I’ve been craving that—her—without the constant reminder that we only exist in borrowed moments. I reach for her hand and thread our fingers together. She rises first and tugs me gently to my feet. My body remembers every step as I lead her to my bedroom up the stairs.
35
TEDDY
JANUARY 3
Inavigate through the loft by muscle memory, only one thing in my mind—I need to get Ivy naked. My leg clips the edge of a chair I’d forgotten was there and I hiss under my breath. But I don’t stop until my thigh touches the wooden bedframe.
Her free hand slides up my chest to cup my cheek and I lean into her touch. When she kisses me, it’s soft and unhurried. Her mouth parts under mine, and I trace her lip ring with my tongue. Her hand slips behind my neck, tugging me closer. My arm slides around her waist, and she shivers when my fingers graze her spine. I trail my hand down to the hem of her sweater, catching it between my fingers.
“May I?”
Instead of using her words, there’s a whisper of fabric as her arms lift, brushing against mine. I misjudge and catch her elbow instead of the sweater, fumbling before finding the right edge of the fabric. I peel the top over her head and let it drop on the floor. Keeping my hands on her, my palms brush overher ribs, thumbs grazing the edge of her bra. The slight tremble in her body is addicting.
My fingertips travel as I learn the curve of her shoulders and the slope of her neck. Every inch is stored like a map in my mind. The lace of her bra is delicate under my touch, a contrast to the heat radiating from her skin. I trace the dip of her waist and the soft rise of her stomach, soaking in her incredible body.
Dropping onto the edge of the bed, my legs part and I curl a finger in a beckoning motion. She steps forward, sliding into the space between my knees.
“Your turn,” Ivy murmurs, her voice low and playful. Her hands grab at the bottom of my hoodie and help me out of it. Her fingers trail over my uncovered chest, tracing my tattoos.
“Can I take this off?” I ask, brushing the strap of her bra.
“Yes,” comes her breathy whisper.
I miss the clasp at first and chuckle under my breath before unhooking it on the second try, letting the fabric slide down her arms as my hands follow. Goosebumps cover her skin beneath my fingertips. It makes me smile, knowing that my touch is the reason behind them. I cup her breasts, my thumbs brushing over her pierced nipples. She lets out a gaspy exhale and leans into the touch.
“You love it when I play with them, don’t you? Fuck, you’re exquisite,” I murmur and she moans in response, the sound traveling straight to my dick. “You’re what dreams are made of, Ivy.”
Her breath hitches as she straddles my lap, knees settling on either side of my thighs. Our chests brush, skin on skin, thetouch electric and our lips collide. Pure want drags me under its spell. Her hand slides into my hair, tugging hard enough to make me groan against her mouth. I grip her hips and grind her down against me, the friction sending another jolt through me.
“Need you to lose the rest of these,” I mutter, slipping two fingers into the belt loop of her pants, and give them a pointed tug.
“You first,” she challenges, a playful edge to her voice.
She slides off my lap, and I lift my hips. Ivy tugs my sweats and briefs down in one fluid motion, leaving me bare. My foot catches on the hem of my sweats, and I have to kick twice before they finally slide off. I toss them aside as my cock springs free, hard and aching. When her hand wraps around me, a strangled sound tears out of my throat—half groan, half whimper.
Her thumb brushes teasingly over the sensitive, pierced tip. It’s a light stroke, but short circuits everything, my hips jerking up into her touch. Heat floods my veins, sharp and consuming, and a broken growl escapes my throat.
Ivy bends and kisses me, all lips and teeth. Her mouth moves over mine as if she’s starving for it; like tasting me isn’t enough and she wants to devour me whole. I meet her with the same desperation, kissing her back just as hard.
I reach for her jeans, dragging my fingers along the seam to orient myself before the button pops open under my touch. It takes me a beat longer than it should—hard to manage when her mouth is wrecking every ounce of my focus. She slides off me, getting rid of any remaining clothing before settling back, completely uncovered. Her naked skin glides against mine, all heat, smooth lines and defined muscle.
My hands move up her thighs as I savor every inch of exposed skin. She shudders, her hips canting forward. The need rolling off her is undeniable as my fingers glide easily through her slick heat, and the sound she makes—half gasp, half moan—shoots straight to my cock.
“Christ,” I whisper, awed. I’ve never wanted anything as badly as I want to keep discovering her every reaction, with her body pressed against mine.
Teasing her entrance, I circle it gently. She gasps, hips rolling against my hand. “Teddy?—”
Urged on by the soft cry of my name, my thumb finds her clit. I stroke it once, adding pressure to the touch. Her entire body jerks, thighs tightening around me as her hips buck forward desperately. Her nails dig into my shoulders, sharp enough to sting, but the bite only stokes the fire racing through me.
“You feel incredible. Can’t believe I get to touch you like this,” I murmur, brushing a kiss against her collarbone as my fingers keep moving.
Her breath falters. “I don’t want you to stop.”
“God help me, I never intend to.”
I trace a slow path to the delicate skin of her neck with my open mouth. Her pulse flutters under my tongue and I want to lick every inch of her exposed skin.
