Ten Below Zero(33)

He carried me through the living room into his room. My heart picked up, thrumming hard in my chest. His hand slid down one leg, stopping at the skin behind my knee. I was wearing shorts, which allowed for his hand to travel up and down the back of my thigh, his fingers pressing into skin. I wanted to feel his hands everywhere, all at once. I wanted the pressure of his hands all over me. I wanted to be buried in his touch.

His hands snaked back up to my back, where the waistband of my shorts met my skin. He hooked his fingers into the waist band and yanked, muttering a curse in my mouth. I reached between us, unsnapped the button there and a second later, he set me on the ground, yanking my shorts down to my ankles. I shook them off, kicking them away. When I looked back up, he was whipping his shirt off his head. My eyes greedily took in the side of his torso, all lines and ridges and ink. My eyes caught on the words on his ribs, under his heart.

“This world has only one sweet moment set aside for us,” I whispered. The words were vaguely familiar, and though the words weren’t extraordinary by themselves, when strung together in a sentence, they resonated with me. I looked up at Everett and saw him staring intensely at me. He brought his hands up to frame my face.

“No talking,” he whispered back.

“Okay.”

He grinned, the skin around his eyes crinkling. It was then that I noticed how bright the room was. It was the middle of the day, and the sun streamed through the curtains, lighting up the entire room. My eyes darted to the window, but Everett grabbed my chin firmly in his hand and turned his face to me. “Just you and me, Parker.” His voice brought me back to the moment. I nodded, swallowing hard.

He moved his hands to my waist and bunched up the fabric of my top. “Off,” he said, slipping his hands underneath the bottom hem of the shirt. The moment the pads of his fingertips grazed over my torso, my stomach muscles clenched. He grinned, moving his hands up over my ribcage, pulling the tank with him. When he was up over my bra, I lifted my arms and allowed him to pull the tank top off. When I was free of the shirt, his hands came down to my shoulders, rubbing the tension from them. I closed my eyes and let out a breath through my mouth. And then his hands moved, down my arms. When his hand reached the scar along my left arm, I opened my eyes and held my breath.

His thumb ran along the raised skin, but his eyes were locked to mine. When he reached my wrist, he pulled up my hand and placed a kiss in the center of my palm, all the while keeping his eyes on me, with me. I suppressed a shudder, scared. I wanted to get back to the heat of the moment before. This more than sex. All I wanted was sex, not intimacy.

I slipped my fingers in the top of his jeans and pulled him close. With my thumb and forefinger, I unsnapped the top of his jeans. I moved my hand to the top of my zipper before I felt Everett picking me up and tossing me onto his bed. A second later he covered my body with his. “I’m in control.”

“No talking,” I replied, repeating his earlier demand. He smiled softly again before sitting up, straddling me.

He looked down at me, seemingly taking me all in. I wasn’t uncomfortable with my body. I was ambivalent about it. The way Everett was looking at me was anything but ambivalent. He placed a hand on the center of my chest and pulled it down, tugging on the center of my bra before moving on. I heard him hum in his throat and I reached up to touch him.

He caught my hand on its ascent and held it still. He shook his head and trapped my wrist between his middle finger and thumb. I narrowed my eyes and lifted my other hand, only to have it trapped the same way. He shook his head again, before leaning forward and holding both of my hands in one of his, bringing our hands to rest above my head. I squirmed, my body’s instinct to fight him taking over. I bucked my hips, but he pulled back to eye me. He held me still in his stare. But it only lasted a moment before I twisted my hands, releasing them from his grasp.

Before he could try to trap them again, I grabbed the back of his head and yanked, pulling his mouth to me, kissing him and then pulling back. I breathed against his lips for a moment, more to catch my breath than anything. And then his teeth tugged my lip and I moaned. I couldn’t even be embarrassed.

One of his arms came to wrap around my back, supporting me as we kissed partially inclined on the bed. His hand slid open the snaps of my bra. Everett leaned back on his legs, pulling me up with him until we were sitting up straight, facing each other. My bra hung loose on my shoulders. His hands glided up my arms to the shoulder straps. He teased me then, his fingers playing with the straps, tugging them nearly free and then running his fingers under them.

Impatient, I shrugged forward so the straps slid off. The cups stayed on my breasts. Everett looked me in the eyes while he brought both hands up to cradle the bra.

He paused. We stared at each other, breathing heavily. I felt nearly drunk on desire and anticipation. The room was clear of sound, but full of sound too. Deep breaths, raging heartbeats. And then everything happened at once.

Everett pushed me back down, flat on my back on the bed. In a flash, he whipped off my bra and tugged my underwear down my legs and off, onto the floor. And then he stood at the side of the bed and stripped himself of his clothing. I stared, brazenly. His body was beautiful, but not because it was perfect. It wasn’t. He had scars down his ribcage, biting into the ink he had there. His stomach was sculpted, tanned like the rest of his body, but there was another scar cut into one side of his belly. Imperfections were what thrilled me, not the shape, color or size of his body. My eyes traveled further down; his desire was evident. I looked up at his face, watching him watch me.