Beneath Her Ice

Three months into dating Will Bennett, Eliza Darcy had learned at least six new things about herself:

She hated how his socks always vanished in the laundry.

She loved the way he made coffee — extra strong, just shy of reckless.

She despised sharing closet space.

She secretly liked watching his books take over her shelves.

She missed him when meetings ran too long.

She didn't know how to fall in love quietly.

Tonight, she lay on his bed, wearing nothing but one of his T-shirts, stretched long on her thighs. Her hair was loose — the rarest version of her. The soft version. The one no investor ever saw.

Will leaned against the doorframe, a toothbrush hanging from his mouth. His eyes tracked her like a man memorizing something he never thought he'd be allowed to keep.

"You know," he said, rinsing and walking over, "you take up way more space on my bed than you ever did in the boardroom."

She smirked, pulling the blanket higher over her legs. "That's because here, I'm not competing."

He climbed in beside her, warm skin brushing hers, arm settling behind her neck. "You were never competing. You were ruling."

She tilted her head, looking at him. "That a compliment?"

"That's a confession," he murmured, voice husky.

She didn't respond — not with words.

Instead, she pulled him close and kissed him with the kind of need that still surprised her. After months, after dozens of nights tangled in each other's limbs, she still felt overwhelmed by how much she wanted him. How much she needed him.

Will deepened the kiss, sliding his hand under the hem of her shirt — her breath hitched as his fingers danced along the curve of her hip. She arched slightly into him, lips parting.

"Eliza," he whispered against her mouth, "do you know how long I've waited to hear you want me?"

She shifted, rolling over him, straddling his waist, the shirt riding up her thighs. "Then stop waiting."

He didn't need to be told twice.

Hands explored with reverence, lips claimed with fire. Her skin was warm silk beneath his touch, her gasp against his neck a sound he'd dreamt of. There was nothing hesitant now — only the wild, desperate cadence of two people who had fought the world and won a moment for themselves.

She rode him slowly, rhythm controlled, powerful — just like her. But when she came undone, trembling above him, it was with his name on her lips and her guard fully down.

Afterward, they lay breathless, limbs tangled, her head on his chest.

"I could get used to this," she murmured.

Will chuckled, breath still uneven. "I already have."

A beat passed. Then another.

"Eliza," he said quietly. "Have you thought about where this is going?"

She stiffened.

"I don't mean to pressure," he added. "I just... I've never had this before. Not like this. I want to plan for a future that includes you."

She didn't answer right away.

But when she finally looked up, her eyes were soft. Raw.

"I used to think plans were cages," she whispered. "Now... I'm starting to think maybe they can be homes too."

Will smiled, kissed her forehead, and pulled her closer.

No grand declarations. No ring yet.

But something irreversible had shifted.

They weren't just spending nights together anymore.

They were building something.

And this time, Eliza didn't want to run from it.

She wanted to belong.