Page 68 of Melting the Ice

I choked out a laugh. “Fucking hell, Hurricane.”

“That’s the idea,” she said, standing from the desk and walking toward me. “You should lock the door.”

“Shit.” I turned and locked it immediately. “What if someone else had walked in here before me?”

“Then they would’ve gotten a show.”

I growled.

She fanned herself. “Your growling is seriously the hottest sound.”

“Josie,” I grumbled, tugging her into my body, my hand palming her ass. “Do I need to spank you?”

“Is that supposed to be a form of punishment?” she rasped.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” I muttered. She grinned up at me. “Will you ever get tired of tormenting me?”

She shook her head from side to side. “Never. And before you have a panic attack, I had my leggings draped over my legs in case it wasn’t you walking in the door.”

Then I glanced down and noticed her pants in a pile next to her feet. I’d missed them since I was fixated on her.

“So, can I?”

“What?”

“Have some D.” Then she giggled. “I couldn’t resist.”

“You can have anything you want,” I said, and I lowered my mouth to hers, sealing our lips and swallowing her soft moan.

Fuck. She felt amazing in my arms. I craved her. It was an addiction I never wanted to recover from.

JOSIE

Micah lifted me into his arms, walking me back toward the empty desk. Cora said the space was sometimes used for an impromptu meeting with player’s agents or something. There weren’t a ton of furniture options available in the almost empty room, so this would have to do. I didn’t care as long as I was in his arms, and he was muttering all the dirty words to me as he made me come. My body quivered with need.

He sat me on the edge of the desk and broke the kiss, stepping back and pushing my thighs wide. Then he dropped to his knees as he shoved my jersey up.

“You’re fucking drenched, Hurricane. I can see it without even touching your panties. Did you have this plan to lure me in here and have your way with me all night long? Does the thought of us fucking in the arena make you wet?” His eyes were dark with a desire that matched my own.

“Maybe.”

He drew his finger over my heated center, pushing my panties against my aching clit, and I needed that fabric gone. I needed all of it gone so we could be skin on skin, with no barriers.

The sound of ripping fabric had me lifting my head. He met my gaze and grinned at me while he tucked my shredded panties into his suit jacket pocket like a damn pocket square.

Holy freaking hell.

Then, without saying another word, he lowered his head and dragged his tongue up the length of my slit to my clit.

“Oh, Micah.” My body curled toward him, my fingers from one hand sank into his still damp hair, and I held his face to my aching center.

He growled against me, lapping at the wetness that pooled at the apex of my thighs, drinking me down, as he feasted on me like a man starved.

“Yes. Oh, yes. Right there,” I whispered, so turned on that I knew it wouldn’t be long before I came.

He gripped my thighs in his strong hands, holding me spread open as he teased and tortured me deliciously. I writhed on the desk and tried to chase the friction I desperately needed.

I groaned when his tongue left my clit, only to whimper seconds later when he lightly bit the inside of my thigh.

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