Lost Her On The Ice, Now He Was Begging novel · Chapter 4 of 24

Chapter 4: Her Bed

I texted him four words at ten o'clock.

Back stairs. Eleven. Alone.

He was on the landing at ten fifty-two.

I watched him through the crack in the door.

He was a huge dark shape in a wool coat with snow on his shoulders.

He stood perfectly still with his fist raised to knock.

He didn't knock.

He just stood there, breathing.

I opened the door.

My room above the skate shop was one square room with a slanted ceiling, a narrow bed, and a radiator that clanked.

I had been living in it for a year.

It had never once felt small until he walked in.

He shut the door behind him and stood on the mat.

"You should know," he said, "that I haven't been with anyone since you."

"Three years?"

"Three years."

"That's a stupid thing to tell me."

"I know," he said. "I wanted you to know what you're getting."

I stood in front of him in a long grey t-shirt and nothing else.

His eyes went down my bare legs and came back up.

"I'm not forgiving you," I said.

"I know."

"I'm taking something. That's all this is."

"Take it," he said, rough. "Take whatever you want."

I pulled the coat off his shoulders and let it fall.

I pulled his sweater up over his head, and the room filled with the smell of snow and cedar and him.

His chest was broad and scarred, and a compass was tattooed on his forearm.

A thin white line ran across his left knee where the surgeon had gone in.

I put my palm over his heart.

It was slamming.

I pushed him backward until his legs hit the bed.

"Sit."

He sat.

I stepped between his knees, took the hem of my shirt, and pulled it over my head.

His whole body went still.

I had nothing on underneath.

His gaze caught, stunned and starving.

His lips were parted, and his hands were fisted in the blanket.

His hands lifted off the blanket toward my waist.

"No," I said.

He swallowed.

"Not yet," I said.

I put my hands on his shoulders and pushed him down onto his back.

He went flat across my narrow bed with his feet still on the floor.

I unbuttoned his jeans and dragged them off him, and his briefs with them.

He was already hard.

He was long and thick and flushed to a dark red, standing up against his stomach.

I wrapped my hand around him and stroked him twice, just to hear him groan.

"I've missed this," I said, before I could stop myself.

"Kaisa."

"Don't."

I climbed onto the bed.

I straddled his hips, my knees on either side of him, and I didn't take him inside me.

I rubbed myself against him instead, slowly, sliding the wet heat of me along his length until he arched under me and cursed.

My clit dragged over the ridge of the head, and I gasped.

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