Page 51 of Megan's Mate
“You want me.” Feeling reckless, she edged closer, until her mouth slid over his. “You want to touch me.” She lifted his fisted hand to her breast, her heart pounding like a drum as his fingers opened, cupped. “And for me to touch you.” Her hands stroked down his chest, felt the quiver of his stomach muscles. So much strength, she thought, so ruthlessly chained. What would it be like if those links snapped free?
She wanted to know.
“Make love with me now, Nathaniel.” Eyes half closed, she linked her arms around his neck, pressed her eager body to his. “Show me how much you want me.”
He held himself in check, concentrating on the flavor of her mouth. It would be enough, he told himself, to make her float again.
But she had learned quickly. When he sought to soothe, she enticed. Where he tried to gentle, she enraged.
With an oath, he dragged her up until they were kneeling, body to body. And his mouth was wild.
She answered avidly each urgent demand, each desperate moan. His hands were everywhere, hard and possessive, taking more only when she cried out for it. There was no calm water to sink in now, but a violent tempest that spun them both over the bed in a tangle of hot flesh and raging needs.
He couldn’t stop, no longer gave a damn about control. She was his, and by God, he would have all of her. With something like a snarl, he clamped her hands above her head and ravished her flesh.
She arched like a bow, twisted, and still he plundered, invading that hot, wet core with probing tongue until she was sobbing his name.
And more, still more, wrestling over the bed with her hands as rough and ready as his, her mouth as bold and ravenous.
He drove himself into her, hard and deep, hissing with triumph, eyes glazed and dark. His hands locked on hers as she rose to meet him.
She would remember the speed, and the wild freedom, of their mindless mating. And she would remember the heady flavor of power as they plunged recklessly off the edge together.
She must have slept. When she woke, she was sprawled on her stomach across the bed. The rain had stopped and night had fallen. When her mind cleared, she became aware of dozens of small aches, and a drugged sense of satisfaction.
She thought of rolling over, but it seemed like too much trouble. Instead, she stretched out her arms, searching the tumbled bed, knowing already that she was alone.
She heard the bird squawk slyly. “You know how to whistle, don’t you, Steve?”
She was still chuckling when Nathaniel stepped back into the room.
“What do you do, run old movies for him all day?”
“He’s a Bogart fan. What can I tell you?” It amazed him that he felt awkward, holding a dinner tray while a naked woman lolled in his bed. “That’s a pretty good scar you’ve got there, sugar.”
She was much too content to be embarrassed when she saw where his eyes had focused. “I earned it. That’s a pretty good dragon you’ve got.”
“I was eighteen, stupid, and more than a little buzzed on beer. But I guess I earned it, too.”
“Suits you. What have you got there?”
“Thought you might be hungry.”
“I’m starving.” She braced herself on both elbows and smiled at him. “That smells terrific. I didn’t know you cooked.”
“I don’t. Dutch does. I cadge handouts from the kitchen then nuke them.”
“Nuke them?”
“Zap them in the microwave.” He set the tray down on the sea chest at the foot of the bed. “We’ve got some Cajun chicken, some wine.”
“Mmm... “She roused herself enough to lean over and peer at it. “Looks wonderful. But I really need to get Kevin.”
“I talked to Suzanna.” He wondered if he could talk her into eating dinner just as she was, gloriously naked. “Unless she hears from you, Kevin’s set to spend the night with them.”
“Oh. Well.”
“She says he’s already knee-deep in video games with Alex and Jenny.”
