Page 61 of Shadowed Hearts: Frost (Nightfall Syndicate #2)

"Jesus, Vanessa."

When we reach my bedroom, she pushes me down onto the bed's edge. The mattress dips under my weight. She pulls my t-shirt over her head in one fluid motion.

My mouth goes dry.

I've seen her body before, mapped every inch with hands and mouth, but this time feels different. This time, she's in control, revealing herself like a gift I never knew I deserved.

Her breasts are perfect. Small and firm, dark nipples pebbled with arousal. Pink streaks in her hair catch sunlight streaming through windows.

She fits in my space, in my life.

"You're staring."

No self-consciousness in her voice. She seems pleased by my attention.

"Hard not to. You're beautiful." The words escape before I can stop them, honest and unfiltered.

Her cheeks flush pink, matching the streaks in her hair, and she moves closer, standing between my spread knees. Her hands rest on my shoulders, the slight tremor in her fingers revealing nerves mixing with excitement.

"I've never done this before," she admits. "Been in control, I mean."

The confession makes my chest tight. She's trusting me with this, just as I'm trusting her.

"And I've never given up control." My hands find her waist, thumbs stroking smooth skin just above her leggings. "And yet here we are."

She leans down and kisses me, soft and sweet at first, then deeper as her confidence builds. Her hands tangle in my hair, and I let her control the pace, the angle, the intensity.

It's terrifying and exhilarating at once.

When she breaks the kiss, we're both breathing hard. She steps back just far enough to hook her thumbs in her leggings waistband, and my cock strains against my briefs as she slides them down her legs.

No underwear. Of course.

She stands before me naked, and I've stopped breathing. Sunlight bathes her skin in gold, highlighting every curve and plane of her body.

Perfect. All smooth skin and gentle curves, with that inner strength that anchors her even when her thoughts spiral.

"Lie back."

Authority in her voice goes straight to my already hard cock.

I follow, shifting up the bed until my head hits pillows. She follows, crawling over me with feline grace, dark hair creating a curtain around us as she straddles my hips.

Her body settles against mine, warm and soft and real, the heat of her pussy pressed against my cock through thin boxer briefs, melts what's left of my brain.

I grip sheets to keep from flipping us over and taking control.

She notices my white-knuckled grip and smiles. "Having trouble letting go?"

"You could say that." My voice sounds strained even to my own ears.

Her hands move to my chest, fingernails scraping over skin as she rocks her hips against me. The friction is perfect and nowhere near enough.

I'll lose my mind if she doesn't touch me soon.

"Tell me what you want," she whispers, leaning down so her breath warms my ear.

The simple question breaks me.

What do I want? I want her naked and writhing beneath me. I want to bury myself so deep inside her until we can't tell where I end and she begins.

But more than that, I want to give her this…this moment of power, of control.

"You," I manage to say. "Just you."

Her smile lights her entire face, and she kisses me again, pouring all her affection and desire into the connection of our mouths. When she pulls back, her eyes shine with unshed tears.

"I love you," she whispers, words bare.

My heart stops. Stops, then restarts with a rhythm I've never felt before—harder, faster, like it's trying to break free from my chest and find its way to her.

"Vanessa..."

"You don't have to say it back all the time," she says fast. "I just needed you to know."

But I do want to say it back. I love her.

I love her chaos and her brilliant mind and the way she makes my ordered world better just by being in it.

The depth of this feeling still unnerves me. Love remains the one variable I can't predict or control. Love got Sarah killed because I wasn't there when she needed me.

But looking at Vanessa, seeing the way she trusts me even as she takes control, the way she accepts my darkness while bringing her own light, fear means nothing compared to the possibility of losing her.

"I love you too." The words taste like freedom.

Her tears fall then, happy ones that she brushes away before leaning down to kiss me again. This kiss is different. Deeper, more desperate, full of promises and the kind of forever I never thought I'd want again.

When she breaks away, she sets her face. She shifts back, hands moving to my boxer briefs waistband.

"Off."

I lift my hips to help her strip away the last barrier between us.

My cock springs free, wet at the tip, and she wraps her small hand around me with confident strokes that makes my vision blur at the edges.

"Fuck, yes." The words tear from my throat as she works me with increasing pressure, thumb sweeping across the head to spread moisture.

She watches my face as she touches me, her eyes tracking every reaction, every twitch and gasp.

Like she's studying me the way she studies code, her fingers conducting an experiment with my body as the willing subject.

And I'm surrendering to every touch.

Every stroke of her hand pushes me closer to the edge until I'm balanced on a knife's point between control and surrender.

"Not like this," I manage to grit out, my hand covering hers to still the movement. "I want to be inside you."

Her eyes darken, and she releases her grip on my cock, positioning herself over me instead. The heat of her pussy hovers just above me, and her wetness slides along my length without taking me inside.

When did my sweet, coding genius become this confident seductress?

Then she's positioning herself over me again, the head of my cock pressing against her entrance. We both freeze for a moment.

This moment settles between us.

"You sure?" I ask, even though stopping now might kill me.

"Never been more sure of anything." She sinks down onto me, taking me inch by inch.

She's tight, hot, and perfect around me, and I have to grip the sheets again to keep from thrusting up into her. She needs time to adjust, and giving her that control, letting her set the pace, is both torture and the sweetest pleasure I've ever known.

When she takes me completely inside her body, we both groan at the sensation.

She feels like home, like the missing piece I never knew I was searching for.

"Move," I beg, my voice rough with need. "Please, Vanessa."

She begins to rock against me, slow first, then with growing confidence as she finds the rhythm that works for us both. Her palms flatten against my chest, and she gives herself over to the feeling, her head tilting back as her lips part around quiet moans of pleasure.

She's beautiful. Uninhibited, chasing her pleasure with complete abandon. It's the most erotic thing I've ever seen, and the image burns into my memory forever.

My hands find her hips, not to control but to anchor, to ground us both as she builds the rhythm higher and faster. She's close. I can tell by the clench of her inner walls around me, by the breathless sounds she's making.

"That's it," I encourage, my voice rough with my own approaching release. "Take what you need from me."

She does, grinding against me with increasing need, and when her orgasm crashes over her, the sight and sound of her coming apart above me awakens something raw in my chest. Her pussy squeezes around me, working my cock as she cries out my name.

It takes everything I have not to follow her over the edge.

But I'm not done with her yet.

While she's still shaking from her orgasm, I flip us over, reversing our positions so she's beneath me, dark hair spread across my white pillows like spilled ink.

"My turn," I growl against her ear, and the way her eyes widen tells me she's ready for whatever I have planned.

I pull out, then thrust back into her with enough force to make the headboard hit the wall. She gasps, nails digging into my shoulders, but wraps her legs around my waist, pulling me deeper.

This is what I know. Take control, drive us both to the edge and beyond.

My hips establish a hard rhythm that has her arching beneath me, her second orgasm building quickly.

"You belong to me now," I say against her throat, tasting salt on her skin. "Say it."

"Yours," she gasps, her body tightening around me. "Always yours."

The words shatter what's left of my control. My own release tears through me with raw force, every muscle in my body tight as I fill her with a growl that comes from deep in my chest.

"Fuck, I love claiming you."

For long moments after, we lie tangled together, our breathing returning to normal, her fingers tracing light patterns on my chest.

The constant mental noise that's lived in my head for fifteen years has gone quiet. Not the dangerous quiet of a sniper's perch, but the peaceful silence of being where I belong.

"So," she says, her voice holding that familiar hint of mischief. "Does this mean I can reorganize your sock drawer?"

I laugh. The sound surprising us both. "You can reorganize whatever you want."

She props herself up on her elbow, studying my face with those sharp eyes. "Even your gun cleaning kit?"

"Don't push it."

But she's grinning, and I know she will. She'll push every boundary, challenge every wall I've built, turn my ordered world upside down in the most beautiful ways possible.

And I can't wait.