Her mouth was on mine before I could comprehend what I’d just admitted to her. Her tongue licked at the seam of my lips, and I opened on instinct, then groaned at the taste and feel of her. Fuck, I hadn’t imagined it, hadn’t blown it out of proportion. Our chemistry was combustible.
I raised a hand to the nape of her neck, then slid my fingers into her hair, not caring that I was fucking up her little messy bun. Then I tilted her head and kissed her hard and deep, pouring every single ounce of my need and frustration from the last week into it. I kissed her like I’d wanted to when she’d walked out of my bathroom in that damned silk nightgown. Like I’d wanted to every morning when I found her sleeping peacefully next to me.
She gripped the back of my neck and held me tight against her, whimpering slightly when I’d pull back, just to fall into her again. How the hell was I going to walk away from this woman when I was already addicted to her?
I’d been addicted since the moment we met.
Her hands slid down my torso, and I felt my shirt rise over my stomach. I broke our kiss and raised my arms as she took it off. She looked over my body with hungry eyes that showed nothing but appreciation. Then her fingers followed just above my skin, no doubt remembering how I’d reacted in the locker room, air-tracing my tattoos from the dragon that breathed fire from my left shoulder to the inked hands that looked as though they were reaching across my pecs to grip the flaming, crowned heart detailed in the center of my chest.
“It’s the only empty place,” she whispered as her fingers framed the colorless, empty heart. “Why?”
“To remind me that no one owns me.”
Her gaze flickered to mine, but I let her finish her exploration up my neck, where the tats ended until she cupped my face. “You are extraordinary.”
I kissed her in reply, pulling her against my chest, then lifted myself in the same motion to spin her back on the bench so she sprawled out beneath me. This thing was three feet wide, and I was suddenly thankful for every inch. She broke away, sending my hoodie, then her tank top to the floor, leaving her in a cream-colored lace bra that cupped her breasts.
“God. Persephone. Don’t—” I shook my head, but she was already tugging me back down to her mouth, to her kiss that stole my words away.
I trailed kisses down her jaw, then skimmed her neck, pausing just above that magical little place that had driven her mad in the study. I tested my little theory, kissing, then sucking lightly on the spot.
She arched beneath me as goosebumps rose down her arms, so I did it again and again until her fingers threaded through my hair, and she sighed my name.
One day I’d make her scream it.
Ignoring the caution lights in my brain, I kissed my way down to her collarbone, then to the valley between her breasts. Persephone might have been petite, but her breasts weren’t—they were the perfect size to fill my hands, but not overflow them. The pale, soft orbs rose with every breath, and my mouth fucking watered as I lowered my lips to the nipple that showed through the lace.
“Persephone?” I asked, hovering above her.
“God, yes!” She arched, bringing her breast to my lips. I licked and sucked her through the fabric while I palmed its partner, then groaned when she filled my hand exactly like I thought she would. She was so responsive beneath me, like a living flame, and I wanted to feel her skin under my tongue, not this lace.
I reached under her back and unfastened her bra with one hand. She stripped it off herself, leaving her bare to the cool air of the rink. Perfect breasts. Perfect, pink nipples. Perfect Persephone.
“I told you. Fucking flawless.” Our eyes locked for an instant, hers glazed with want.
She cried out when I sucked her into my mouth, my tongue swirling over her as her hips rose beneath me. I let myself rock against her once, my cock hard and insistent at the seam of her pants.
“Cannon,” she moaned, sending another jolt of white-hot need down my spine. Her hand reached across my abdomen, and I barely caught her before she got to my cock. “Please? Let me.”
I rose above her. “You touch me, and we’ll violate rule number five,” I growled against her mouth.
“Then fuck rule number five.” She stared up at me with heavy, crystal blue eyes. “Please, Cannon. I want you. I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you.” She nipped at my lower lip to make her point.
Her first time wasn’t going to be on a goddamned bench. It wasn’t even going to be with me. Pain, sharp and vicious, ripped through my chest at the thought, but it was true. The only way to get us out of this thing unscathed was to hold to that fucking rule.