Page 61 of Secret Nights and Northern Lights
Ben carries me up the steps to the loft as I run my lips down the columns of his throat, breathing in the cottony scent that clings to his skin. I run my tongue over the pulse point in his neck, and desire floods my lower belly. But when we reach the top of the stairs and the king-size bed comes into view, I wiggle my hips until Ben sets me on my feet again. “I’m all dirty and gross. I need to shower first.”
“I’ve dreamed of this for fourteen excruciating years,” Ben sighs, “a little mud doesn’t matter to me in the slightest.”
I kiss his mouth again, because, god, I can’t seem to stop doing that now that I’ve started. Then I step back, pull my shirt over my head and toss it to the floor, then slide my wool leggings and socks off so that I stand before him in only my sports bra and cotton underwear. His eyes roam down my body and back up, darkening with a need that sends goose bumps scattering over my skin. “I never said you couldn’t join me.”
Those green eyes snap back to mine, and I take his hand and pull him into the attached bathroom. Ben’s thumb strokes up and down mine as I lean into a tiled shower, which has a large window displaying the view of Akureyri, and turn on the water. As we wait for the water to warm, he pulls me into his arms and kisses me slow and deep, tasting like sangria and cinnamon and everything I’ve ever wanted.
We separate as I tug two layers of thick wool shirts over his head at once, needing to feel his skin against mine. Before I can run my hands over his bare chest, he spins me and presses me against the cabinets across from the shower, and I watch our reflections in the mirror above the sink as he sweeps my messy braid to the side and kisses the back of my neck. A thrill zips down my spine and tightens my nipples against my sports bra at the feel of his warm mouth on my skin.
In the mirror, his gaze sharpens as he gently bites the spot where my shoulder meets my neck, and I gasp as arousal pulses hot and wet between my thighs. “Ben, I need you,” I plead, breathless and impossibly turned on. “Now.”
He yanks my hips backward so I feel his erection press against my ass. “Trust me, Ems, I need you, too. But I’ve waited too goddamn long to rush this. I want to worship every single inch of you. I don’t care if it takes all night long.”
Steam swirls around us as it pours from the open shower door at our backs and fills the room, but Ben makes no move to leave our place at the counter, and with the way my knees are shaking, I don’t think I could move if I wanted to.
Ben traces his fingertips upward over my ribs, eyes never straying from our movements in the mirror. When he reaches theedge of my bra, I lift my arms so he can pull it over my head. He discards it to the floor as my hair falls back around my shoulders.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he tells me, his warm breath a caress on the back of my neck.
One hand settles on my lower stomach, pressing me close, but the other trails up my ribs again, lightly brushing over my skin with reverence. It could almost tickle, but he applies just enough pressure to make my skin tingle with anticipation instead. When he reaches the underside of my left breast, he pauses. “Can I touch you here?”
“You can touch me anywhere,” I say, voice raspy. “Please.”
In the mirror, one side of Ben’s mouth quirks up. “Just making sure we’re still on the same page.”
His fingers brush over the peak of my breast at the same time his mouth settles back on my neck, and it’s almost too much, too good. Losing control, I press my hips back against the bulge in his pants, seeking whatever friction I can find. Ben groans against my shoulder, cupping my breast in his hand and teasing my nipple with his thumb. The mirror steams up as the room heats, condensation clouding the edges. But there in the center, I watch us. Watch Ben’s strong arms encircle me, watch his other hand dip lower now, fingers disappearing beneath the edge of my black cotton panties. His middle finger slides through my slickness, and we both curse.
“I’m so wet,” I tell him, even though he’s currently discovering that for himself. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this turned on before.”
“That makes two of us,” he replies, teeth scraping the hinge of my jaw.
I watch as Ben continues to slowly devour me, mouth and hands competing to see which can drive me the maddest, and it’s the most erotic moment of my life.
“I like watching us,” I tell him, and I don’t know why these confessions fall out of my mouth like one domino knocking over the next in line, but I also can’t locate the slightest desire to put a stop to them. “In the mirror, I mean. I love your hands. I love seeing them touch me.”
Ben’s mouth leaves my throat as he lays his forehead against my shoulder and takes a deep, shuddered breath. “Jesus Christ. You might actually kill me before tonight’s over.”
“What a shame that’d be when I haven’t even gotten you inside of me yet.”
With another strained groan, Ben lifts his head, then, deliberate and slow, slides my underwear off my hips. “Wouldn’t want to block your view.”
It’s my turn to groan as Ben returns his fingers between my legs, stroking me with just enough pressure to make me crave more. I watch his finger slide inside me, and I bite my lower lip to keep myself from crying out. He removes his slick finger, circles my clit and then reinserts it, and my spine arches involuntarily.
I don’t recognize this woman in the mirror in front of me. Her cheeks are flushed, her lips swollen and red. Her dark hair is tossed to one side, her nipples tight and begging for attention. She’s reaching behind her to guide Ben’s mouth back to her neck with one arm, and her other hand slides up to roll one of her nipples between her fingers.
“We look so fucking good together,” I tell him as I tease andcaress myself, and his eyes roam over us as he slides another finger inside me, casting me closer to the edge. “But I don’t want to come yet.”
He removes his fingers and takes a step back, both our reflections looking absolutely ravaged. “We should slow down then. I’m not nearly through with you yet.”
He’s probably right, but how exactly do you slow a force fourteen years in the making? “Let’s shower,” I say, stepping forward and unbuttoning his hiking pants. I push those along with his boxer briefs down his hips, and he steps out of them, pulling off his socks in the process. When he straightens in front of me, I take his length in my hand, and his eyes squeeze closed as his head drops back.
“If you don’t want either of us to come yet, you’re going to have to stop touching me,” he says after only a few gentle strokes of my fingers.
So I take his hand and pull him into the shower with me.
The hot spray rains down on us from above, sliding over my skin like silk as I undo my braid and run my fingers through my hair. Ben starts to close the glass door behind us, but I stop him. “Leave it open,” I say, jutting my chin toward the mirror across from us. “We can still watch with it open.”
“You’re so goddamn sexy,” he replies, voice deep and gritty.
