Sylvie’s fingers began tracing lazy patterns on my skin, and I felt some of the anxiety that had been building start to dissolve under her touch.
“You know,” she said, her voice taking on a teasing quality that immediately captured my attention. “I’ve been thinking about how I want to start Christmas morning.”
“Oh?” I turned toward her, able to make out the mischievous smile playing at her lips. I knew my woman. I knew her tone and that smile.
Apparently her little catnap had revived her.
“Mmhmm.” Her hand moved lower, and suddenly the strange figure by the cabin was the furthest thing from my mind. “I have some very specific ideas about Christmas morning activities.”
“I like where this is going,” I said, rolling toward her more fully.
“I thought you might,” she said, pulling me down for a kiss that tasted like promise and possibility.
CHAPTER 71
SYLVIE
Ikissed him with everything I had, pouring all my love and gratitude into the connection between us. My hands found the waistband of his boxers. I slid them down slowly, deliberately, wanting to savor every moment of this.
Kent groaned softly as I wrapped my hand around him, feeling him harden further under my touch. He was already aroused. Knowing I had that effect on him sent heat flooding through my entire body.
“Sylvie,” he breathed, his voice rough with desire. “You’re going to kill me.”
“That’s the plan,” I murmured against his lips, stroking him slowly.
He pulled back just enough to yank my T-shirt over my head, leaving me completely naked beneath him. His eyes roamed over my body with such hunger and appreciation that I felt beautiful in a way I’d never experienced before. Not just physically attractive but truly seen and cherished. No matter how many times he saw me naked, he always acted like it was the first time. Like he was getting the gift of something amazing despite seeing me just that morning.
“You’re so perfect,” he said, his hands sliding up my sides to cup my breasts. His thumbs brushed over my nipples, making me arch into his touch. “So fucking perfect.”
I pulled him down for another kiss, this one deeper and more demanding. I needed him closer, needed to feel his skin against mine, needed the connection that only he could provide. His weight settled over me, sinking me into the mattress.
“I need you,” I whispered against his mouth. “Now, Kent. Please.”
He reached for the nightstand drawer where we kept condoms, but I stopped him with a hand on his wrist.
“I’m on birth control,” I said, meeting his eyes directly. “And I trust you completely. Unless you want to use one.”
“No,” he said quickly, his voice strained. “God, no. I want to feel you. All of you.”
The intimacy of that decision, the trust it represented, made my chest flutter. This wasn’t just sex anymore. This was deeper, more profound. This was two people choosing to be completely vulnerable with each other in every possible way. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew he was the only man I would ever be with again. He was it for me. I hoped he felt the same, but that was something we could talk about later.
He rolled to his elbow and slid his hand down my belly and then between my legs. I gasped as his fingers found me already wet and ready for him. He traced lazy circles around my clit, building the tension slowly, deliberately. My hips lifted off the bed, seeking more pressure, more friction, but he maintained that maddeningly slow pace.
“Kent,” I breathed, my fingers digging into his shoulders. “Please.”
“I love watching you like this,” he murmured, his voice low and rough. “So responsive. So beautiful.”
He slid one finger inside me, then another. His thumb continued its work on my clit while his fingers moved in and out with increasing speed. The dual sensation was almost too much.
I could feel the pressure building inside me, coiling tighter and tighter with each stroke of his fingers. My breathing came in short gasps. I was making sounds I couldn’t control, needy whimpers and soft moans that seemed to spur him on.
“That’s it, baby,” Kent encouraged, his free hand sliding up to cup my breast, his thumb brushing over my nipple. “Let go. I’ve got you.”
His fingers moved faster, hitting that perfect spot inside me while his thumb increased the pressure on my clit. The combination was devastating. I felt myself climbing higher and higher, every nerve ending in my body focused on where he was touching me.
“Kent, I’m—” I couldn’t finish the sentence. The orgasm crashed over me like a wave, making my entire body tense and then shudder with pleasure. I cried out his name, my back arching off the bed as the sensations rolled through me in intense pulses.
He didn’t stop, didn’t let up, working me through every aftershock until I was trembling and oversensitive, pushing weakly at his hand.
