She slid a hand under his shirt and placed it over his heart. With erratic beats pounding against her fingertips, she said, “Once upon a time, there was this prince who felt things so deeply, he was scared to let anyone else know, so he pretended he didn’t feel anything at all. Then he met this princess who really got that. And she wishes he would get over it already and screw her brains out. The end.”
He went still. Really still, and she nearly died. Kris being still was bad, especially now, at the watershed moment.
Come on, do it.
“I can’t, VJ,” he whispered. “You don’t understand.”
Her pulse leaped as she gave him the final push. “No. You don’t understand. I want all of you. No holds barred. I can take whatever you’ve got. Really. Let go, Kristian.”
Hunger whipped through his expression. Without warning, he sat up, grinding against the naked flesh between her thighs as he captured her mouth possessively with his. Stars exploded in her head, at their joined lips.
She’d given him permission to let go. But she’d vastly underestimated what that meant.
It wasn’t a kiss, but a primal mating call that swept through her veins like lava, demanding not only her body, but her soul. Long before the next beat of her heart, she surrendered.
Kris dropped the tight reins VJ had yanked from his fist.
Just for now. Just this once.
His body howled, yearning to feel, snarling to charge ahead. The world ceased to exist.
He wrapped her hair, that seductive riot of curls, in his hand and tilted her head back to expose her neck, sucking and laving until she moaned, vibrating against his length. He throbbed in response.
“Yes,” she whispered and rolled her hips against him, hot and fluid. “More. I’m so ready for you. What are you waiting for?”
He set her on her feet and stripped, ripping fabric and then fingering a condom into place. Impatiently, he hustled her backward until her back hit the wall. He crowded against her scorching body, skin on skin, a thigh between her legs and her slick center calling to him. The scent, sharp and feminine, saturated his senses.
Now. It had to be now. He lifted her leg and flung it around his waist. With both hands on her bottom, he boosted her higher on the wall and pierced her in one swift stroke.
Yes, finally.
He sucked in a breath, fighting to keep the explosion at bay as he filled her to the hilt. She stretched to accept him perfectly.
In her ear, he murmured in Greek and suddenly had the strangest urge to switch to English. “This is my favorite position,” he said and withdrew so slowly, he thought he’d come apart. His voice was ragged. Raw. “You’re so open. So deep.”
English. Because he wanted her to understand him like no one else did.
As he pushed into her again, she stared him in the eye and said, “So are you.”
Yeah. He was. She’d split him open with her beautiful honesty, and it wasn’t terrible. There’d be a struggle to cram the lid back on, but that was later. Much later.
He slid out slowly to savor the feel of her. Too slow. He needed her, needed more, and she gave it instantly. More. And still more. She met him in the middle every time. So good. So amazing to just feel. To be lost in it. To give in to all the extremes, whatever they might be.
Harder and faster now, over and over, he pushed and she squirmed, as he wound them both higher with hard, insistent thrusts. She begged for more with that sexy moan. The wall kept her in place, steady, and the heat was intense, enveloping and surrounding him.
“I’m inside you,” he said with his teeth on her earlobe. Her fingernails bit into his back in an unearthly mix of pain and pleasure. “Come for me.”
With his name on her lips in a soul-shattering whisper, she did, clamping down on him so hard it triggered his own release. He poured himself out, eyes closed, muscles tensed, until he was so empty, he couldn’t feel his bones. She’d taken everything and more, even parts he’d intended to keep.
Sweat-slicked chests heaving against each other, he let her slide down the length of his body until she’d gained her balance, then disposed of the condom and drew her over to the bed.
Drained, he lay next to her, face-to-face. Wincing, he fingered the side of her neck. When had he done that? “There’s a bruise. I’m sorry. I didn’t—”
“I’m not,” she said. “Shut up and save your breath for round two, please. There are at least another hundred pages of the Kama Sutra left.”
He laughed and enfolded her hand with his. All the shadowy guilt drained away. She was something else, with an inner strength he’d almost missed amid all her talk of romantic fantasies. “You’re really amazing, you know that?”