench around him. He shifts his hips to hit that spot again, angling upward as I push down.
"There?" he asks against my lips, voice strained with his own building pleasure. A bead of sweat trails down his temple, disappearing into his hair. His hands return to my hips, holding me steady as he thrusts up to meet me, the careful restraint from earlier giving way to raw need.
"Yes," I gasp, my movements becoming less coordinated as sensation takes over. "Don't stop, please—right there."
He takes control then, guiding my hips with firm hands while pushing up into me. The rhythm quickens, grows more desperate as we chase release together. One of his hands slides between us, finding where we're joined, his thumb circling in counterpoint to our movements.
My head falls back, exposing my throat to his mouth as the pressure builds to an almost unbearable peak. His lips find my pulse point, teeth grazing gently before soothing with his tongue.
I come apart in his arms, waves of pleasure so intense they border on overwhelming washing through me.
Nathan follows almost immediately, his rhythm faltering, his arms tightening around me as he buries his face against my neck, my name a rough groan against my skin.
We stay like that for long moments, still joined, his forehead resting against mine, our breathing gradually slowing. I can feel his heart hammering against my chest, matching the rapid pace of my own. Neither of us seems willing to move, to break the connection.
The room is quiet except for our breathing, gradually synchronizing in the dark. Nathan's arm wraps around my waist, drawing me against the solid wall of his chest, his nose nuzzling into my hair.
"Cold?" he asks as a small shiver runs through me.
"No," I murmur, pressing closer. "Just... processing."
His hand strokes slowly up and down my side, from hip to ribs and back, a soothing, rhythmic motion. "Regrets?"
I turn in his arms to face him, finding his features barely visible in the dim light from the window. "Not a single one," I say honestly. "You?"
His hand comes up to brush hair from my face, tucking it behind my ear with surprising tenderness. "No."
I trace the line of his jaw, feeling the stubble rasp against my fingertips. "Stay," I say softly, not ready to lose the warmth of him, the solid presence beside me.
His arm tightens around me, drawing me closer until I'm tucked perfectly against him, my head fitting neatly under his chin, our legs tangled beneath the sheets. "I'm not going anywhere."
I press a kiss to his chest, right over his heart, feeling the strong, steady beat beneath my lips. His hand comes up to tangle in my hair, gentle despite its size and strength.
I feel his breathing deepen, his body relaxing into sleep, and I smile against his skin. Nathan Cross, the stoic paramedic, the grumpy ex-military medic who caught everyone's attention but gave his own so rarely, is falling asleep in my bed, his guard completely lowered.
It feels like victory. It feels like trust.
As sleep begins to claim me too, I'm aware of a peculiar certainty settling in my chest—that whatever this is between us, it's only just beginning. That the heat and connection we've found in each other's bodies is merely the surface of something deeper, something with roots that might, given time, grow strong enough to weather any storm.
But those are thoughts for tomorrow. For now, I let myself drift off in Nathan's arms, surrounded by his warmth and strength, snow continuing to fall outside like a silent blessing on this unexpected night.
