Page 49 of Bar Down

Stephanie took his hands in hers and placed them on her waist. "Touch me, Marcus. Please."

His palms slid up her ribcage, thumbs tracing the undersides of her breasts with a reverence that made her ache. When his hands finally cupped her fully through the thin fabric of her bra, Stephanie couldn't hold back a soft moan.

Their mouths met again, the kiss deepening as his thumbs brushed over her nipples. Heat pooled low in her belly, an insistent throb building between her thighs. She pressed closer, feeling his arousal against her hip.

Her fingers resumed their work on his shirt buttons, eager to feel his skin against hers. She pushed the fabric from his shoulders, revealing the body she'd glimpsed in training rooms and caught herself watching during practices. The reality was better than her imagination—broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist, defined chest dusted with dark hair, and the various scars that told the story of his career on the ice.

"Your turn," she murmured, reaching behind to unclasp her bra.

The garment fell away, and Stephanie fought the urge to cover herself as Marcus's gaze traveled over her bare breasts. The nakedness felt more profound than physical—as if she were finally allowing herself to be truly seen by this man who noticed everything.

He lowered his head, pressing his lips to her collarbone, then trailing down to the swell of her breast. When his mouth closed over her nipple, heat lanced through her body, drawing a gasp from her lips. His tongue circled the sensitive peak before sucking gently, the sensation shooting straight to her core.

"God, Marcus," she whispered, fingers threading through his short hair to hold him closer.

His attention shifted to her other breast, lavishing it with the same thorough devotion while his hand continued teasing the first, rolling her nipple between his fingers with just enough pressure to make her whimper. Her knees weakened as he alternated between teasing licks and gentle suction, discovering exactly how to make her tremble.

Stephanie reached for his belt, needing to feel more of him. The leather slid free, followed by the metallic rasp of his zipper. His breath caught when her knuckles brushed against his arousal through the thin fabric of his underwear.

"May I?" she asked, fingers at his waistband.

"Yes," he breathed, the single word filled with need.

Stephanie sank to her knees, drawing his pants and boxer briefs down in one motion. His erection sprang free, and she took a moment simply to look at him—all of him, from the powerful thighs that drove him across the ice to the hard length now inches from her face.

She wrapped her hand around him, the skin impossibly soft over rigid heat. Marcus's sharp intake of breath sent a thrill through her—the knowledge that she could affect his carefully maintained control so profoundly was intoxicating.

Holding his gaze, she leaned forward and took him into her mouth. His eyes darkened, pupils dilating as she slowly took him deeper. His hand came to rest at the nape of her neck, not guiding but simply connecting, fingers tangling in her hair.

The taste of him, the weight on her tongue, the soft sounds he made as she established a rhythm—everything heightened her own arousal. She tightened her lips, using her hand in concert with her mouth, watching his reactions to learn what pleased him most.

His breathing grew ragged, abdominal muscles tensing as she took him deeper. When she hollowed her cheeks and swirled her tongue around his tip, his fingers tightened in her hair.

"Stephanie," he warned, voice strained. "I need to—I want—"

Before she could respond, Marcus was drawing her to her feet, his hands gripping her waist as he captured her mouth in a kiss that stole her breath. Without warning, he lifted her completely, strong hands supporting her thighs.

Stephanie instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist, a gasp escaping her at the sudden display of strength. The few steps to the bed seemed to take forever, her body hyper-aware of every point of contact between them—his hands gripping her thighs, his chest against her breasts, the hardness of him pressing against her center through her skirt.

He laid her on the mattress with surprising gentleness, his hands moving to her waistband. "May I?" he echoed her earlier question.

"Please," she nodded, lifting her hips to help as he slid her skirt and underwear down her legs.

The cool air against her heated skin made her shiver, vulnerability washing over her as she lay completely exposed before him. But the way Marcus looked at her—like she was both a miracle and a necessity—chased away any self-consciousness.

He knelt between her parted thighs, his hands sliding up her legs with deliberate slowness. When his thumbs brushed the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, Stephanie's breath hitched in anticipation.

"I've thought about this," he confessed, voice rough with desire. "About tasting you."

Heat flooded her cheeks at his words. "Show me," she whispered.

Marcus lowered his head, placing open-mouthed kisses along her inner thigh, working his way higher with torturous patience. When his breath finally ghosted over her center, Stephanie's hips lifted involuntarily, seeking contact.

The first touch of his tongue against her sent electricity coursing through her body. A moan tore from her throat, her hands fisting in the bedsheets as he explored her with alternating soft and firm strokes.

"Marcus," she gasped, one hand moving to tangle in his hair.

He hummed against her in response, the vibration adding another layer of sensation that made her thighs tremble. When he found the perfect rhythm against her most sensitive spot, Stephanie's world narrowed to nothing but the heat of his mouth and the pleasure building inside her.

---