Page 110 of Frozen Flames

I’m lucky to have met her. A little voice in my head reminds me that I wouldn’t have met her if it wasn’t for the accident, but I push the thought away as quickly as it comes.

I don’t want to think about it.

I don’t want to give the thought any merit.

Perhaps it’s true, perhaps not.

Instead, I focus on the feel of her lips and the magic they create inside me. If anyone would’ve told me when I was younger that one day a kiss would feel like this, I would’ve told them to lay off it.

She lifts up my T-shirt, and the familiar anxiety starts to creep in until she takes off her own long-sleeved shirt, revealing nothing but a white bra underneath.

Her tits look perfect.

I’m in awe of her in every way.

Her forefinger traces slowly, sensually, all over my chest. My upper body is tingling in the best way. Then I lean forward, grabbing her gently by the neck. “Claire…” I whisper in her ear. “Reach down and touch yourself.”

She nods, unzipping her jeans, giving me a glimpse of her white underwear. Her fingers move beneath it, while her other hand is holding mine, our fingers woven together.

“Please touch yourself,” she pleads, seeming breathless.

My heart rate picks up, and I want to deny her and object and stop the whole thing right here and now. I’ve done it many times with Gemma. But with Claire, somehow each sexual step has always been easier to bear. Maybe I feel as though she won’t judge me for my mishaps.

I nod, watching her touch herself, which in turn encourages me to do the same.

I picked the wrong day to wear jeans—this would’ve been much easier with joggers on. Either way, I unzip my pants and reach down.

I keep mentally reminding myself to chill. I’m as hard as a rock. I also peed right before we settled on the couch.

I drop my hand and start stroking slowly, while my other hand cannot resist grabbing her breasts. I push down her brastraps and pull down a cup, staring at her nipple as I touch myself.

“Harvey…”

“Yes?”

“I’m almost there,” she pants.

“That’s good, babe.” I lean closer to her. It hides what I’m doing a little bit and reduces my anxiety. “Except I didn’t give you permission to let go yet, now did I?”

She moans and shakes her head, and I swear to God, I’ll come in my hand in two seconds. I want to keep teasing her, but I can’t, knowing I don’t have much time left myself, and I can’t trust my body jack shit when it comes to this.

“Please,” she begs. Her breathing is labored, her chest moving with each rhythm.

“Alright, Claire. Come on your pretty fingers for me.” I squeeze her neck, feeling her pulse against my hand, then do it again.

And she comes, and luckily, she’s too distracted to notice my own pleasure thereafter. I moan, tilting my head back, and a sound I’ve never made before catches in my throat.

It takes me a minute to realize that this is the first time I’ve been able to come with a woman since the accident.

The notion itself is enough to mess with my head.

We stare at one another, both satiated.

She laughs and sits on the couch next to me, her jeans still unzipped, giving me a glimpse of her creamy skin. Her nude lipstick has worn off, but her cheeks look as flushed as ever.

She cuddles next to me, resting her head against my shoulder. Then we end up watching the movie.

And all is well in this moment.

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