SO COLD (18+) currently editing

Chapter 76.7

SO COLD

           

Chests rose and fell. Naked bodies shifted, hands reached for crumpled sheets at the end of the bed to pull over hips. Mouths met softly this time, gentler than moments ago, eyes fluttering shut in the rise of the morning sun peeking through the blinds in soft yellow light. Then broke apart, content. There was a wetness between my legs and I needed a shower – not yet though. My energy was spent.

My head rested on Cole's chest, his arm around my back, my right leg sprawled across his own. I shifted, fingers brushing through his beard and thumb grazing against his lips as I watched him. Now that I was content, I didn't mind spending the rest of the morning talking about all the ways he made me feel. I leaned up to kiss him on the mouth and then rolled over to the other side of the bed, bunching the covers up to my chest. He leaned towards me, propped up with an elbow on the pillow, hand on his head. His gaze was hooded, sultry. His mouth quirked up slightly as I looked at him. "Comfortable?"

"Very," I said, brushing a hand through my hair away my face, I angled towards him. "We should shower."

"We should but..." he tore away the covers from my grip, chest meeting chest as he moved on top, mouth bruising against my own. He pulled away slightly. "I know you have something you want to say,"

There was a sudden crash of glass. Our bodies tensed, faces turning to the door. Cole was reaching for the semiautomatic on the nightstand when we heard Vyacheslav curse Trevor for dropping the coffee mug. Shoulders relaxed. Cole dropped his head in the crook of my neck, he placed a kiss on the quickened pulse of my throat, voice low. "Tell me."

"I'm thinking about all the things I like about you,"

"Oh?" there was a trace of amusement in his tone.

"It's a very short list. I probably wouldn't even call it a list actually."

His hands traced patterns on my skin, on inflamed areas, travelling lower, a slow tantalising trawl. He made a noise in the back of his throat in response, kissing just under my ear.

"I love your eyes, the way you look at me," I brushed through his hair, fingers curling around his curly locks.

"You used to blush fiercely when I would look at you," his hands moved lower still, "remember?"

"You must be cheating because that sure as hell was never me," I resorted immediately.

He laughed. "Carry on."

"I love your mouth, I love the start of your smile, when you're looking at me and you say something that makes me roll my eyes, and then you smile. Ah. I love that more than anything. Or if one of us says something funny – and let's be honest, I'm talking about me, I'm the funny one in this relationship – and the way you laugh and all I can think about is wetting your beard until sunrise, but my favourite has to be when you purposefully lower your voice, and your mouth quirks up into this wicked smile and you look at me – I could be sent to an eternity of damnation for all the sinful things I think of when you do that."

"Such as?" hooded eyes met mine, a gleam of mischief hidden by mock innocence.

I gasped slightly as he inserted his finger inside of me, followed by another.

He slanted an eyebrow in concern. "What's the matter, sweetheart?" He withdrew his fingers, and then pushed them back in the slickness. "You're looking a little heated."

I tried raising a leg, thighs pressing together and he used his free hand to part my legs, gripping my left thigh tightly.

"Be a good little slut and don't do that again," he dominated, voice gruff, mouth on my throat once more, sucking on the tender skin and giving colour.

"You know what else I love?" I said in a haze of lust and slowly-building sensations of pleasure.

"What else?" the sounds of his fingers fucking me were loud in the room of slow breaths and a whirring fan.

"The way you carry yourself, the demanding presence and confidence you exude, and how powerful you are. Not just physically but in your mannerisms. And you're often stubborn, sometimes wanting to hold worries and troubles to your chest, but when it matters you confess of your stresses and you're able to acknowledge that you've fucked up or something's gone wrong." My hips rose off the bed. It was so close. "But most of all... I love your money."

He paused, eyes meeting mine in surprise.

I laughed. "And the way you make me feel – whether that's in the bedroom or when we're in a room full of your men. It's the tightness in my chest or the butterflies in my stomach. The days where I fall asleep with you and wake up to sunlight on your face. The content I feel when we're alone together watching a TV series. Or as I'm finishing eating dinner and you're out in the back garden throwing a ball to Greece. The soft touches and the small kisses as we meet during the day or pass by one another, the way I miss seeing you after a few hours of going without, and just..." I fought a moan, teeth clenching together. "I love seeing you in everything you do. I could watch you all day – well, not all day, I've got shit to do, but you get my point." I finished breathless and unable to continue as the pleasure became overwhelming and I groaned, curses and his name tumbling out of my mouth in one breath.

The climax was explosive, I gushed.

"I love you, too," he sucked the juices off his fingers, sultry eyes meeting mine.

In that moment there was no uncertainty: he was the one I was always going to want. I kissed him, blissfully unaware of how I would recall back on this moment when in the end it didn't matter how much I loved him, nothing mattered and nothing would ever be right ever again.

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i only updated today so i could say ive updated thrice in three days bc im honestly amazing and ive never met anyone as great as me