Page 114 of Daddies on Ice

One moment we’re arguing, the next his hands are in my hair and his mouth is on mine.

The kiss is desperate, hungry, full of all the frustration and desire we’ve been holding back.

I melt against him, my hands fisting in his sweater as he backs me toward the bedroom.

His lips trail down my neck, finding that sensitive spot that makes me gasp.

He lifts me easily, carrying me to his bed.

The sunlight filters through the curtains, casting everything in a golden glow. His hands shake slightly as he helps me out of my clothes, his touch reverent, worshipful.

“I need you,” he says, his voice rough with emotion.

When he kisses me again, it’s different from our first time.

Less desperate, more thorough. He takes his time exploring every inch of my skin, his mouth and hands mapping my body like he’s memorizing it.

I arch beneath him as he trails kisses down my throat, across my collarbone, lower.

His stubble scratches against my sensitive skin, sending shivers through me. When his mouth finds my breast, I cry out, my fingers tangling in his hair.

“Ash, please…”

He looks up at me, his brown eyes dark with desire. “Tell me what you need.”

“You,” I gasp. “All of you.”

He moves over me, settling between my thighs. When he enters me, we both groan at the sensation. He stills, letting me adjust, his forehead pressed against mine.

He begins to move, slow and deep, each thrust sending waves of pleasure through me.

I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, and he groans my name.

The rhythm builds between us, urgent and primal. His hands grip my hips as he drives into me, and I can feel myself climbing toward the edge.

“Look at me,” he commands, his voice strained.

I open my eyes, meeting his gaze as the pleasure crests. The intensity in his brown eyes pushes me over, and I shatter around him with a cry. He follows moments later, my name on his lips as he buries his face in my neck.

We lie tangled together afterward, our breathing slowly returning to normal.

His fingers trace lazy patterns on my bare shoulder, and I can feel the tension building again despite the satisfaction thrumming through my body.

“This is what I want,” he says finally, his voice quiet but firm. “You, in my bed, in my life. Just us.”

I close my eyes, the weight of his words settling over me. “Ash…”

“I know you have feelings for Jake and Carl too,” he continues. “But I’m asking you to choose. Choose me. Choose us.”

I sit up, pulling the sheet around myself. The morning is late, and I need to pick up Becky.

“I need time,” I say, reaching for my clothes.

“How much time?” His voice is carefully controlled, but I can hear the frustration underneath.

“I don’t know.” I pull on my sweater, avoiding his eyes. “This isn’t just about what I want, Ash. There are other people involved. Becky, your career, the team…”

“The team will be fine. And Becky likes me.”