Page 50 of Mistletoe & Magic
I get up, dispose of the condom and turn on the shower, and she joins me; the spray warming us while I take my time kissing her, cleaning her up and washing her hair. She leans into me and groans, and I hold her, memorizing every inch of her body, because she’s so beautiful and perfect. Having her in my shower like this is intimacy I’ve never experienced with anyone else.
The water beats down hot, steam curling around us, fogging the glass. Ivy’s hair is wet, plastered to her shoulders, her skin flushed and glistening. She is standing under the spray, looking at me like she cannot believe we are here, like she is waiting for me to make the next move.
I cannot stop staring. “God, you’re beautiful,” I say before I can stop myself.
She smiles, a little shy, which only makes me want her more. My hand slides over her wet skin, down her side, lingering at the curve of her hip. She is soft and smooth, and I swear I could spend hours just touching her like this.
Her breath hitches when I trail my fingers lower. “Remy…”
“You have no idea,” I murmur, stepping closer until her back is against the tile. “I can’t stop looking at you.”
I kiss her slowly, letting the water run over both of us, and she melts against me. My hands roam, learning her body in the dim light, every dip and curve. Her breasts press against my chest, her thighs slick against mine, and I am shaking from holding back, from trying to make this last.
“You feel perfect,” I say against her mouth. “Every inch of you.”
She tilts her head back as my mouth trails down her throat, giving me more to taste. The water mixes with the sounds she makes, soft and desperate, and I know I will never get enough of this woman.
I touch her gently at first, wanting to draw it out, wanting to watch her come apart. Her hands brace on my hips, her head falling back against the tile as I work her higher and higher until she gasps, coming apart under my hand.
I hold her through it, kissing her softly, murmuring against her lips, “That’s it. So damn gorgeous.”
When she blinks up at me, her cheeks flushed, her lips parted, I almost lose it.
“I want you,” she whispers.
“Wait here.”
I slip out of the shower and grab another condom, silently thankful I bought the bigger box.
I step back into the shower and kiss her again, hard this time, lifting her easily so she wraps her legs around me.
The heat of her body against mine is magnetic, like gravity itself is bending to pull us together, and I can't tell where I end and she begins. When I push into her, I have to close my eyes and breathe through the rush of it.
I move slowly at first, every thrust deep and careful, because I want to feel every second of this, want her to know how much she means to me. The sound of water, her gasps, my ragged breathing, it all mixes until I think I might go crazy from how good it feels.
“You’re so beautiful,” I tell her again, because I cannot stop saying it.
When she comes again, clenching tight around me, I let go, groaning her name as I follow her over the edge.
I keep holding her after, kissing her forehead, her wet hair sticking to my cheek. She is smiling, soft and sleepy-looking, and it hits me hard—this is it. This is what I have been missing.
“Come on,” I whisper, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. “Let’s get you dry before I keep you in here all night.”
I turn off the water and grab a towel, wrapping it gently around her before she can reach for it herself. She lets me, her cheeks pink, her smile small and shy in a way that makes my chest ache.
“You don’t have to—” she starts.
“I want to,” I say quietly, meeting her eyes.
I pat her skin dry slowly, careful and tender, memorizing every curve and freckle. She leans into my touch, and I swear my heart beats harder at the trust in that small gesture. When I am done, I grab another towel for myself and then scoop her into my arms, carrying her down the hall.
She laughs softly. “I can walk, you know.”
“I know,” I say, smiling despite how serious I feel inside. “But I like carrying you.”
When we reach my room, I set her on the bed, the towel slipping a little as she sinks into the sheets. She looks up at me with those dark, soft eyes, and I feel like the ground tilts under me.
I get into bed beside her, pulling the blankets over both of us. The air is quiet, heavy with everything we just did. I brush her damp hair back from her face and press a kiss to her temple.
