“I can hardly believe it.”
“Neither can I.” He reaches over and cups my face in his hands. “But I know what I want now.”
“What do you want?”
“You. All of you.”
He kisses me then, deeper and more urgent than he ever has before. My heart races. I can taste the relief on his lips, the joy, the promise of finally being free to be together without fear.
He gets out of the car and walks around to my side, opening the door and helping me out. The night air is cold, and I shiver.
“Come here,” he says, opening the back door of the patrol car.
The back seat is bigger than I expected, and Sawyer has a blanket from his emergency kit that he spreads across the seat. He sits down and pulls me onto his lap, his hands immediately going to my face.
He kisses me again, his hands sliding under my sweater, his palms warm against my skin. I arch into his touch, months of wanting and waiting finally finding release.
“Alice,” he breathes, his lips moving to my neck. “Are you sure about this?”
My stomach flutters. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”
His hands work at the buttons of my blouse while I fumble with his uniform shirt. We’re clumsy in the confined space, laughing breathlessly when his elbow hits the window, when I knock my head against the roof.
And we do. Slowly, carefully, we help each other out of our clothes until we’re skin to skin in the back of his patrol car, the blanket wrapped around us.
“God, you’re beautiful,” he whispers, his hands mapping every inch of me like he’s memorizing the feel of my skin. Like he's memorizing every curve that I've hated about my body. Like he's mesmerized.
“Wait,” he says suddenly, reaching for something in the front seat. “I have an idea.”
“What are you doing?”
He comes back with a small cup from his drink holder, ice cubes rattling inside. “Trust me.”
Before I can ask what he’s planning, he takes an ice cube in his mouth and kisses me, the cold shocking against my warm lips. I gasp, and he grins against my mouth.
“Too cold?”
“No,” I breathe heavily, feeling the chill seep into my skin, making my nipples harden.
He trails the ice cube down my neck, following it with his warm tongue, the contrast making me shiver for entirely different reasons now. When he reaches my breasts, he takes his time, the cold ice making me arch against him before he soothes the sensation with his mouth, his tongue swirling around my hardened nipples, drawing them into his mouth with a gentle suction.
“Sawyer,” I moan, my body aching with need.
He continues his path downward, alternating between ice and warmth, cold and heat, until I’m trembling beneath him. When he finally settles between my legs, he uses the ice in ways that make me cry out, the sensation so intense I can barely breathe. The cold ice against my clit, followed by the warm heat of his tongue, drives me wild, my hips grinding against his face.
“Please,” I whisper, and he drops the ice, using only his mouth now, warm and insistent, his tongue delving deep inside me, his fingers joining in, stretching and filling me until I come apart completely, his name on my lips.
Where did he learn this?
“Sawyer.”
“I love it when you moan my name, Alicat,” he growls, his voice thick with desire.
He moves back up my body, kissing me deeply so I can taste myself on his lips, the musky scent of my arousal mingling with the coolness of the ice.
I push him back against the seat and straddle him, taking him in my hand. He's hard and ready. He quickly rolls on a condom, and when I sink down onto him, we both groan, the sensation of him filling me completely overwhelming.
“Alicat,” he moans in the sexiest way, my nickname on his lips like a prayer, his hands gripping my hips, urging me to move faster.
