Page 47 of Melting the Ice

Go to sleep, idiot.

***

“Should I let you nap in peace?” her voice whispered, and I felt the sheet pull back.

I turned to see her leaning over the bed, her purple hair falling over her shoulders, as her tongue darted out to lick the corner of her mouth.

“You looked restless,” she murmured. “Need some warm milk or something?”

I sighed and reached for her hand, tugging her down on top of me. “That’s because I am fucking restless, and it’s all your fault.”

“Micah.” she gasped as I rocked my body against hers, my cock still hard as steel. I’d drifted off for a bit, but I wasn’t going to get in my normal pregame nap.

“Should I go?” she asked, her pupils dilating as she shifted against me.

“Probably,” I muttered, her scent enveloping me.

Fuck, I wanted her.

She tried to pull back, but I kept my grip on her. “No,” I gritted out. “Don’t go.”

“Are you sure?”

“No.”

She straddled my hips and sat up. I bit back a groan. “Micah, I’m not going to play this game with you. I’m not going to be a regret or a mistake again.”

The words I’d said to her four years ago punched me in the chest, and I shifted, sitting up with her still in my arms. I held her gaze, and her lips parted softly.

“Look, I was an asshole that day. Kissing you was never a mistake. I was fucked up from everything ending with Amaya, and it wasn’t right for me to take advantage of you and kiss you that night.”

“I kissed you,” she murmured, her cheeks pink.

I reached up and cupped her jaw. “I was an idiot, and I’m sorry for what I said. I’ve thought about that kiss more times than I should’ve over the years.”

She smiled. “Me too. And I’m glad I’m not a regret.”

I ran my thumb over her lower lip, and she nipped me with her teeth. “You could never be a regret, Josie. I’m so fucking sorry for my reaction that night.”

“Idiot man.”

“Absolutely.”

She rocked her hips again. “So, you still interested in a nap?”

“No,” I muttered.

“Um, okay. I’ll go,” she said.

I tightened my hold. “Don’t fucking move.”

Her eyes widened, and she bit her lip. “But you have a game tonight. And, you know, superstitions and all. Those should be taken very seriously.” She rolled her hips again.

“Very seriously,” I echoed, my hand moving to fist the back of her hair, holding her locked against me.

Her moan washed over my skin, and my fingers tightened.

“I know you want to be on edge for the game, but you seem a bit too tense,” she taunted, her hand on top of the sheet covering my side.

---