Page 45 of Love Worth Gold
The kid nodded, already looking back at the screen in front of him.
Once on the third floor, the corridor stretched long and fluorescent, empty except for someone’s muffled TV two doors down. They moved quickly but not frantically. Their boots were quiet on the carpet. Halfway down, voices crept out of a room with its door open. Blaire steered them wide, then had to bite down on a laugh when Isaline made an exaggerated spy-creep past it.
“You’re ridiculous,” Blaire whispered.
“You’re smuggling the enemy into American athlete territory,” Isaline shot back, eyes bright with mischief. “This is an international incident.”
Blaire pressed her knuckles against her mouth to muffle the laugh threatening to break loose. Warmth flooded her chest at how easy this felt.
Blaire nudged the door shut with her heel. The space felt tighter with Isaline inside, as if the walls themselves noticed the shift. Her race gear lay in organized heaps as she had left it—suits draped over a chair, boots lined up by the wall, sponsor stickers peeling on a forgotten protein drink bottle. The light of the lamp caught the glint of the gold medal on the nightstand. Blaire paused, her breath hitching for a split second, then crossed the room in two strides. She lifted the medal with the ribbon trailing through her fingers and slid it into a drawer with a quiet thud. Tonight, the medal was not the centerpiece.
Isaline’s eyes softened as heat flickered across her face. “It feels good to be here. We both have medals. And finally, we don’t have to choose between gold and… this.”
Isaline shrugged off her jacket. The pull between them sparked sharp and familiar, a current Blaire knew how to ride. But she didn’t dive in with her usual assertiveness. There were no calculated moves to wordlessly steer a woman straight to the bed. Instead, she stepped close, and her hands found Isaline’s jaw. Her thumbs brushed the edges of her cheekbones.
The kiss started slow. It was a lingering press that deepened only when Isaline sighed into it. Her fingers curled into Blaire’s hoodie, dragging her closer like she’d been wanting to do since that aborted make-out session in the training room. A quiet, disbelieving laugh bubbled up between them, breaking the last brittle edge of tension, and Blaire felt her chest unclenchas she smiled against Isaline’s mouth, finally letting herself lean in.
They shed layers of clothing with unhurried ease. Hoodies, base layers, socks, bras and panties were tossed aside. Blaire’s hands moved with intent, but not the kind she’d wielded in St. Moritz. Back then, there had been little emotional connection. It had been about release, a quick, controlled burn. A crush that had now turned deeper. She lingered, trailing her fingers along Isaline’s arms, watching for the subtle hitch in her breathing. “Is this okay?” she murmured, waiting for the nod before sliding her palm lower. Every touch felt like a question she actually wanted answered, and every shift in Isaline’s frame was a map she wanted to learn as much as she had wanted to ski.
She pressed Isaline down to the mattress. The narrow bed creaked under their combined weight, but there was no hurry to claim or conquer. Blaire braced herself on one elbow as her other hand mapped the curve of Isaline’s hip, drawing out a shiver that made her own pulse jump. She kissed down the line of Isaline’s neck, tasting salt and warmth, and when Isaline’s fingers tightened in her hair, whispering Blaire’s name with that Swiss lilt, a realization sliced through her. This wasn’t just about wringing out gasps or chasing her own edge. It was the first time in years she’d wanted this to carry weight beyond the moment. She wanted sex to mean something beyond proof of her control.
Their rhythm built steadily. It was no longer the frantic rush of St. Moritz, but a deeper current of emotion they both let carry them. Blaire traced the arc of Isaline’s ribs with her fingertips, feeling the heat of her skin, and the hitch in her breath when she circled a nipple with her thumb. She kissed her again, swallowing the soft noise Isaline made, and reached between them to find her already slick and arching into her touch.
“Still good?” Blaire murmured against her lips, fingers pausing just at her entrance.
Isaline’s answer was a breathless laugh, her hips canting forward. “I am golden. Don’t stop now.”
Blaire slid two fingers into her slowly, relishing the way Isaline’s body welcomed her with the warm clutch of her around her fingers. She set a relentless pace, curling just right on every other thrust until Isaline’s thighs trembled around her. The sounds she made—half Swiss curses, half English pleadings—sent heat roaring between Blaire’s legs.
“You’re the most beautiful woman I have ever met, Isa,” Blaire admitted roughly, surprised by her own honesty. She bent her head to drag her tongue over Isaline’s clit.
Isaline’s hands fisted in the sheets before sliding up to grip Blaire’s shoulders. Her nails dug in as her breath came faster. “Oh, yes. I’m close...”
Blaire glanced up and their eyes locked. Isaline’s lower lip caught between her teeth, and then she shattered. Her back arched off the bed as pleasure ripped through her with a cry that wasn’t quite muffled by the pillow she’d dragged over her face at the last second. Blaire continued pumping her fingers slowly and didn’t stop until Isaline’s thighs clamped tight around her wrist, indicating she was done.
“Good?” Blaire withdrew carefully, pressing a kiss to the inside of Isaline’s thigh.
Isaline groaned, slinging an arm over her flushed face. “More than good. It feels like a lifetime we have waited for this.”
Blaire smirked as she crawled up the length of Isaline’s body to claim her mouth in a slow, filthy kiss. She let Isaline taste herself on her lips, reveling in the way the other woman whimpered into it. “Don’t fall asleep on me yet. I’m not done with you,” she teased.
Isaline hooked a leg around Blaire’s waist, flipping them with surprising strength and agility for the small space. For once, Blaire let herself be maneuvered. “I’ll have to wait for my seconds. First, I want my chance with you,” Isaline purred, her fingers making quick work down Blaire’s body.
The rasp of her nails down Blaire’s stomach made the Olympian’s hips jerk. Isaline didn’t tease; she went right for what she wanted. She dragged her tongue over Blaire’s neck, scraped her teeth along the curve of a breast, then sucked a nipple into her mouth while her fingers found the heat between Blaire’s legs.
“This is what I’ve wanted,” Isaline murmured against her skin, circling her clit with maddeningly light strokes. “Not just the race. Not just the chase. You. Like this.”
Blaire’s retort dissolved into a moan as Isaline finally pushed two fingers inside. Her body bowed off the bed as her short nails scored red lines across Isaline’s back. “Oh. My. God.”
Isaline crooked her fingers just so, her thumb pressing down on her clit in tandem, and Blaire came with a shout she barely recognized as her own. Pleasure crashed through her in relentless waves. Her vision blurred at the edges as she clutched at Isaline’s shoulders, riding it out until she was weak beneath the Swiss star.
When she finally opened her eyes, Isaline was watching her with a smugness that should’ve been annoying but was somehow endearing. “Still think you’re in control, gold medalist?”
Blaire growled, dragging her down into a kiss that tasted of shared satisfaction. “Always,” she muttered as she released a laugh.
They lay cramped together in the small bed as their breathing gradually slowed. The room was still warm with the scent of them. Blaire pressed her face into the crook of Isaline’sneck, breathing in her sweet shampoo, tropical-scented lotion, and a personal scent uniquely hers. “Switzerland better not want you back too soon,” she mumbled, half into Isaline’s skin.
Isaline chuckled, tracing idle patterns over Blaire’s spine. “I think they will lock me out of the country if my teammates tell them I have slept with the enemy. So, you’re stuck with me, Hollis. Better get used to it.”