Page 102 of Ice Queen

My movements become erratic, and I swear I could come from his words and from getting him off alone.

I drop to my knees in the grass, taking him into my mouth in one fell swoop. He hits the back of my throat, making me gag, but I don’t let up. My hand grabs him at the root as I lick and suck until his thighs are shaking beneath me.

His hand finds its way into my hair as he pulls me off him. “I want to paint you.”

My eyes widen when I realize what he means. My hand working overtime as I twist and squeeze at the crown. He jerks in my hand, the veins in his neck popping with the force he’s putting on his jaw. Two more pumps and he’s coming all over my chest.

Hot ropes hit my skin, and we both stare at the mess he’s made. It’s beautiful, the evidence of what I do to him, here, displayed on my skin like a marking. One I’d gladly wear forever.

“Hell.” He rubs it in, a smirk pulling at his lips. “I didn’t think you could get any more beautiful, but I was sorely mistaken. You’re a masterpiece, wearing me like jewelry.”

He pulls me to stand and kisses me with such fervor that my toes curl. I slide my hand that isn’t covered in him into his hair, tugging and hoping that he picks up on my desire to take this inside. Or maybe we can keep it going right here. I’ve never had outdoor sex. Maybe I should make a list of places I want him to take me.

To my dismay, he doesn’t. Instead, he picks me up, throws me over his shoulder, then jumps back into the pool. The chill of the air mixed with the warmth of the water as we make contact is the cruelest form of temperature play on my bare bottom half.

He doesn’t care, and with the smile plastered on his face, I don’t either. So he does it a few more times, his laugh getting louder each time, it’s music to my ears.

We spend the next hour swimming, talking about anything and everything. His favorite color is navy, and his favorite food is Paella, which I already knew. I promised I’d try it, as long as I didn’t have to smell it being cooked. His dream vacation is the Amalfi Coast.

Our conversation trails off, and after I get a little uncomfortable with the silence, I turn my head to look at him. He's staring up at the sky like he’s looking for something. Whatever he finds makes his shoulders drop.

He takes a breath and leans against the water, floating on his back. “Do you want kids?”

I swallow thickly, do I?

I love Cam, but he’s really the only baby I’ve ever been around. I didn’t want kids with Wyatt because that would have been selfish as hell. But with Markus?

“Yeah, I think that was a dream I gave up a long time ago.” I match his posture, leaning back so I’m floating on top of the water. “Wyatt wasn’t exactly father material. And my parents, well, my failed relationship with them while they were alive will always be my biggest regret. But I think it also made me think I’d be a horrible parent.”

“I’ve seen you with Cam.” His hands find the small of my back, holding me in place on top of the water. “The thought of you carrying my baby got me hard after seeing you with Cam the other day.”

I playfully smack his chest with the back of my hand. “Whatever.”

“I’m serious.” He puts one hand under my knees and carries me out of the pool. “I thought about all the stories I’d read to your belly. All the meals I’d get to cook for you.”

He lays me down on a pool chaise, dragging his hand over my stomach. “I thought about how I’d get a front row seat to watch you grow my baby.” He growls before placing a kiss right above my belly button.

“Thought about the ring I’d put on your finger, too.” He chuckles. “One that you could see from the moon, but you’d hate that, wouldn’t you?”

I nod, my lips parting slightly at his admission. He’s thought about these things? Before I did?

Emotion overwhelms me. I should have known what I had with Wyatt wasn’t love. I should have known to believe in the stupid fairy tales my mom read. Because this? This is otherworldly. This six-foot-six giant of a man, who looks like he would tear your head clean off your body, gives me the gentlest, purest form of love I’ve ever experienced.

“I love you,” I blurt out. Hoping he doesn’t run for the hills.

I’m pleasantly surprised when his face splits into a smile. “Te quiero, mi reina,” he responds. “I love you, My Queen.”

I let the words settle over me, warmth blooming in my stomach. “Queen?”

He nods, a small uptick at the corner of his lips makes me bite down softly on my own.

“Yeah.” His silver eyes shine in the light of the moon, trailing over my face. “Princesa doesn’t seem like a good enough title anymore.”

He rubs his thumb back and forth over my hip, a steady back and forth, keeping me from floating off. He dips his head, softly pressing a kiss to my forehead.

“You’re coming to the final game, right? No matter where it is? No matter if there are four final games, because one of us can’t get our shit together?”

His thumb halts its movement while he waits for my answer.