Sanctuary(110)

He flicked the front hook of the bra, watched her breasts spill free. Then lowering his head, devoured them.

she did moan, then the sounds she made were quick, wild whimpers. The ache was unbearable, unreasonable. she moved restlessly beneath him to soothe it and only deepened the throb.

she dragged at his shirt, yanking it over his head and tossing it violently aside so she could feel hot flesh. The storm crashed inside her, tossing her closer and closer to that high, sharp peak, then dragging her back, just inches back, before she could ride it.

His mouth, his hands streaked over her now, daring her to keep pace, making it impossible for her to do anything but stumble blindly. she writhed, tried to roll free. Anywhere there was air, was an anchor to hold her.

But he held her trapped, imprisoned in that terrifying picture. And gave her no choice but to endure the violent war of sensation battling sensation. He pulled her slacks over her hips, revealing the blue swatch of satin. His mouth was on her belly, riding low, his labored breathing thickening the air with hers.

she didn't hear herself begging, but he did.

He had only to slide a finger under that satin, had only to touch her to have her explode.

Her body convulsed under his, rocked by wave after molten wave of pleasure. He pressed his face to her belly as it quivered, as his own body shuddered in response.

Thank God, thank God, was all she could think when the tension flooded out of her. Her muscles went lax, and she took one grateful gulp of air. Only to expel it again on a muffled scream as those clever, unmerciful fingers drove her up again.

Did she think that was all? The blood throbbed painfully in his head, his heart, his loins as he tore away the thin barrier. Did she think he would let either of them settle for less than madness now? He yanked her hips high and used his tongue to destroy her.

And she did scream.

Her arms flew back, her fingers bouncing off the glossy painted iron posts of the headboard, then gripping desperately as if to keep her body from being swept away. Behind her closed lids lights pulsed violent red, beneath her skin her blood swam dangerously fast. she shattered again, a thousand pieces of her flying free.

Then his hands gripped hers over the bedposts. He plunged into her, filled her, took her ruthlessly to peak again with long, slow, deliberate strokes. Even as her vision wavered, she could see his eyes, the sharp intensity of them, the pure gray edging toward black.

Helpless, she matched his pace, her breath hitching and tearing when he quickened the tempo. Her hips pumping when he began to thrust inside her, hard and fast.

When his mouth came down on hers, she could do nothing but surrender to it. When her body spun finally and completely out of control, she could do nothing but let herself go.

And he could do nothing but let himself follow.

I she didn't know if she'd slept. she almost wondered if she'd simply slid into a coma. But it was full dark when she opened her eyes. That, Jo thought hazily, or she'd been struck blind.

He lay over her, his head resting between her breasts. she could feel the rapid beat of his heart, hear the quiet sigh of the wind fluttering through the window screens.

He felt her shift, just slightly. "I'll stop crushing you in just a second.

"It's all right. I can almost breathe."

His lips curved as he brushed them over the side of her breast, but he rolled over. Before she could move, he'd wrapped an arm around her and pulled her against him. "Flan, my ass."

she opened her mouth, certain that some pithy comment would come. But there was only laughter. "Maybe I've just been off desserts for a while."

"Then you'll just have to have seconds."

she snuggled up against him without thinking. "If we try for seconds, we'll kill each other."

"No, we won't. We'll get to those steaks first, and I'll get you a little drunk. Which was my original plan, by the way. Then we'll have seconds."

"You planned to get me drunk?"

"That was one of my ideas. Then there was the one about climbing up the trellis to your balcony. Sort of the swashbuckle scenario."

"You'd have broken your neck."

"Nah, Brian and I used to monkey up and down that thing all the time."

"Sure, when you were ten." she rose onto her elbow, shook her hair back. "You're about a hundred pounds heavier now, and I doubt you're as agile."

"This is no time to call my agility into question."

she smiled, lowered her brow to his. "You're absolutely right. Maybe you'll surprise me one night."

"Maybe I will. But now. . ." He gave her hair a tug before he sat up. "I'm going to cook you dinner."

"Nathan." she smoothed a hand over the wrinkled spread while he searched for his jeans. "Why are you going to so much trouble for me? "