“I want you inside me.”
“You’re making it damn hard to make sure you’re ready,” he says, sounding almost harsh.
“I’m ready!”
“Cat…”
I push his hand aside, take hold of his shaft, and then practically impale myself on his erection.
Griffin inhales with a hiss. Then he grips my hips and pulls me forward, joining us fully with a slow, deliberately measured thrust. Exquisite pressure builds low in my abdomen. He’s barely finished pushing himself inside me when my release hits. My thighs tense. The breath stalls in my lungs, and then I kick back my head and let out the loudest, throatiest, most breathless moan in the history of all history, going boneless in a blissful rush.
“Gods, I missed you,” Griffin rasps, holding me as I throb around him.
The high-impact tremors fade into sweet, lingering aftershocks. I look up at him with heavy-lidded eyes. My lips part, but no words come out. Even the drag of frosty air over my kiss-swollen lips is almost too sensual to bear.
Griffin quirks a dark eyebrow, looking smug. “That was easy.”
I grin, falling in love with him all over again. “Then do it again.”
Heat flares in his eyes. His lips curve in a slow, carnal smile as he slowly withdraws. Pleasure licks up and down my spine, the feel of him moving inside me thrilling me from my head to my toes. He thrusts forward again, and my exhale shudders between us. Griffin’s hoarse groan is all I need to rock my hips. He answers by rocking his. Our eyes meet with steady, burning intensity.
“You’re mine.” He strokes into me again, and thunder cracks in my heated veins. Lightning flashes around us. “I’m yours. Nothing will ever come between us.”
“Nothing,” I vow, the binding magic snapping in my blood.
Griffin pulls me off the ice shelf, holding me in an iron grip while he thrusts upward again and again. I wrap my arms around his neck, finding his mouth to claim his lips, his tongue, his breath, and more. He moves faster, harder, driving up into me as I grind down. Release swells inside me again, cresting like a great, unstoppable wave.
I start to shout, and Griffin clamps his mouth down on mine, muffling the sound as I tumble over the edge of another shattering climax. My muscles clench his shaft, begging him to join me as hot bolts of pleasure spark and twist through my body. Griffin’s grip turns crushing. He goes still, shudders, and then groans against my mouth, finding his own release just after me.
Our lips cling. Neither of us moves. I couldn’t even if I tried. Only Griffin’s arms are keeping me upright. When he finally lifts his head, my lashes flutter up.
Dreamily, I say, “If you put me down, I’ll fall.”
Griffin smiles faintly. “I would never let you fall.”
Overwhelming love pushes at the confines of my ribs, making my heart feel too big for my chest.
A shrill whistle comes from somewhere beyond the curve in the tunnel, a sudden reminder of the others waiting for us. “If we want to get off this mountain today, we have to leave now,” Carver calls.
“How do you feel?” The concern in Griffin’s eyes is evident even in the dim light. Or maybe it’s his voice that gives it away.
“Honestly?” I grimace, touching the bump on my head. But instead of saying, “Occasionally dizzy with mild to not-so-mild bouts of nausea,” I just say, “Exhausted,” which is also true. Oddly, I was feeling much the same even before I got tossed headfirst into a wall.
“We camp here until tomorrow,” Griffin calls back.
Carver grumbles something unintelligible in assent.
“We should get dressed.” I yawn, utterly unmotivated to move.
“Then I’ll have to put you down.”
That is a drawback. “All right, but only for a second.”
Griffin slides me off him and then deposits my cloak-protected bottom back onto the ice shelf. Still half hard, he rights his pants and buckles his belt. On his way down to retrieve my clothing, he stops to inspect the healing cut on my left thigh. “What happened here?”
I yawn again. “Monster claw.” The slice wasn’t deep and healed over quickly, leaving a line across my leg that’s only a little sore. “I don’t even feel it.”
His sudden, tense silence speaks volumes, but I ignore it. Griffin chooses to let it go, probably because there’s no point arguing with a person who is half asleep and who doesn’t care about the cut anyhow.
