Page 154 of Ignition

I sat back on my haunches and ran a tender palm over her, smoothing residual tension with every pass.

“I’ve got you.”

Her muscles jumped under my touch, as if a live wire hummed beneath her skin.

Look at you. So wrecked. So beautiful.

So mine.

Chapter forty-seven

Josh

The minutes stretched, and still, the air hung thick with the scent of flushed skin, sex, and Mia’s breath fogging up the car.

Tiny tremors passed through her from time to time, coming from a hitch in her hips and going all the way to her toes.

With a gentleness that scared the shit out of me, I sat back, legs spread, removed my hand gingerly from her, dragging out a helpless little noise, and pulled her up and into my arms.

Her body moulded to mine, limp and boneless, and I held her tighter, biting down on an entirely too satisfied purr rumbling deep in my chest.

Hushed praise rolled from my lips like smoke as I pressed small kisses everywhere I could reach: the top of her head, her brow, her temple, her befreckled shoulders.

She nuzzled into my neck like a kitten, kicking up protective instincts I didn’t even know I had.

My teeth ground together as I teetered between holding her and—

I’d just watched her come—which would live rent-free in my mind, full with high-quality audio—and my first impulse was to do it again, over and over, until she was begging me to stop, and only then—

I dragged in a pained gulp of air that sounded more like a groan and focused on trailing soothing lines over her back and shoulders, feeling her breath settle a little with every pass.

“You okay?” I finally asked, voice like water washing over stones.

She lifted her head.

My heart stumbled.

The definition of “purring like a cat” peered up at me—glazed-over eyes, flush high on cheekbones, mouth swollen from a hundred bites and kisses—and I fought a slow smile and lost.

“I feel… liquid,” she murmured, voice sandpaper-hoarse.

My lips stole hers in silent acquiescence, while inside, my heart was trying to break through my ribs.

I did this.

This controlled, reserved woman, with a tongue that could make grown men cry, lay curled up all shattered in my arms—as though she trusted me to cradle her while she fell apart and sewed herself back together.

“Liquid, huh?” I whispered, voice a little hoarse with what felt suspiciously like emotion.

“Shall I hold you until you turn solid again?”

My fingers threaded through her hair while my eyes drank her in like she was the most exquisite whiskey I’d ever tasted.

Every time I looked into those shimmery green depths, I had the urge to say something stupid. I tucked her head under my chin—so I wouldn’t be tempted—and wrapped my arms tighter around her.

“Yeah, maybe just a little bit,” she murmured, turning so her cheek rested right over my galloping heart. I prayed she wouldn’t read too much into it.

With snow falling outside the car, cocooned in silence, I didn’t know how long we lingered—breathing slowing and syncing, bass humming low, carried by an entirely too intimate song.