Moonshadow (Moonshadow #1)

She drank it all down, while dimly she realized he was striding through the cottage, carrying her to the bedroom. They couldn’t get there fast enough for her. He held her weight effortlessly enough; she trusted in his grip and loosened her hold around his neck long enough to drag her shirt over her head.

She let it fall to the floor as he climbed onto the bed and laid her on her back, and together they removed his shirt too. The sight of him, his scent, his expression, each piece of sensory input was like a spike driving into her, splintering preconceived notions, barriers, expectations, stripping her bare emotionally as physically he removed all her clothing.

She was not just nude; she felt exposed in a way that baffled her. She was no stranger to good sex, but this felt…

This felt raw, powerful, and unique.

There was no time to analyze why. As soon as he had helped her remove her clothes, he pulled back up to strip off his pants. He took all his clothes off and stood naked at the side of the bed.

He was naked.

For the first time, she saw the seamless beauty of his body without obstruction, the feline grace of his bone structure flowing from long, muscular legs up slim hips to the widening flare of his chest and shoulders. He was a dusky gold all over, with a sprinkle of dark hair across his chest that arrowed down the long muscles of his abdomen to a large, erect cock jutting over the tight, round sac underneath.

Staring at him, she forgot how exposed she felt, how odd and raw and powerful this moment felt, and lost herself in wonder. Looking up at his hard, beautiful face, the face that couldn’t help but be ferocious because ferocity was an inherent part of his nature, with those dark, glittering eyes focused solely on her, she knew somehow that she stood poised on the threshold of a new reality.

He began to crawl onto the bed, and he had no clothes on to mask the flawless, inhuman fluidity with which he moved. She could stare at him for years and never get tired of it.

Pausing, he met her gaze. “Everything okay?”

Hell no, nothing was okay. He was taking her apart and remaking her, and he hadn’t even touched her again yet.

But he waited for her reply, and she wasn’t about to deny herself a moment of this singular experience, no matter what it did to her or who she became when she reached the other side of it.

Opening her arms to him, she said, “Everything is perfect.”

*

Nikolas was hard put to describe to himself or understand exactly why Sophie affected him so powerfully.

All he truly knew was that she did. Her insane courage, the way she thought, the way she laughed, the way her incredible eyes sparkled with so much lively humor or outrage, and how either emotion could change in an instant.

Her clever use of her magic and her fierce defense of her own boundaries—stitched together, all those characteristics created a person of such wholeness and appeal that in the course of a single day, she had moved effortlessly to take center stage in his thoughts.

He loved her curves. Loved them. They were so alien to his own body, so compelling. He touched her lips, the tips of her breasts, and ran his fingers lightly over the swell of her hips and felt her shiver underneath his touch.

Aside from the three ragged scars at shoulder, abdomen, and thigh, her creamy skin was flawless. She might disagree, but he thought those scars were beautiful. Each one was a badge honoring her courage and strength.

She had said she had lost muscle tone, but he didn’t see it. Her body was sleek and toned. Only the concave hollows at her stomach, under her collarbones and cheekbones gave any hint at the weight she had lost. Her breasts were generously rounded, the plump dusky nipples erect and inviting.

Her eyes gathered all the light in the room. For a moment he had the oddest feeling that they gathered all the light inside him too, however much had managed to survive these past several years, and they magnified all of it to shine as brilliant as stars in the bedroom’s muted lighting. He had always loved starlight’s cool, distant magic.

He needed to touch and taste her everywhere, badly enough that his hands shook with a fine tremor as he pulled her into his arms. The sensation of her body against his, bare skin to bare skin, reverberated through both of them, creating a vibration that was neither one nor the other but a combination of both.

There was nothing else in the entire universe, nothing but the two of them together. Her curves, his angles. Her light, his darkness. Her softness, his exquisitely aching hardness.

Male. Female.

Her head fell back against his arm as she stared at him, and her plump, delectable lips parted.

It was all the invitation he needed. He gave into the internal fire that burned so hot for her, and it consumed him.





Chapter Twelve





Yanking her body against him, he ravaged her mouth, succumbing to blind instinct as he plunged his tongue into her as deeply as he could. Her groan trembled against his lips. Unsure if she welcomed his onslaught, he paused, and in response, she gripped his shoulders and kissed him back with wild abandon.

Her transparent eagerness burned away the last of his restraint. Easing her back onto the bed, bringing the weight of his body over hers to pin her down, he ran a hand down her torso while he feasted on her mouth.

The soft, pliant responsiveness of her lips, the plump generosity of her breasts, the way her legs moved restlessly against his, every detail of the sensory input fed his hunger until he felt like his skin was nothing more than the thinnest of covers for the light and heat that roared inside him.

Ravenously he nipped and suckled at her skin as he moved down her body, her enticing lower lip, the delicate spot at the juncture of her neck and shoulder, the gorgeous round flesh of her breasts, oh gods, her breasts. He lost himself in teasing her nipples, biting gently at the turgid peaks until she cried out in incoherent pleasure, working her fingers restlessly against his scalp as she held his head to her.

He sucked harder, and she bucked underneath him, pushing off the bed as she arched into his touch. She was so perfectly, exquisitely responsive, the heavy spike of need that dangled between his legs grew even tighter, harder.

“I want to do everything to you, all at once,” he muttered. “I want to stroke you, fuck you, hold you down, lift you up, pin you, take you. I want you to take me. Lord and Lady, Sophie, I don’t know that I have any gentleness in me tonight.”

“You talk awfully sexy in bed.” She twisted to whisper unsteadily in his ear just before she bit his lobe hard enough to send a jolt of sensation all the way down to his cock. “But if you’re wanting to actually communicate something to me, you’re going to have to do it in English.”

Lifting his head, he stared down at her. He hadn’t even realized he had slipped into his native tongue. Running his hand down the slope of her stomach, he stroked along the gentle curve of her pelvis, fingering the black tuft of silken hair at the juncture between her legs.