Page 93 of Cold Feet
He looked down at me, his eyes filled with an intensity that stole my breath away. Without a word, he shifted his hips, his cock brushing against my entrance. I ached with need, my body opening up for him, yearning for the connection.
And then he was inside me, filling me completely. I gasped at the sensation, my eyes fluttering closed as waves of pleasure washed over me. He began to move, slow at first, then faster, each thrust sending waves of ecstasy through my body.
"Okay?" he whispered, his control visibly tenuous.
"More than okay," I breathed, wrapping my legs around his waist to draw him deeper. "Don't stop."
What followed was unlike anything I'd experienced before. It wasn't just the physical pleasure – though that was undeniable, Cam's athletic body moving with a precision and strength that left me breathless. It was the connection between us, the way he watched my face as if memorizing every expression, the way he seemed to know exactly what I needed before I did.
Our breaths mingled, our bodies slick with sweat, as we moved together, lost in the rhythm of our lovemaking. Every touch, every kiss, every whispered word felt deeper and more profound than anything I'd ever experienced.
As the pleasure built inside me again, I clung to him, my nails digging into his back, my legs tightening around his waist. When I finally exploded beneath him, crying out his name, he followed soon after, his face buried in my neck, his body tensing as he spilled into me, my name a ragged chant. We clung to each other, our bodies trembling with our release, our breath uneven and raw.
When the world finally came back into focus, I opened my eyes to find Cam looking down at me, a tender smile on his lips. He brushed a strand of hair from my face, his thumb tracing the curve of my cheek.
"I've wanted this for so long," he whispered against my ear, his lips brushing against mine with each word. "You.I've wantedyou. Only you."
The admission was gasoline thrown on kindling. Every part of me ached to be closer to him. I pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, seeing the raw desire in his eyes. There was no pretense now, or carefully crafted images. Just the two of us, stripped bare and exposed in a way that was both terrifying and exhilarating.
We lay entwined, our bodies slick with sweat, our breaths coming in ragged gasps. His hand found mine, his fingers interlacing with mine as if to say,Here. I have you. I'm not letting go.
"This is my favorite outfit on you," he teased.
"Oh, naked?" I laughed. "You just want me to run around all day naked as a jaybird?"
"Notallday, " he teased, bringing my hand to his lips. "You're not naked, you're wearing this." He lightly kissed the sapphire ring before curling my hand and his against his heart.
"Well," I said, "the engagement may be fake, but the orgasms definitely aren't. Cam Murphy, you put the dirty in dirty blond." He laughed, a deep rumbling laugh, and buried his face in my hair.
As we lay tangled together, my head on his chest, I listened to his heartbeat gradually slow. His fingers moved in their usual lazy patterns on my bare back. I felt more content, more at peace, than I could remember feeling in years.
"That was..." I began, then trailed off, unable to find adequate words.
"Yeah," he agreed, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. "It really was." He leaned in, his forehead touching mine, his breath mingling with mine in a dance as intimate as any we'd shared. "I don't want to lose this," he whispered. "I don't want to lose you."
My heart swelled with emotion, the words a balm to the wounds of the past, to the fears that had haunted me for so long. "I don't want to lose you either," I said, my voice barely more than a whisper.
Moonlight bounced off the bay and streamed through the large windows casting long shadows across the decimated bed. For the first time as I looked around the masculine, tastefully decorated suite, I noticed the photos on the walls – not family portraits, but images of Cam and his teammates, snapshots of a life lived on and off the ice. There was a picture of him and Zayne in their college days, arms slung around each other, grinning widely. One of Cam and Coach Rocco goofing around at a charity golf game. Another showed theentire Slashers team celebrating their Stanley Cup win, Cam and Logan front and center, holding the trophy high.
But it was the photo of Cam with my father that caught my eye. It was a candid shot, probably taken during a practice session back at Boston University. My dad was standing on the ice, arms crossed, deep in conversation with Cam and Zayne. The three of them looked so serious, so focused, so... right. Like they belonged together. Like they were family.
The realization hit me like a slapshot.Thiswas Cam's family – not blood relations or step-parents, but the team, the players, the coaches. The people who had been there for him, who had supported him, who had made him the man he was today.
We lay in comfortable silence for a while, just breathing together, skin to skin. I traced the tattoo on his ribs – a small, simple design I'd never noticed in team photos.
"What does it mean?" I asked, fingertips outlining the geometric pattern.
He was quiet for a moment. "It's a Norse protection symbol. I got it after my first really bad concussion my rookie year. The doctors weren't sure if I'd play again."
I raised my head to look at him, surprised. "I didn't know it was that serious."
"Not many people did." His fingers continued their gentle exploration of my back. "I was terrified. Hockey was... everything. The thought of losing it..." He shook his head slightly. "Anyway, I got the tattoo as a kind of talisman. Stupid, maybe, but it helped."
"It's not stupid," I said softly, pressing my lips to the symbol. "We all need something to believe in. Also, it's kinda hot."
He laughed as his arms tightened around me. "What do you believe in, Lana?"
The question caught me off guard. "I believe in hard work," I said after a moment. "In family. In the game." I hesitated, then added quietly, "I'm still working on believing in myself sometimes."
