Page 19 of Melt My Heart: Denver Warlords

"I feel like I do." I turned to face her. "What she said, about you being a conquest…that's not what this is. You and I…it's different."

Her eyes met mine, searching. "Different how?"

The question hung between us, laden with possibility. In that moment, with her face softly illuminated by the dashboard lights, I realized I didn't have the words to explain how she'd upended my carefully constructed world of temporary connections and constant motion.

Instead, I leaned across the console and kissed her.

For a heartbeat, she remained still, and I feared I'd misread everything. Then her hand came up to cup my jaw, her lips softening beneath mine. The kiss deepened, her mouth tasting faintly of tiramisu and wine. My fingers threaded through her hair, marveling at its silken texture against my skin.

When we finally pulled apart, both slightly breathless, her eyes had darkened to a forest green. "Take me home," she whispered.

The drive to her apartment passed in charged silence, her hand resting on my thigh, my pulse thrumming at the contact. By the time we reached her building, the tension between us had built to an almost unbearable pitch.

In the elevator, she pressed herself against me, our lips meeting with newfound urgency. My hands spanned her waist, feeling the strength in her petite frame as she rose on tiptoes to deepen the kiss.

Inside her apartment, moonlight spilled through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting ethereal shadows across the minimalist space. I caught a glimpse of her expression—desire mingled with a shadow of vulnerability—before she led me toward her bedroom.

Our lips crashed together the moment her bedroom door closed behind us. I backed her against the wall, my hands sliding down her sides to grip her hips. She moaned softly into my mouth as I pressed against her, the thin fabric of her dress doing little to hide her body's response to my touch.

"I've wanted this since I first saw you on the ice," I confessed against her neck, trailing hot kisses down to her collarbone.

Her fingers fumbled with the buttons of my wine-stained shirt. "Too many clothes," she breathed, finally pushing the fabric from my shoulders.

I reached behind her, finding the zipper of her dress and slowly dragging it downward. The black fabric fell away, pooling at her feet to reveal a matching set of lace underwear that made my breath catch. Her body was a testament to athletic perfection—toned from years of training, yet undeniably feminine in every curve.

"God, you're beautiful," I whispered, my hands skimming up her sides.

She stepped out of her heels and pulled me toward the bed, her confidence momentarily giving way to vulnerability. "It's been a while for me," she admitted.

I kissed her deeply in response, lowering her onto the crisp white sheets. "We'll go as slow as you need."

Her hands explored my chest, tracing the defined muscles before trailing lower to the waistband of my jeans. Her touch grew bolder as she unbuttoned them, pushing the denim down my hips along with my boxers. I kicked them aside, finally as naked as she deserved to see me.

I reached behind her to unhook her bra, revealing perfect breasts that fit perfectly in my palms. Her sharp intake of breath as I rolled her nipples between my fingers sent heat surging through me. I replaced my hands with my mouth, drawing one taut peak between my lips while myhand slid down her stomach and beneath the lace of her panties.

She was already wet for me, her body arching as I stroked her most sensitive spot. "Gunnar," she gasped, her thighs falling open as I circled and teased.

I kissed my way down her body, hooking my fingers in her panties and drawing them slowly down her legs. She watched me through half-lidded eyes as I positioned myself between her thighs, my intentions clear. At the first stroke of my tongue against her center, she cried out, her hands flying to my hair.

I took my time, learning what made her moan, what made her fingers tighten in my hair, what made her thighs tremble. When I slipped two fingers inside her while continuing my attention with my tongue, she began to unravel, her hips moving in rhythm with my strokes.

"I'm close," she warned, her voice tight with approaching release.

I doubled my efforts, curling my fingers to find that perfect spot inside her while my tongue circled relentlessly. She came with a sharp cry, her body tensing and then pulsing around my fingers as waves of pleasure washed over her.

Before she could fully recover, I moved up her body, claiming her mouth in a passionate kiss. She reached between us, wrapping her fingers around my hardness, stroking me with a confidence that belied her earlier hesitation.

Our eyes locked as I positioned myself at her entrance, then slowly pushed inside her, both of us gasping at the sensation of our bodies finally joining.

I stilled, giving her time to adjust, fighting the urge to move. "Okay?" I whispered.

Her answer came in the form of her legs wrapping around my waist, pulling me deeper. I began to move, finding a rhythm that made her gasp with each thrust. Her nails raked down my back, urging me on as our bodies found the same synchronicity we'd developed on the ice.

I shifted the angle, lifting one of her legs higher, and was rewarded with a sharp cry as I hit a spot that made her eyes flutter closed. "There," she breathed. "Right there."

I maintained the pace, watching her face as pleasure built within her again. When I felt her beginning to tighten around me, I reached between us, circling her sensitive bud with my thumb. She shattered for a second time, her inner muscles clenching around me in waves that triggered my own release, my hips jerking against hers as ecstasy overtook me.

Afterward, Starla lay nestled against my chest, her breathing gradually slowing. I traced patterns on her shoulder, marveling at the contrast between her fierce competitive spirit and the tender warmth she revealed in private moments.

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