"Bloody hell, Irish, you after blood? Trying to kill me?" he said with a soft, rough laugh.
"Me? Quit teasing! Kiss me deep! And anytime now you could move— "
He shushed her complaint with his kisses. Small laps, nibbles, kisses at the corners of her mouth, a long slow pull of her bottom lip. Deep again, then away. More torture. He kissed, she realized then, as perhaps only an immortal would. Kissed like a being that had all the time in the world, lazily but thoroughly, savoring every subtle nuance of pleasure, drawing it out, prolonging it. No clocks ticked in his world, no hours sped by. There was no work to get up for tomorrow, nothing more pressing than the passion of the moment. He existed as an immortal lost to immediacy, and being kissed with such in-the-now intensity was devastating. And she had a terrible suspicion that he might dole out the orgasms the same way— only letting her have one when he'd milked from her every bit of anticipation and need that he could.
She was drowning in sensation, the feel of his mouth on hers, the swollen hardness of him against her bottom, the heat of his big hand between her legs.
Then suddenly he broke the kiss and the hand cupping her jaw slid to her waist, raked up inside her shirt, and popped the clasp of her bra. He closed his big hand over one of her bare breasts. She shuddered in his arms, her body bucking forward against the hand between her legs.
"Adam," she gasped. "Move your hand!"
"Not yet." Coolly, unyielding.
"Please!"
"Not yet. Has any mortal man ever made you feel like this, Gabrielle?" he purred, a hint of savagery in that smooth deep voice. "Did any of your little boyfriends ever make you feel this way?"
"No!" The word exploded from her when his fingers closed abruptly on her nipple, pinching the hardened peak.
"No mortal can. Remember that, ka-lyrra, if you think to go back to your silly human boys. Do you know how many times, how many ways, I'm going to make you come?"
"I'd settle for just one if I could have it right now," she hissed, so intensely aroused that she was bordering on hostility. She'd never felt this way before, had no idea how to handle it.
Laughter spilled around her, husky, erotic, alien, dark, purely Adam Black.
"You aren't falling for me, are you, Irish?" he purred against her ear, that infernal hand finally moving up to toy with the button-fly of her jeans.
"Hardly," she forced out, her whole body straining with need as she waited breathlessly for his hand to slip inside her pants. With each button that popped, a tiny shudder shook her.
Her eyes fluttered closed and her head plopped limply back against his chest as his hand slid into her jeans and. palm to her skin, he pushed beneath her panties.
The moment his hand touched her bare skin her knees went out from under her.
As she stalled to go down, he snaked an arm tightly around her waist, holding her up.
"Good. I'd hate to think you were falling for me."
She didn't miss the amusement in his voice, nor the absurd reality that she'd indeed just quite physically fallen, from a mere touch. And he hadn't even grazed her clitor—
"Oooh!" A whoosh of air escaped her and she didn't even bother trying to stand anymore, just let him have her weight. Dimly, she could hear him panting against her ear, his breathing rough and labored, as if he'd been running for a very long time. Her climax was right there, she was on it, about to go over...
"Christ, Gabrielle, you make me— "
"Well, now, isn't this pretty," a deep voice mocked. "Looks like she's primed and ready for me. I can't wait to finish what you've started. Remember how we used to do that, Adam? How you and I used to share? Or is that yet another of those things you like to pretend never happened along with those few thousand years you pretend you never lived? Does she know what we can do to her? Have you told her how we used to play with mortals?"
Gabby jerked violently in Adam's arms, that oh-so-desperately-needed orgasm dying an instant death, though none of the attendant arousal did. Her throat worked convulsively as the sardonic voice penetrated her sensual stupor. She tried desperately to shake it off, to speak through it, to warn Adam that Darroc had found them again, but her treacherous vocal cords had locked up on her every bit as completely as they had back on Fountain Square. She was frozen from head to toe, rooted in place.
As she stood, unable to manage even the smallest squawk of warning, she was stunned and relieved to realize that somehow he knew.
Yanking his hand from her jeans, he turned her roughly in his arms and pulled her against him, snarling viciously. "Bloody hell."
Gabby's eyes fixed with horror on the tall copper-haired Fae standing just beyond Adam's shoulder. Head tilted back, she stated up at Darroc.