Page 90 of Cold Feet
"Then drive faster," I whispered against his skin.
By the time wepulled into his long, curving driveway, we were both desperate, our bodies shaking with need.
He was out of the car in an instant, opening my door and pulling me into his arms. He closed the door behind me and instantly pressed me against the passenger door, the cool metal against my back contrasting with the heat that radiated from his body. His eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that stole my breath away. It was as if every cell in my body was drawn to him, and I couldn't look away even if I wanted to. His hand slipped from my hip, traveling slowly up my body, tracing a path that left a trail of fire in its wake. When his thumb brushed over my bottom lip, I couldn't help but let out a soft gasp.
Everything about this moment felt magnified – the pounding of my heart, the electricity in the air, the way his fingers lingered on my cheek. It was more than just attraction; it was a desperate, overwhelming need that had been building since the moment we met a decade ago. His other hand pressed against my lower back, pulling me closer until there was no space left between us. I could feel every hard line of his body, every muscle taut with the same urgency that pulsed through me.
Our breaths mingled, each ragged inhale and exhale a testament to the desire we'd been holding back for so long. His eyes, darkened with lust, never left mine as he leaned in closer, his lips hovered just above mine. The anticipation was almost painful, a sweet torture that I both craved and feared. When he finally pressed his lips to mine again, it was explosive – a release of all the pent-up tension that had been simmering between us.
His kiss was demanding, hungry, and I met it with equal fervor. Our bodies pressed together, I couldn't get enough of him – the taste of his lips, the feel of his hands, the urgency in his touch.
Suddenly, he scooped me up in his strong arms and carried me to his front door like I was weightless. Like some insanely sexy warrior throwing me over his shoulder to take me home and ravish me. I wrapped my arms around his neck, feeling the corded muscles beneath his skin.
My heart pounded against my ribs, and I could feel his breath hot on my cheek as he whispered, "I've wanted you for so long." The urgency in his voice sent a shock of desire through me, and I tightened my grip on him, pressing myself against his chest. His lips found mine in a fierce, hungry kiss that promised everything. We couldn't get inside fast enough; the need between us was palpable, a fire that had beensmoldering for years was now burning out of control.
His fingers fumbled slightly with the keys – a small, humanizing detail that made my heart squeeze. Cam Murphy, hockey heartthrob and NHL superstar, wasnervous.
Finally, the lock clicked and he swung the door open wide. We tumbled inside, our bodies entwined, our hearts pounding in sync.
"Baby," he whispered, his voice filled with a reverence that made my heart ache. His hands cupped my face, his thumbs brushing gently over my cheeks. "Tell me you want this. Tell me you want me."
I looked into his eyes, seeing the reflection of my own desire, my own longing. "I want this," I whispered, my voice steady and sure. "I want you, Cam." A thought I'd never admit bubbled up out of nowhere:I've always wanted you.
A slow smile spread across his face, and he leaned down, capturing my lips in another searing kiss. "Would you like a drink, or a tour, or a..." he asked, gently setting me down.
"Bed," I whispered breathlessly, my hand still grasping his.
"Or bed," he grinned.
We stumbled up the stairs. We couldn't wait, couldn't slow down. Every touch, every kiss was a claim on the other.
We made our way into Cam's bedroom, a wild, delicious chaos of limbs and laughter. His hands roamed over my body with a desperate hunger, and I responded in kind, my fingers tracing the hard lines of his muscles, feeling the heat of his skin through the fabric of his dress shirt.
Cam's lips found mine again, drawing me in with the heat and urgency between us. I surrendered to the sensation, letting everything else fade away. There was only us, only this moment, only the overwhelming need that pulsed through our bodies.
His hands slipped under the hem of my dress, pushing it up and over my head. I raised my arms, helping him, and then I was bared before him, clad only in my black lace bra and panties. He pulled back slightly, his eyes traveling over my body with such naked appreciation that I felt beautiful, powerful, desired in a way I never had before.
"Beautiful," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "You're so fucking beautiful, Lana."
I reached for him, my fingers fumbling awkwardly at the hem of his shirt. He covered my hands with his own, helping me, and then his shirt was gone, tossed aside, leaving him bare-chested and breathtakingly, unattainably gorgeous.
I couldn't help but stare and give a few seconds of reverence for the fact that I was essentially living out the fantasy of thousands, probably hundreds of thousands, of Cam's fans who would gladly pawn all their worldly possessions for a chance to be where I was right now.
And it would be totally worth it.
His torso was a masterpiece of athletic perfection, all defined muscle and golden skin, marred only by the scars and fading bruises that were the badges of his profession.
I reached out, tracing the bruise that bloomed along his ribs – likely from the fight defending Zayne earlier. "Does it hurt?" I asked softly.
His eyes, hooded with desire, held mine. "Not enough to matter," he replied, his voice rough with need.
I leaned forward, pressing my lips to the bruise in a feather-light kiss. His breath hitched, and his hand came up to tangle in my hair.
Cam faced me, his expression suddenly uncertain again. "I've thought about having you here so many times," he admitted softly. "But the reality of you being here with me... it's better than anything I imagined."
The vulnerability in his voice undid me. I stepped forward, placing my hands on his bare chest, feeling his heart thundering beneath my palm. "Show me," I whispered. "Show me what you've imagined."
Suddenly, he grinned like it was Christmas morning. "You asked for it, Cupcake Queen. But just so you know, I have avividimagination."
