Kissed by a Dark Prince(58)

Olivia leaned back, bringing him with her, and he covered her body with his, bracing himself on his elbows above her. He kissed her harder, taking the lead again, and she writhed beneath him, rocking her body into his. He groaned and rubbed his hard length against her thigh, losing himself in thoughts of being inside her, their bodies intimately entwined, sharing a moment of bliss.

He needed that.

She moaned and he kissed along her jaw, curled the tip of his tongue around her earlobe, and then moved to her neck. He picked up her split-second tense and didn’t linger at her throat, not wanting to frighten her with the thought he might bite her after everything she had told him.

He wouldn’t even if she asked, because he was too far gone to control himself and if he sank his fangs into her throat and tasted her blood again, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from trying to complete their bond.

His ki’ara.

She felt good beneath him. Right. He loved the way she moved, the desperate undulations of her body that spoke to his, calling him to press against her, to give her what she needed. The feel of them skin-to-skin at last.

Loren moved back and grasped the hem of her t-shirt. Pain shot up his left arm from his broken fingers, a reminder of their condition. Olivia gasped and he gritted his teeth, cursing the weakness. He wanted nothing to interfere in this moment. Not her injuries or his.

Olivia’s hand curling around his and bringing it away from her clothing and up to her lips swept away his anger. He stared at her, fascinated as she pressed light kisses over the bandage and his two broken fingers, as if her kiss alone could heal his pain. There was a beautifully solemn yet tender look in her eyes as she inspected them, kissing them from time to time, and the pain did begin to fade. His female’s touch was magic, more powerful than any he commanded.

He had brought light to his people, but she had brought light to his dark world. She had given him something incredible, the wondrous bond between them that made him feel whole and gave him the strength to do what was right. He would never let her go. He would find a way to make her see that they belonged together. They were fated, destined to love each other, each born for the purpose of completing the other.

He wanted to say all this to Olivia but if he spoke these things aloud, they would scare her and she would run from him again. She wasn’t ready to hear that he had fallen for her, heart and soul, and would wither and die without her now.

“You look too serious,” she whispered and he shook his head, caught her hand with his good fingers, and lured her up to him.

Loren kissed her, a gentler exploration of her lips, building up the heat between them again and trying to deny his softer emotions, fearing they would colour his actions and she would sense them and bolt. He was wise to her now. She needed this to be about lust and satisfaction of carnal desires—aggressive, fierce and passionate. She needed to hide her softer feelings and deny her heart because she feared the outcome.

He was in no position to make love to her anyway.

Over four thousand years without sex meant that this first time would be about satisfying his dark need for her, to claim her body and soul, and ruin her to all other males.

He grasped the hem of her t-shirt and pulled it off over her head, breaking the kiss for only as long as it took the garment to pass between their lips. He kissed her harder, pouring out his desire and his need, letting her feel what she did to him. She made him crazy and wild, made him feel lost in his passion and ruled by his desire.

Loren dropped the t-shirt on the bed and went to palm her breasts. Material greeted his hands, soft and satiny beneath his fingers. He drew back and frowned at the garment she wore. Elf females wore corsets over their dresses. Human females appeared to wear a smaller version of that supportive garment beneath their clothing.

“What is this?” he said, eyeing the garment.

Olivia smiled and reached around behind her. “I’m not waiting while you fumble with your first bra.”

Fumble? He had intended to cut the unholy thing off her not fool around with whatever held it in place on her body.

She tossed the bra aside and he groaned, his gaze drawn to the dark dusky buds of her nipples and the creamy swells of her breasts. Touch. He went to do just that and grimaced as his broken fingers protested. He cursed them in his tongue and Olivia’s smile widened.

She reached for the belt of her jeans and he growled. He wanted to undress her. She shot him a frown.

“Your fingers are broken. You’ll hurt yourself trying to remove them and I want you naked against me.”

Naked against her.

Loren growled low in his throat.

He might have broken fingers, but there were other methods of undressing her at his disposal.