Page 98 of The Crush of Christmas Past
We’re slick with sweat. My nails score his back. His fingers bruise my hips.
Our eyes lock. Time halts. The universe blurs into nothing.
Nothing butus.
Skin on skin. Heart to heart.
He’s lodged so far he feels…mine.
Mine, mine, mine.
“Isla? Where do you want it?” Though still just as powerful, his claiming movements grow more erratic. “Where do you want me?”
My lungs fight for air as I rush to respond. “Inside. I want you with me when you come. I want all of it. All of you.”
“You want me to fill you up? Mark you as mine?"
I nod wildly.
"You like being the first—theonly—to ever have me bare?”
The sheer thrill of that revelation lures me toward another orgasm. The reverse is true, too—there's a rush in giving him what I'd never dared share with anyone else.
“Same,” I pant. “You’re my first. My only.”
My words break him.
Control to carnagein under two seconds.
He snarls my name and slams deeper, rhythm unraveling and thrusts turning desperate. A man on a mission, he’s chasing the end of the world and taking me along for the ride.
I hold on tighter. If he’s going down, I want to go with him.
When he comes, it’s with a worshipful “Isla” that vibrates through me. A reverent sound torn from his chest and slammed straight into mine.
He buries deep, grinding his release inside me, as if intent on leaving a permanent mark. The grateful way my body clings to him in return makes me think it has the same idea.
Our heartbeats sync, pressing together like they’re trying to fuse. Somewhere between our shared breaths, our souls entwine too.
As we descend from our shared high, Theo doesn’t pull out. Instead, he wraps me in his arms, dragging the top sheet over our tangled bodies without breaking our connection.
“Stay right here,” he murmurs against my temple, brushing sweat-damp hair from my forehead. “I want to keep you like this. Full of me.Mine.”
My brain warns me to run, but my body begs to stay. I lower my cheek to the center of his chest, promising myself I’ll move in a minute.
Just one short minute. Sixty seconds max.
As I begin to drift off, Theo shifts us and pulls me tighter. Closer. Hooking one leg over mine, he wraps me in his firm arms until it feels like every surface area of my body is covered in him. Even his breath soothes—warm and steady in my ear.
So why is it that I already miss him?
Twenty-Nine
Isla
Ijoltawakeintodarkness.
Before my eyes have a chance to adjust, scent gives my location away. Faint notes of citrus detergent cling to the sheets, but it’s the forest-crisp trace of Theo that wraps around me.
