“Yes.” Pride rang through his voice. “It’s mine.”
She shivered in the wind, but he felt nothing but the burning heat of her skin against his. The surge of possession rose through him like a tsunami and crashed. He practically shook with need for her again. To claim, push, torment, pleasure. Half dazed with want, he turned toward her and lowered his mouth to hers.
Damn the man.
How could she enjoy the view or think about anything except how good he looked naked? His body was spectacular, from the dusting of golden hair, toasty skin, lithe muscles, and the hard, taut muscles of his ass flexing as he walked. He wore his nakedness like his clothes, confident, comfortable, and a screw-you attitude if you didn’t like it.
There wasn’t a woman in the world who wouldn’t like it.
Need overcame her. She shuddered with raw emotion, feeling as if she wanted to climb inside him and experience everything he had to give. When he kissed her, she surrendered. Sliding her arms up around his shoulders, he pulled her in for more, gently sipping from her lips and then pushing his tongue inside to deepen the kiss. Riley floated, anchored to Earth by only him, and wondered if this night would ruin her forever.
He broke away, breathing hard. His eyes flashed with hunger. “I need you again.”
Riley didn’t answer. Just held on tight when he scooped her up and strode up the stairs and into his bedroom. She caught the barest glimpse of a huge sleigh bed, dark wood, thick carpet, and another fireplace before he stripped the tablecloth off her and pulled her in tight. They were gloriously naked, breast to chest, hip to thigh, mouth to mouth.
They feasted on each other, hands exploring, tongues tangling, until his very breath and taste and scent was imprinted not only on her body but on her soul. When she sank to her knees in front of him, taking him fully in her mouth, he groaned with an animal wildness that spoke to that hidden place in her. Crazed with the need to make him lose all control, she cupped him, stroking his steely length, running her teeth gently down the front of his cock. Dylan chanted her name, hands fisted in her hair, and when he finally released, she took all of him, milking out his orgasm until he shuddered under her, completely surrendering.
Riley waited for a normal recovery time, but he pushed her to all fours on the bed, fit himself with a condom, and began gently rocking his partial erection against her wet core. Riley groaned, pushing back, but he was back under control. Teasing her with his cock, he played with her breasts, pinching her nipples until they were hard and swollen. Sinking in a few inches deeper, he moved his hands lower, stroking her belly, clit, labia, giving her a little bit more of him at a slow, steady pace.
The relentless pressure of her oncoming orgasm made her his slave. She begged, rocked her hips, desperate for him to claim her completely, and as if he realized what she needed, he grasped her hips hard and slammed into her.
Riley cried out at the exquisite fullness. Keeping a brutal, fast pace, he took her with a savagery that engulfed her, as if desperate to mark her again as his, and she reveled in the knowledge that their lovemaking wasn’t close to being pretty, or elegant, or surface, but a give and take of basic, primal needs and wants that ripped away all civility.
Her skin bruised under his grip; her fingers ached as they twisted into the mattress; her muscles screamed with use. None of it mattered in the drive for release, and when his fingers finally slipped over her clit to pinch hard and release, she went over the edge.
A sob caught in her throat as everything inside of her emptied out and shattered. He was there to hold her when she collapsed, murmuring tender, nonsensical words in her ear as she came down from the wicked heights of pleasure, and for that one instant she knew she was safe.
Time had no meaning. Was it seconds? Hours? Finally, he rolled over, kissing her temple, pushing back her hair, and whispered in her ear.
“Are you ready?”
She groaned. No way. Riley couldn’t have another orgasm—she’d die. She shook her head. “No.”
“I’m taking you anyway.”
“I need a nap. A rest.” She pushed weakly against his chest.
“Such a dirty mind. I’m taking you somewhere else.”
“Where?”
His grin was wolfish and wicked and sexy as hell.
“Skating.”
chapter 7
He loved the way she blinked with a heavy languor and stretched out, her glorious body free from covers and open to his gaze. She practically purred with satisfaction, and the fact he gave it to her made him feel like Rocky fucking Balboa.
“I don’t understand.”
His lips twitched. “I’m taking you ice-skating. Come on, I have another set of snow pants and ski jacket.”
Those swollen lips pursed in a pout. “Outside? There’s a blizzard in case you’ve forgotten.” The ping of ice pellets against the windows tinkled in the air. Dylan pressed a kiss to her forehead and got up.