Page 161 of Shadowed Hearts: Frost
"My turn to be in charge."
Her hands roam over my chest, mapping every scar and muscle with reverent attention. The words should terrify me. Control has kept me alive since Sarah died, the one thing standing between me and chaos.
But watching Vanessa take charge, seeing confidence in her movements, the way her nervous energy transforms into focused intent, I want to surrender to this woman nearly a foot shorter than me.
She stretches up on her tiptoes, one hand curling around the back of my neck to pull my head down to her level. When she kisses me again, she sets the pace despite having to reach up for my mouth.
Her tongue slides against mine with increasing demand. Her free hand explores my chest, reaching up to map every inch as if she's memorizing details she can barely reach.
Her smaller frame controlling my larger body only intensifies the surrender.
For the first time in fifteen years, I stop thinking about what comes next.
I just feel.
Her mouth moves down my throat, teeth scraping against my collarbone in a way that makes my knees weak.
When did I become someone whose knees buckle?
"Bedroom. Now." My voice comes out more plea than command.
She pulls back, studying my face with those sharp eyes that miss nothing. "You sure you can handle giving up control?"
The challenge in her voice makes my cock hard as steel. "Try me, little bunny."
She takes my hand, leading me through the living room where her throw pillows nest among my steel and leather furniture. Each step brings new awareness.
Soft pad of bare feet on hardwood. The way morning shadows stretch across spaces that used to feel sterile but now fill with shared life.
Against the living room wall, she stops, pressing me back against the cool surface. She rises on her tiptoes, but still only reaches my chest. I bend my knees, lowering myself.
She takes advantage immediately, her mouth finding the spot where my neck meets my shoulder, her teeth grazing my skin until I'm gripping her hips hard enough to leave marks.
"Vanessa..." Her name escapes my lips in a tone I've never heard from myself before—breathless, wanting, stripped of all control.
My head falls back against the wall, unconsciously giving her better access. That I'm automatically adjusting my body to accommodate her smaller frame, something I've never done for anyone, isn't lost on me.
Time stops. There's only her touch, her heat.
"I like the way you say my name when you're not thinking."
Not thinking. She's right. For the first time since I was eighteen, there are no threat assessments, no situational analysis. Just sensation and the woman creating it.
She's worked her way down to my chest, tongue circling my nipple in a way that makes me see stars. The wall supports my weight because my legs have forgotten how to function.
"Jesus, Vanessa."
When we reach my bedroom, she pushes me down onto the bed's edge. The mattress dips under my weight. She pulls my t-shirt over her head in one fluid motion.
My mouth goes dry.
I've seen her body before, mapped every inch with hands and mouth, but this time feels different. This time, she's in control, revealing herself like a gift I never knew I deserved.
Her breasts are perfect. Small and firm, dark nipples pebbled with arousal. Pink streaks in her hair catch sunlight streaming through windows.
She fits in my space, in my life.
"You're staring."
