The swamp played its own kind of music in the background. Thunder rumbled far out over the water. The clouds would come, but for that moment, it was all moonbeams and stardust—the perfect backdrop for a night of hot, steamy sex.
He fed on her with tongue and teeth, tasting, testing, letting the kiss and his senses spin out into the darkness.
His hands moved under her, and in a flash, she jumped up to wrap her legs around his hips.
Did she weigh less than she had three years before? If she did, it was his fault. Later, they’d eat. But for now, he’d feast on her incredible mouth, savor her silky body, and let the fever that threatened consume them both.
Her head fell back so he could explore as he chose. Unfortunately, making any choice right then was beyond him. His brain had gone into meltdown mode, and it was likely to remain there for quite some time.
Her body burned against his. His muscles were rock hard.
No one could strip away his defenses like Melia. A crazed bomber could march up behind him, and the best he’d be able to manage would be a kick to the guy’s crotch before he carried her upstairs, locked the door, and hopefully landed with her on the bed.
If they made it that far.
He used his lips on the side of her neck. The purr in her throat brought a growl to his. She hitched herself up higher and the growl became a hiss of pain.
She smiled with her eyes closed. “Just remember, Johnny, you started this.”
“Remember, too, I always finish what I start.” His hands slid around her rib cage as he climbed the stairs. It was a bit like levitating. Toward Nirvana, he hoped.
Her heart would go on, but she would never be complete without him. That’s what she’d said during their wedding ceremony. Two spirits, one soul. Transform, make whole…
There’d been more, and he’d memorized every word of the vows she’d made to him at that altar. Memorized it and refused to let any part of it go.
She had a sleek, slender body. Skin like silk covering toned muscle. Everything about her appeared soft and golden right then. He shouldered the door to her bedroom open, fused his mouth on hers. His mind was in so many pieces, he doubted it would ever come together properly again.
Wrapping his fingers around her waist, he found the edge of the bed and gently lowered her onto it.
The second she landed, she twined her arms around him and pulled him down with her.
It was like being drawn into a whirlpool, slow and easy at first. Then, as his heart began to thunder, the room and his brain—what remained of it—began to pitch and roll.
Blood flowed through him in a firestorm of need and desire. Everywhere she touched him sizzled. Her hands rode over his back and hips, tugging at his jeans even as her body bowed up to meet his. Center to center, craving to craving.
Speed and urgency became a factor. A priority. She moaned, and he swallowed the sound. He let his lips roam over her face.
She had beautiful bones. He traced them with his tongue as his deft hands stripped away her dress.
Straps first, then the zipper, a quick hiss of metal rising above the jungle roar in his head.
He locked his mouth back on hers and felt her push the shirt over his shoulders and off.
The room seemed to tilt, then swing outward in a crazy circle. He stroked her, a needful slide of hands that made their way to the fiery center of her.
She was hot and wet and ready for him. But as much as he wanted fast, he also wanted to revel. Three years was a very long time to live without the woman he loved. Without sex, without any physical intimacy at all. There needed to be an element of anticipation, of that moment on the edge before they both tumbled from the cliff.
She almost sent him over by bumping her lower body up into his.
“I know what you’re doing, Johnny.” Her voice was a velvety murmur, her head arched back, a faint, feline smile clinging to her lips. “But we’ve both waited a long, long time for this. Gentle isn’t the way to go, for either of us.”
So much for self-restraint. Drawing her arms up over her head, he cuffed her wrists. “Look at me, Mel.” When her eyes opened, he kissed her, a hot, lazy exploration. Then he shifted, raised himself up until he could see the exquisite outline of her. “You weren’t wearing a damn thing under that dress.” The realization almost shattered the last thin threads of his control. “Jesus. I’ll never look at you in clothes again without wondering what’s underneath them.”
“Usually lingerie.” Her eyes danced in the silvery splash of moonlight pouring through the window. “But not always.” Lifting her head, she nipped his earlobe and whispered, “Sometimes it’s just too damn hot, even for lace.”
A knot of lust twisted in his belly. He kissed her again, and there was nothing gentle about it. This time, he ravaged her mouth. His tongue found hers while his hands slid down her arms, over her breasts, and along her sides.
He wanted to linger everywhere, to torture himself with her nipples, to sample and suckle and use his mouth on her in every imaginable way. But the needs of his body and hers took precedence.
She rose up. Her own hands moved downward to clasp him and bring him inside her. She gasped as he slid in and bucked hard against him.
“Do it,” she whispered. “Now, Johnny. Do what you always do to me. Rock my body and everything around us.”
Her wish; his command.
It was electric, a jolt of lightning to his system, with wires sparking and every nerve he possessed alive and on fire.
The night burst open around him. She drew him in deeper, but it wasn’t enough. The pulsing rhythm was an echo of need in his brain. More, harder, faster. A flash of white light in the sparking, flickering darkness.
Their bodies collided. His breath rushed out until she erupted with pleasure, and his own system was spent.
He collapsed on top of her. She had her fingers clenched in his hair. He was crushing her, but he couldn’t dredge up the energy to move. Not even to roll sideways so she could breathe, and he could—Jesus—see if he was still alive.
Because this could be heaven, right here, right now. Heaven in her bed, with the faintest hint of something dark and evil circling them in the swamp.
Vibrations moved through him. An aftershock due to phenomenal sex? Or maybe he was having a heart attack.
“I need air, Johnny.” She said it on a laugh and pushed against his chest with her palms. “Can you move just a little?”
“No idea. Probably not.” But he dug deep into the well and succeeded in rolling sideways. “Fuck.”
He heard the smile in her voice when she spoke. “Right to the point, as always.”
“It was amazing, Mel. A frantic scramble, but incredible.”
“It always is. Sex isn’t the problem for us.”
“I know.” A Herculean effort got him up and onto his elbow so he could gaze down at her. “I’m sorry I did what I did to you. I just couldn’t think of any other way to keep you safe. Killing Satyr wasn’t an option, although I have to say it crossed my mind. But in the end, all it would have done was turn Mockerie’s fury on both of us. And if you think Satyr’s vengeful, you can multiply that by a hundred or more for Mockerie. Unfortunately, that all fell apart, so we’re right back to where we were three years ago.”
Her eyes sparkled, but thankfully not with anger. “What you did is what we in the medical profession refer to as putting a Band-Aid on a gunshot wound. You might pull the sides of the bullet hole together for a brief time, but it won’t fix the problem. Satyr was never going to go away. And I agree with you that killing him wouldn’t have made things any better. But in a sense, our being apart accomplished his goal without him even realizing it. No matter how it turns out, I truly believe squaring off with him is better.”
“Thanks for that piece of wisdom, Dr. Freud.” He wrapped a strand of her hair around his index finger and tugged on it. “Are we done with the psychoanalysis of my actions for now?”
“If you have something better to offer, absolutely.” She glanced at the window. “Was that thunder I just felt?”