There was just Nick. And the way he looked at me like I wasn’t broken. Like I was his.
A shiver traced down my spine at his words, curling through me like smoke. They wrapped around my chest like a tether—steadying me, anchoring me right here with him. No noise. No world beyond these walls. Just Nick and this moment that felt like it might rewrite everything I thought I knew.
“Why do you make it so hard to breathe?” I whispered, trying to pass it off as teasing, though my voice was still thick with the breathlessness he always seemed to draw from me without even trying.
He chuckled under his breath, that low, rich sound that sent tiny sparks dancing across my skin. Then he leaned in, pressing his forehead gently to mine. It wasn’t just tender—it was grounding. Like he needed the contact just as much as I did. Like we were two halves finally syncing their rhythm.
“Maybe because you’re too busy looking beautiful,” he murmured.
My cheeks flared with heat, his words striking something tender and soft inside me. Every compliment from him felt like sunlight breaking through a storm—warming parts of me that had forgotten what light even felt like.
“You know how to say all the right things,” I said, my voice quieter now. More honest.
“Only for you,” he replied—and I believed him.
Then his mouth found mine again, slower this time, deeper. It was a kiss full of promises and quiet declarations, like he was showing me with every movement that this wasn’t temporary. That I wasn’t temporary.
When he pulled back, just enough to search my face, there was something different in his eyes. A focus. A hunger. A fierce kind of certainty that made my heart lurch in my chest.
Outside, the city lights sparkled like scattered stars through the windows, a reminder that life was still moving forward—but in here, everything had stilled. Everything was waiting.
I looked up at him, the noise in my head finally silent. And then, slowly, I reached for his hand, lacing my fingers through his.
Nick's eyes locked onto mine, and the world outside these walls ceased to exist. His gaze was intense, unwavering, as if he could see right through to the very core of me. My breath hitched, anticipation thrumming through my veins.
He reached for the hem of my shirt—his shirt—and began to lift it slowly. The fabric glided up my skin, inch by inch, exposing me to the cool air and his heated stare. His movements were deliberate, almost reverent, like he was unwrapping something precious. I raised my arms to help him, and the shirt slipped over my head, leaving me bare before him.
Nick's eyes never left mine as he tossed the shirt aside. His hands returned to my body, gentle but insistent. He traced a path from my shoulders down to my waist, his fingers skimming along my ribs, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. My skin tingled under his touch, every nerve ending alive and buzzing with need.
He leaned in and pressed a kiss to my collarbone, soft and lingering. The warmth of his lips against my skin sent shivers cascading down my spine. He continued his journey, his mouth traveling lower, peppering kisses along the curve of my shoulder and down to the swell of my breast.
I gasped as his lips closed around a sensitive peak, drawing it into his mouth with a gentle suckle. Pleasure sparked through me like lightning, and I arched into him, desperate for more. Nick's eyes flicked up to meet mine again, and the raw desire in them stole my breath away.
"Nick," I breathed out, my voice trembling with want.
He didn't respond with words; instead; he let his actions speak for him. His mouth moved lower still, kissing a slow path down my stomach. Each press of his lips was deliberate, drawing out the anticipation until it was almost unbearable.
When he reached the waistband of my panties, he paused. Our eyes met again, and in that moment, everything else faded away. It was just us—connected in a way that went beyond physical desire.
Nick hooked his fingers into the waistband and began to peel them down slowly. The fabric slid over my hips and thighs until they pooled at my feet. I stepped out of them without breaking eye contact.
He kissed along the inside of my thigh, his breath hot against my skin. My pulse quickened with every touch of his lips as he drew closer to where I needed him most.
"Please," I whispered.
His eyes held mine as he kissed me there—slowly—drawing out every ounce of pleasure until I was trembling in his hands.
Nick's lips moved with a precision that unraveled me piece by piece. My skin was alive under his touch, every nerve ending attuned to his movements. The anticipation hung thick in the air, and when he finally lifted his head, our eyes locked, the intensity between us almost palpable.
In one fluid motion, Nick pulled me onto his lap. I straddled him, feeling the solid warmth of his body against mine. My hands went to the hem of his shirt, fingers trembling slightly as I tugged it up and over his head. He lifted his arms to help me; the fabric slipping off easily to reveal the hard planes of his chest.
I couldn't help but pause for a moment, my hands skimming over the taut muscles of his torso. The scars, the bruises—each mark told a story, a testament to who he was and what he had endured. I leaned in, pressing a kiss to one particularly fresh bruise just above his ribcage. His breath hitched slightly at the contact.
"You're incredible," I whispered against his skin. "I'm so proud of you."
The words felt almost shy on my tongue, but they were true. Watching him on the ice tonight had been nothing short of awe-inspiring. He had commanded every moment with such raw power and grace, and knowing that he did it with me in mind made my heart swell with pride.
Nick's eyes darkened at my words, a flash of something tender and possessive crossing his features. He captured my mouth in a kiss that was anything but shy—hungry and demanding. His hands slid down to my hips, pulling me closer until there was no space left between us.
