Page 5 of Party Crasher
"Cade," she whispers, and my name on her lips sounds like a prayer.
4
JOSIE
Snow swirlspast the window in lazy, glittering spirals, like the storm is slowing down just to watch us. Cade’s forehead rests against mine. His breath is warm and uneven. His lips taste faintly of peppermint and heat. It’s the kind of contrast that makes me dizzy.
He smiles, and it’s just the tiniest curve of his mouth. Then he kisses me again. It’s slower this time. More deliberate. Like he’s unwrapping a gift, and he doesn’t want to rush. The fire cracks and pops in the background. Shadows sway across the cabin walls.
The space between us disappears in an instant. One second I'm standing there, heart hammering against my ribs. Next, Cade's hands are framing my face. His thumbs trace the line of my cheekbones. The man is taking in every inch of me.
I love the way I see myself reflected in his eyes. I feel desired, beautiful, and worthy of this moment. Right now, Cade is choosing me. I know it’s only for tonight, but it’s too delicious to resist. Outside, the storm keeps us locked away from the rest of the world. Inside, everything is warm and safe and achingly alive.
The firelight dances across his features. It casts shadows that make him look both dangerous and vulnerable. Being this close, I can see the flecks of gold in his dark eyes. But the slight scar above his left eyebrow is still there, too. I remember when he slipped against the lockers and got it. He's still that boy I knew, but he's so much more now, too. He’s all broad shoulders and controlled strength. It’s an intoxicating combination.
My fingers thread through his hair while his mouth blazes a trail down my throat. He moves lower, planting kisses until he places a gentle bite where my neck meets my shoulder. A soft moan escapes my lips in response. The sound seems to unleash something in him because suddenly, his hands are everywhere.
Cade lifts me effortlessly. He spins us around until my back hits the mantel and sends Christmas ornaments tumbling to the floor. He catches my sign mid-fall.
“Which is it?” His words are a growl against my ear. “Naughty or nice?”
“Definitely naughty,” I breathe, and his answering grin is pure sin.
That's all it takes.
My pulse leaps, hard and fast. It’s like it’s trying to outrun common sense. Cade’s gaze locks on mine, steady and unblinking. His stare is all heat and promise. But there’s something deeper there, too.
The air between us thickens. It’s charged, like the space right before a winter storm breaks. His scent is pine from the Christmas tree and smoke from the fire. It wraps around me until I can’t tell where I end and he begins. My breath shortens and matches the uneven rhythm of his. The rest of the world just…falls away.
Our shirts, pants, and underwear disappear in a frenzy of desperate hands and breathless laughter. We leave a trail ofclothing through the living room and down the narrow hallway to the bedroom.
The bedroom is cooler than the living room, the air brushing against my heated skin like a whisper. My breath comes in little clouds I can almost see, but Cade’s presence is a furnace at my back.
The glow from the hallway tree spills in through the cracked door. It mixes with softer light from the strand of bulbs strung along the headboard. The quilt on the cabin’s bed smells faintly of cedar and something sweet. My fingers curl into the fabric, grounding myself against the dizzy rush in my chest.
Cade’s shadow moves across the walls, long and sure, before he turns toward me. His gaze catches the light, warm and unguarded. The sight alone makes me ache. Every step he takes feels deliberate, like he’s savoring the moment before we disappear into each other completely.
When his lips find mine again, it's different from before. It’s deeper and more certain. Our tongues dance, and the kiss becomes urgent. He’s hungry as he works his way down and back up to capture my lips again. His touch is deep and consuming. I let my head fall back and bask in the moment until his lips steal my breath again and replace it with pure need.
The world narrows to just the taste of him. I hear the way his breath hitches when I nip at his lower lip. I revel in the rumble of desire that vibrates through his chest. Then suddenly Cade's above me.
His hands slide down my sides with reverent slowness. When his weight settles between my thighs, my pulse stutters and skips. The string of Christmas lights overhead cast everything in a warm, golden glow, and for a moment, I look up at him.
The faint scent of pine and cinnamon floats into the room. The twinkle lights catch in Cade’s hair and turn the dark strandsalmost bronze. His skin is all heat and shadow. For one dizzy second, I swear the whole scene looks like something out of a snow globe. If snow globes came with men who could undo you with a single look.
Cade’s gaze roves over me like he’s memorizing every detail. His knuckles brush my cheek, then trail down my throat. “You have no idea what you look like right now,” he murmurs, voice low and rough. “Like you belong right here.”
My breath hitches. My fingers curl against the firm muscle of his arms. His thumb traces the line of my jaw and then dips to skim the hollow at the base of my neck. It sends shivers rippling over my skin. The heat in his eyes makes my pulse skip wildly.
I bite my lip, but the smallest smile slips free. “Then don’t look away.”
“Not a chance.” His hand slides lower. His palm finds the curve of my waist before gliding down my side with deliberate slowness.
Cade’s body is chiseled. He’s all hard lines and rough edges. He holds me like he's been starving for something real. The thought makes me ache for him.
He slides a hand between my legs. The heat of his palm crackles against my skin. I arch into his touch with a soft moan that seems to echo off the low ceiling in the old room. His firm length springs up beneath me. He’s rock hard and knocking at my opening. I can’t help but grind against him.
When he slips a finger inside of me, the heat is immediate. His touch is both gentle and possessive. Cade traces circles on my nub, and the sensation leaves me trembling. I’m desperate for more friction.
