"Hey," I murmured, and his chin slowly dipped toward the sleek, slick pane of his chest until his half-open eyes met mine. The wolf had receded, though it lurked, waiting to pounce.
I rolled my tongue lazily around his tip and his cool gray gaze flared. Then I took him into my mouth, as far as he would go, and I sucked.
His back arched as he pumped and withdrew, but still he didn't touch me.
I wore all my clothes; he wore none. I licked him one last, long time, then drew my tank top over my head, flicked the front snap on my bra, was reaching for the button on my jeans, when he hauled me to my feet by my elbows.
'That's enough," he said.
I leaned forward, brushing my breasts across his chest. With Sawyer nothing was ever enough.
"There's no reason for this, Phoenix."
"There has to be a reason?"
He appeared confused. "Yes."
Poor man.
"Fine," I said. "How about this?" I took his clenched hand, pulled on his fingers until he released the fist, then I placed his palm against my chest, where my heart thrummed fast and sure.
"I don't understand."
"The reason is desire. My body and yours together because we have a connection."
"We do?"
He might be ancient, yet he was a child in so many ways. Had he ever been touched in love? Had he ever had sex simply because he wanted to?
He thought I hated him, and I couldn't claim differently because sometimes, hell, most times, I did. But there was a connection between us. Had been even before I'd become like him.
"I'll show you," I murmured.
I began with kisses, soft and sweet, lips only, just a wisp as our breath blended together. He sighed, relaxed, closed his eyes when I trailed my fingertips across his lids. Leaning against the sink at my urging, he let me touch him and kiss him everywhere.
His skin was slick with steam; so was mine. He tasted of the sea. My fingers raced along his ribs, given speed by the moisture that beaded like dew.
His hands clenched in my hair. I didn't have much. Not like him. He held me closer, traced his thumbs across my brow, my cheeks, as if memorizing the bones beneath.
I leaned in to press my mouth to his neck, to inhale that fire-and-wind scent of him, and he wrapped his arms around me in the first hug from him I'd ever known. Together, we stilled. I wasn't sure, but I thought his lips brushed the crown of my head. For just an instant, my eyes burned, and my chest felt as if it would burst. This just might be the dumbest thing I'd ever done.
I didn't have time to dwell on it. Sawyer's patience was gone. Or perhaps he'd felt something, too, and it scared him as much as it had scared me. At any rate, he tugged at my zipper and I took the hint, losing the jeans, underwear, shoes, and socks.
The water had gone cold at last. I reached in and shut it off. Sawyer watched me, arms braced against the sink, biceps bulging, erection jutting forward. I started for the door; quick as a snake, he reached out and drew me back.
"What—" I began.
"No time for that," he said, swinging me around, lifting me onto the countertop, and stepping between my legs in one smooth movement.
All thoughts left my head as he filled me completely. My legs hung awkwardly, so he put his hands beneath my knees and hitched them up and over his hips. The change in angle made him slide ever deeper.
I opened my eyes, just as he slapped his hand to the switch and the room went dark, the only light a slim band creeping beneath the door.
The steam that had moistened our skin now chilled, but I didn't feel cold. I didn't feel anything but Sawyer inside of me. Harder and faster he pumped. I cradled his head as he took a nipple in his mouth, his hair spilling over my wrists, the ends tickling my belly.
Each press of his lips and tongue brought an answering tug between my legs. He suckled as if he'd draw something from me—my heart, my soul, sustenance. Then he used his teeth, biting down just short of pain, before kissing his way to my face, brushing his lips across my eyelids, my mouth. His palm cupped my cheek; his breath stirred my hair, and I stilled, something flitting through my mind like a prophecy.
But his thumb stroked the seam of my lips, the pressure insistent, as he continued to flex his hips, filling me, emptying me, filling me again. I forgot thoughts and feelings and prophecies of doom or glory as I caught his thumb between my teeth. I suckled him as he'd suckled me, bit him just a little, then let him go. He reached between us with that thumb, using the moisture from my own mouth to rub my throbbing center until I came.
As I did, he grasped my hips, buried his face in my neck, and did the same. Smoothing my palm down his damp back, I pressed my cheek to the top of his head.
We stayed that way, I'm not sure how long, until he kissed me. Just once on the lips, in the dark, and then he turned away. "I'll order food," he said.