Hillary’s chest warmed at how careful he sounded, like he didn’t want to push. She smiled, softer than she meant to. “Yeah, we do.”
Something in his shoulders relaxed. He nodded, satisfied.
She typed a quick reply back to Sydney, confirming, then set her phone face down on the table. The quiet that followed stretched between them, but not uncomfortable. Just charged. He was close, warm, steady, watching her like she was the only thing in the room.
And she realized she didn’t want distance anymore. Not tonight. She wanted closer.
Her gaze dropped to his mouth before she could stop herself.
Murphy noticed—of course, he noticed—and leaned in, his lips brushing hers in a kiss that started slow, then deepened when she melted against him. The world narrowed to the press of his mouth, the slide of his hand along her thigh, the certainty of being exactly where she was supposed to be.
The first kiss gave way to another, deeper, until she was pressed back against the couch cushions and his weight hovered over her, careful but insistent. His hands slid under her blouse, calloused palms tracing reverent paths along her skin like he was memorizing every inch.
“You don’t know,” he murmured against her mouth, breath ragged. “You don’t know how many nights I wanted this. How many nights I dreamed about touching you.”
Her fingers curled into his hair, pulling him closer. “Then show me.”
That was all the invitation he needed. He stripped her blouse away with a sure, steady touch, but not rushed, every button undone like a promise. His mouth followed, pressing slow kisses down the line of her throat, between her breasts, lower still, each one coaxing a shiver from her.
She tried to pull him up to her lips again, but he shook his head with a grin, kissing along her belly. “No, Boss. Not tonight. Tonight I’m going to worship your perfect body,” he said as he watched his hand slowly travel up her belly and back down.
And then it was.
Murphy worshiped her with lips and tongue and hands, tasting, savoring, praising her in rough whispers that undid her completely. His strength—so often controlled, harnessed for the ice—was all for her now, holding her steady while he coaxed her higher and higher until she was trembling, her voice breaking on his name.
When he finally moved back up her body, his mouth claimed hers again, her tears mixing with his kiss: tears of release, of relief, of finally letting herself have this.
“I love you,” he said against her lips, the words raw and unguarded. “Every inch. Every curve. Every breath. You’re mine, Hillary. Let me prove it.”
And when he slid into her, slow and deep, it wasn’t just heat, it was devotion. He moved with a rhythm that worshiped, that promised, that undid every wall she had tried to build. His forehead pressed to hers, his whispers anchoring her:beautiful, perfect, mine.
By the time they collapsed together, sweaty and breathless, she could only clutch at him, knowing she would never be able to push him away again.
She slumped against the couch arm, still catching her breath, hair mussed and lips swollen. “All that before we even get to bed?”
Murphy just grinned, leaning down to steal another kiss before offering her his hand. His eyes sparkled, wicked and boyish all at once.
"There is much more where that came from," he said before pressing a kiss to her lips. “Perks of a younger guy,” he said with a wink.
She laughed, the sound shaky and disbelieving as he helped her up. God help her, she was already melting all over again. Because the look in his eyes didn’t just promise more, it promisedeverything.
And that was only the beginning.
50
MURPHY
Murphy didn’t let go of her hand as he led her down the short hall toward his bedroom. Her overnight bag swung from his shoulder, but it was the way she clung to him, like she didn’t want to break whatever spell they’d wrapped themselves in, that made his chest ache.
She’d let him back in. She’d told him she loved him.
They got into bed, and the feel of her body pressed into his had never felt quite so good. A comfortable silence engulfed them as he just existed next to her. This was what he had been craving. Knowing she was here and she was his was everything.
“I could get used to this,” he said as he tucked her hair behind her ear.
“Me too,” she said as she traced her hands down the ridged plane of his abs.
But then she stilled his hands, rolling him onto his back with surprising determination. Her hair fell forward as she straddled him, her palms pressed against his chest. “My turn,” she said, voice shaking but sure.
