Page 50 of Charmed

He ran his tongue across his teeth and crooked his finger, beckoning her.

She crossed her arms, expression dialed to nah.

God save him from this woman. A lift of his brows, and he summoned her again.

Impish smile.

Mercy, he couldn't get any harder if she casted a spell and turned him to stone. Last time. "Over here, witch."

She defiantly angled her chin. "I don't come on command."

And...that was it. Bon voyage restraint.

"Think again." A sarcastic laugh rumbled his chest as he stalked toward her. Feet became inches and shrank to nothing. He wrapped an arm around her waist, hauled her halfway up his body, and wove her strands around his hand. A gentle yank tugged her head back. "You'll not only come when I want you to, you'll do it often."

Satisfaction heated her turquoise depths. Her lashes fluttered. Her cheeks went from pink to crimson. She expelled an uneven breath and moaned. "Prove it."

He inhaled. Hard. The way he figured, it was the last time he'd get to breathe.

Blood rushed through his veins, hot and igniting a feverish burn enroute. He nipped her lower lip, then moved to her ear and grazed his teeth along her lobe.

She trembled.

He grinned.

Dipping his head, he opened his mouth and latched onto her neck. He flicked his tongue, trailed it over her soft, scented skin, following the path of her tendon to the pulse beating wildly.

She whimpered.

He grinned wider.

Giving her hair another tug, he shifted to the other side of her neck and offered it an identical amount of attention. Fair was fair. He stopped at her ear, caressing the shell with his lips.

"Riley," she whispered, half-begging, half-demanding.

The sound of his name, the desperation with which she spoke it, stole the last of his will. He crashed his mouth to hers and turned them toward his room.

Chapter Fourteen

Fiona's toes dragged on the hardwood floor as Riley half-carried her into his bedroom, their mouths fused in a war she wasn't sure who was winning. She got the barest glimpse of navy wallpaper, matching drapes, and black Tudor-style furniture in his massive cavern before he slammed the door and pressed her back against it.

He broke away long enough to yank off his tee, then came right back at her like a man starving. He ate at her mouth, devoured her. Hot, deft strokes of his tongue had organized chaos threaded amidst the implication. Soft, firm lips held hers captive, brushing in a hesitant caress one second and bruisingly punishing the next. He seemed to say Save-me and I've-got-you in the same dominating, bipolar beat.

His kiss alone told her he was at the razor's edge and would gladly accept any punishing, inflicting slice if it meant remaining here with her. Consequences be damned. It was as if he couldn't make up his mind between the submission of taking his time or dropping the last guard and letting the beast out of its cage.

The result had her manic. Shoving her hands in his hair, she clenched the strands and arched into him. She ached. Everywhere, she ached. He satiated the hunger while building her need to a fragile breaking point. She whimpered at the maddening contradiction.

His five o'clock shadow deliciously grazed her cheeks the deeper he took the kiss. He dipped his hands under her shirt, splaying his fingers over her belly and sending currents through her system. He brushed the underside of her breasts before he must've decided he hated the barrier.

Off went her top. Her hair hadn't even settled in place, and they collided. Skin to skin. He crushed her against him, held her there with solid arms banded around her, cushioning her from the unyielding door. His woodsy scent invaded her system, became all she could breathe in, and she gladly filled her lungs.

Without warning, he dropped to his knees and dug his fingers into the waistband of her pajama bottoms. She reeled from the whiplash. Determined gaze on his task, he tugged her shorts and panties down her legs. The more of her he exposed, the hotter his gray-green eyes burned until his pupils all but swallowed the irises.

He tossed her garments over his shoulder, grabbing her hips like he required an anchor. Except, he didn't move. Just stared at what he'd uncovered with reverence, raggedly panting on his knees in prayer.

She trembled under his exploration. The desperation from moments ago faded. In its place was a fragmented piece of tenderness that seemed to halt time mid-tick. She was unaccustomed to the particular emotion filling his eyes, to the point she couldn't put a name to it. The slightest wrinkle formed between his brows like he knew, though. And he obviously hadn't been expecting whatever he'd concluded because his lips parted on a silent inhale and ten distinct fingertips dug into her flesh.

For the first time in her adult life, nerves danced in her belly at what would come next. Sex wasn't a new activity for her. She'd had lovers. She'd had admirers. But she'd never had someone gaze upon her as if they were truly seeing her instead of merely looking. Uncertainty shattered the safety he tended to invoke with his presence, sending her heart rate careening out of control.

---