a moth around a flame, desperate for whatever part of him heâll let me have.
I know itâs in my eyes, know he must see my own vulnerability and desperate need as clearly as I see his. And in this one tremulous but perfect moment, it feels right. In a world spinning so rapidly beyond my control, it feels . . . good.
He conditions my hair with the same care that he washed it and by the time heâs done, Iâm shaking all over again, this time for very different reasons. He pops the drain, helps me stand, then dries me off before sweeping me back into his arms and carrying me to my bed.
Then he moves to my dresser, one of the few things that didnât burn in the fire I set last week with my less-than-stellar magic. He pulls out a nightshirt. But when he comes back to me and tries to slip it over my head, I rip it from his hands. Throw it across the room. And reach for him. Just him.
He meets me halfway, slams his mouth down on mine in a kiss so intense, so powerful, so
possessive
that it feels like a brand. Which should offend my feminist sensibilities but doesnât because the kiss Iâm giving him is exactly the same.
Lustâraw, carnal, overwhelmingârises up in me. I reach for the hem of his T-shirt and fumble the thing over his head before going for the button on his jeans. They prove to be more difficult, not just because my hands are shaking so badly, but because the bottom half of each leg is wet and heavy and clinging to his calves.
He curses as he wrestles with them, his voice a low, guttural growl. Seconds later he gives up the fight, mutters a spell that has the jeans disappearing into thin air. Any other time Iâd probably be awedâtransubstantiation is a rare gift in the Hekan world, and a difficult task no matter how talented the practitioner. But right now all I care about is that Declan is naked and aroused and pressed intimately against me.
I wrap my arms and legs around him, desperateâstarvedâfor the feel of him inside me. He has other ideas, though, and as he presses slow, sweet kisses to my throat and shoulders, I know he plans another long, drawn-out seduction.
I canât take that, though, not now when my entire body is threatening to spontaneously combust. Bracing a foot on the bed for leverage, I roll us over until Iâm the one on top, looking down at him.
His eyes are dark and bottomless, filled with the same urgency thatâs tearing at me with razor-sharp claws. I push myself into a sitting position, then sink down on him in a move so smooth and quick, it has me moaning and him jerking beneath me.
Desperateâdeliriousâwith desire, I start to move, settling into a rhythm that has Declanâs body arching beneath mine and his eyes rolling back in his head. One of his hands goes to my breast, pinching and plucking at my nipple, while the other fastens itself to my hip in a gesture so possessive it takes away what little breath Iâve managed to hold on to. And then heâs lifting his hips, driving himself deeper inside me.
The tension is building inside me, hotter and sweeter and more desperate than ever until nothing matters but Declan and the way he feels inside me, the pleasure that slams through me with every stroke, every touch, every breath.
Declan is close, too. I can feel it in the rock-hard thighs that have gone rigid beneath me and the strong fingers that clutch my hips so tightly that I may very well have new bruises when this is over. I donât mindâitâs exhilarating, not to mention sexy as hell, to know that Iâve driven him to thisâthat Iâve brought a man of Declanâs strength to the brink of mindlessness.
Sensation swamps me at the thought and my eyes drift closed. Iâm right there at the edge, my body poised to explode with just one moreâ
âXandra.â
My eyes spring open at the dark command in Declanâs voice and once again lock onto his.
I know itâs in my eyes, know he must see my own vulnerability and desperate need as clearly as I see his. And in this one tremulous but perfect moment, it feels right. In a world spinning so rapidly beyond my control, it feels . . . good.
He conditions my hair with the same care that he washed it and by the time heâs done, Iâm shaking all over again, this time for very different reasons. He pops the drain, helps me stand, then dries me off before sweeping me back into his arms and carrying me to my bed.
Then he moves to my dresser, one of the few things that didnât burn in the fire I set last week with my less-than-stellar magic. He pulls out a nightshirt. But when he comes back to me and tries to slip it over my head, I rip it from his hands. Throw it across the room. And reach for him. Just him.
He meets me halfway, slams his mouth down on mine in a kiss so intense, so powerful, so
possessive
that it feels like a brand. Which should offend my feminist sensibilities but doesnât because the kiss Iâm giving him is exactly the same.
Lustâraw, carnal, overwhelmingârises up in me. I reach for the hem of his T-shirt and fumble the thing over his head before going for the button on his jeans. They prove to be more difficult, not just because my hands are shaking so badly, but because the bottom half of each leg is wet and heavy and clinging to his calves.
He curses as he wrestles with them, his voice a low, guttural growl. Seconds later he gives up the fight, mutters a spell that has the jeans disappearing into thin air. Any other time Iâd probably be awedâtransubstantiation is a rare gift in the Hekan world, and a difficult task no matter how talented the practitioner. But right now all I care about is that Declan is naked and aroused and pressed intimately against me.
I wrap my arms and legs around him, desperateâstarvedâfor the feel of him inside me. He has other ideas, though, and as he presses slow, sweet kisses to my throat and shoulders, I know he plans another long, drawn-out seduction.
I canât take that, though, not now when my entire body is threatening to spontaneously combust. Bracing a foot on the bed for leverage, I roll us over until Iâm the one on top, looking down at him.
His eyes are dark and bottomless, filled with the same urgency thatâs tearing at me with razor-sharp claws. I push myself into a sitting position, then sink down on him in a move so smooth and quick, it has me moaning and him jerking beneath me.
Desperateâdeliriousâwith desire, I start to move, settling into a rhythm that has Declanâs body arching beneath mine and his eyes rolling back in his head. One of his hands goes to my breast, pinching and plucking at my nipple, while the other fastens itself to my hip in a gesture so possessive it takes away what little breath Iâve managed to hold on to. And then heâs lifting his hips, driving himself deeper inside me.
The tension is building inside me, hotter and sweeter and more desperate than ever until nothing matters but Declan and the way he feels inside me, the pleasure that slams through me with every stroke, every touch, every breath.
Declan is close, too. I can feel it in the rock-hard thighs that have gone rigid beneath me and the strong fingers that clutch my hips so tightly that I may very well have new bruises when this is over. I donât mindâitâs exhilarating, not to mention sexy as hell, to know that Iâve driven him to thisâthat Iâve brought a man of Declanâs strength to the brink of mindlessness.
Sensation swamps me at the thought and my eyes drift closed. Iâm right there at the edge, my body poised to explode with just one moreâ
âXandra.â
My eyes spring open at the dark command in Declanâs voice and once again lock onto his.
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