the building itself had taken a breath and held it. She was alone in the house, he knew. He sensed it. Her friend Claire—the woman McCulloch spent too much time lusting after—wasn’t there, though in the last few weeks, she had been spending more time here than not. Maggie’s family was in the house at the back of the yard and even Bezel was tucked away in his tree.
This moment was theirs . His and Maggie’s. Even if she didn’t realize it. If she wouldn’t allow his touch when she was awake, he would stir her soul, her mind, her body, in her sleep.
Should he have been ashamed of intruding on her dreams? He wasn’t. He would do what he must to bring her to him. To show her what it would be like when they came together. As it was meant. “You will feel me, Maggie,” he whispered. “Your dream will become reality.”
Then he laid his hand to the side of her head, closed his eyes, focused, and built her dreams.
Maggie knew she was dreaming, but still she sighed as Culhane’s hand cupped her breast; then that sigh became a groan when his skillful fingers tugged and pulled gently at her hardened nipple. Her center went hot and wet and needy and she whispered his name, turning into his touch.
“Culhane . . .”
“I’m here, Maggie. With you. Always with you.” He bent his head and took first one hard, sensitive nipple into his mouth, and then the other.
She whimpered, arching into him, in need, needing so much. His hands slid over her skin and in the moonlight, his green eyes glittered silver as he lifted his head to meet her gaze. There was want stamped on his features. A hunger deeper than any she’d seen on his face before. A need so deep, so rich, she quivered at the thought of fulfilling it.
But this is what she wanted, too. She wanted him inside her. Wanted to forget what had brought them together. What threatened to tear them apart. She wanted only the touch of him. The slide of his skin on hers. The silken glide of his long, black hair against her heated body. The taste of his mouth. The thick, hot length of him, buried deep within her.
She wanted it all.
Now.
“Take me,” she whispered, cupping his face in her palms. “Please, Culhane, take me.”
“I want nothing more,” he vowed, and slid down along her body, hands exploring, mouth trailing hot, damp kisses on her skin.
She called out his name again and lifted her hips from the bed, demanding fulfillment, but he ignored that maneuver and instead, tortured her slowly. With more kisses. Each caress was a testament to his strength and her hunger. Her skin flamed, her blood boiled and still she hungered. Still she needed.
His mouth moved lower, down, over her abdomen, across her thighs, and then to the very heart of her. Maggie felt his breath on her most sensitive flesh and held her own breath while she waited, praying, hoping that he would end the torment and give her what she so desperately needed.
Then he took her, his mouth closing over her center.
She jolted, moaned his name aloud and moved into him, lifting herself for him, fisting her hands in the sheets beneath her so that she wouldn’t slide off the edge of the world.
His lips and tongue worked her, moving over her, in her, tasting, seducing, licking. His breath brushed her skin, his hands cupped her behind, lifting her higher, holding her off the bed, his fingers kneading her flesh even as his mouth took her places she’d never been. Never thought to be.
Maggie felt as if her whole body were alight, sparkling somehow with an inner brilliance that was spilling through her system, engulfing her, claiming her.
Then he pulled back, drawing away from her, leaving her body pulsing, humming, screaming for the release that was so close, that even in her dream, Maggie could sense it.
“No, don’t stop, Culhane. Don’t leave me like this. . . .”
“Come to me, Maggie,” he whispered, his mouth beside her ear now, his breath sliding across her cheek. “Come to me and I
This moment was theirs . His and Maggie’s. Even if she didn’t realize it. If she wouldn’t allow his touch when she was awake, he would stir her soul, her mind, her body, in her sleep.
Should he have been ashamed of intruding on her dreams? He wasn’t. He would do what he must to bring her to him. To show her what it would be like when they came together. As it was meant. “You will feel me, Maggie,” he whispered. “Your dream will become reality.”
Then he laid his hand to the side of her head, closed his eyes, focused, and built her dreams.
Maggie knew she was dreaming, but still she sighed as Culhane’s hand cupped her breast; then that sigh became a groan when his skillful fingers tugged and pulled gently at her hardened nipple. Her center went hot and wet and needy and she whispered his name, turning into his touch.
“Culhane . . .”
“I’m here, Maggie. With you. Always with you.” He bent his head and took first one hard, sensitive nipple into his mouth, and then the other.
She whimpered, arching into him, in need, needing so much. His hands slid over her skin and in the moonlight, his green eyes glittered silver as he lifted his head to meet her gaze. There was want stamped on his features. A hunger deeper than any she’d seen on his face before. A need so deep, so rich, she quivered at the thought of fulfilling it.
But this is what she wanted, too. She wanted him inside her. Wanted to forget what had brought them together. What threatened to tear them apart. She wanted only the touch of him. The slide of his skin on hers. The silken glide of his long, black hair against her heated body. The taste of his mouth. The thick, hot length of him, buried deep within her.
She wanted it all.
Now.
“Take me,” she whispered, cupping his face in her palms. “Please, Culhane, take me.”
“I want nothing more,” he vowed, and slid down along her body, hands exploring, mouth trailing hot, damp kisses on her skin.
She called out his name again and lifted her hips from the bed, demanding fulfillment, but he ignored that maneuver and instead, tortured her slowly. With more kisses. Each caress was a testament to his strength and her hunger. Her skin flamed, her blood boiled and still she hungered. Still she needed.
His mouth moved lower, down, over her abdomen, across her thighs, and then to the very heart of her. Maggie felt his breath on her most sensitive flesh and held her own breath while she waited, praying, hoping that he would end the torment and give her what she so desperately needed.
Then he took her, his mouth closing over her center.
She jolted, moaned his name aloud and moved into him, lifting herself for him, fisting her hands in the sheets beneath her so that she wouldn’t slide off the edge of the world.
His lips and tongue worked her, moving over her, in her, tasting, seducing, licking. His breath brushed her skin, his hands cupped her behind, lifting her higher, holding her off the bed, his fingers kneading her flesh even as his mouth took her places she’d never been. Never thought to be.
Maggie felt as if her whole body were alight, sparkling somehow with an inner brilliance that was spilling through her system, engulfing her, claiming her.
Then he pulled back, drawing away from her, leaving her body pulsing, humming, screaming for the release that was so close, that even in her dream, Maggie could sense it.
“No, don’t stop, Culhane. Don’t leave me like this. . . .”
“Come to me, Maggie,” he whispered, his mouth beside her ear now, his breath sliding across her cheek. “Come to me and I
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