Page 87 of The Last Inch Of Ice
Despite everything, Nazar feels his mouth twitch into something almost like a smile.
Kai notices him and abruptly turns away, shoulders tight. He lifts the mug again, knuckles whitening around the ceramic. “Your coffee’s getting cold,” he says.
Nazar forgets how to breathe.
He steps forward before he can think better of it. One arm slides around Kai’s waist, then the other, pulling him backagainst his chest. He feels the sharp inhale Kai takes — feels it under his palms.
Nazar lowers his mouth to the warm skin of Kai’s neck. A shaky exhale escapes him.Damn. Damn.
He can’t believe it’s finally happening.
He can smell him and the scent makes Nazar’s head swim.
Kai turns in his arms, and then they’re kissing.
Nazar catches his mouth, deep and rough, and Kai lets him. The permission alone makes Nazar’s knees nearly buckle. He can’t stop.
Kai’s breaths are hitched and uneven against his mouth, soft sounds slipping out that make heat surge through Nazar so fast it’s almost unbearable.
He’s terrified he’s going to come right there, still half-dressed. He’s waited for this, for any second like this. Any way he could have it. Just to touch him again. To feel him.
They move toward the bedroom in a blind rush, shedding clothes, leaving a trail across the rental’s floors.
When they hit the bed, he pushes Kai onto his hands and knees, and the sight of him — all that pale skin, the vulnerable curve of his neck, the way he’s trembling slightly — makes Nazar pause.
This is what he wanted. What he’s been obsessing over for eighteen months. It is almost too much. He is so ready he’s afraid he’ll come right then.
He stretches him slowly, his touch gentle, almost reverent. “Okay?” he asks, his voice a rough whisper.
Kai just nods, his face buried in the pillows.
His hands skim along Kai’s sides, slow at first. His thumbs press into hip bones, firm enough to anchor him but not to hurt. Kai shivers. Nazar leans forward, chest brushing against Kai’s back, breath hot against his ear.
Nazar enters him, a careful push into the tight heat. He feels the muscles clench around him, and he stops, giving him a moment. “Kai. You okay?”
A muffled sound.
“Tell me,” he pants. “Tell me it’s okay.”
Kai nods again.
“Okay.”
He pushes a little deeper. The friction is incredible. Heat and resistance close around him, overwhelming. His fingers tighten on Kai’s hips without meaning to. He is losing his mind.
He pushes in a little deeper. His breath stutters. His pulse roars. “Say it,” he demands quietly. “Please.”
On the fourth attempt, the word finally comes, a ragged whisper against sheets. “Fine. Great. Just shut up, Rykov.”
Something inside Nazar breaks. This has never happened to him before. This overwhelming, desperate need to know, to be sure.
Nazar grips him harder and pushes forward in one smooth, unstoppable motion. Kai gasps—sharp, choked—his arms trembling as he braces himself. Nazar’s vision blurs for a second. Heat surges through him so fast it almost burns.
He finds a rhythm, hips rolling forward, each movement deeper, heavier. The sound of skin meeting skin fills the room. Kai’s breath comes in broken, uneven pulls, sometimes catching, sometimes turning into quiet, frustrated sounds he tries to swallow down.
Nazar leans over him, chest to his back now, one hand sliding up to wrap around Kai’s throat — not squeezing, just holding. Claiming. His mouth finds Kai’s shoulder, teeth scraping lightly against skin.
It’s too much. Too tight. Too hot. His control slips.
