Spellbinder (Moonshadow #2)

“Just try to stop me.” He pressed his lips against her temple and whispered, “It’s okay to relax for now. Go to sleep.”

Despite knowing everything she knew about the continuing precariousness of their situation, in that moment, what stole over her was an almost indescribable sense of comfort and safety. She knew better, but she let herself believe in it anyway.

When sleep came again, it was not gentle. Instead, it hit hard and fast. She plummeted into a black pool. Then something happened. He shifted, or she did, and the oddity of sleeping with another person brought her back up.

Before she had fully surfaced, she knew she was sleeping with him, and this time hunger drove her all the way to wakefulness. It was not quite dawn outside, but the sky had lightened from full darkness. The fire had long since died down, and the room was cool with the fresh seaside breeze.

She didn’t want to wake him. He needed the rest as much as she did, but something roused him too. Maybe it was the change in her breathing or the tension in her muscles.

Angling his head, he looked down at her, saw her eyes were open, and with a soft growl, he rose and settled her fully onto her back. As he did so, she reached for him, and his head plummeted down to her. His hard, searching lips took hers, and he kissed her with the same kind of ravenous need that pulsed in her body.

She arched up to him, kissing him with all her strength while she threaded her fingers through his hair. He pushed one knee between her legs, the hard length of his cock lying against her hip.

Readily, she opened for him, and he settled himself at the bowl of her pelvis, kissing her as he cupped her breast. Running his callused thumb back and forth over the tip, he teased at her nipple until it felt unbearably sensitized.

This desire she felt for him thrummed through her body like the pulsing heartbeat of a beast. It made her feel unhinged. She needed him inside her more than she needed the pleasure of foreplay.

Grasping his erection, she urged him to her, muttering against his mouth, “I can’t wait. I don’t want to wait.”

“You’re not ready.” His voice had gone guttural, and he was breathing hard, as if he had been running for a long time.

“I don’t care.” She ran her fingers down his length greedily.

He hesitated only for a moment. She could feel it when he gave in. A sharpening of intent changed his body. Gently, he stroked the fluted petals of her private flesh, then delved into her, drawing out evidence of her arousal, heightening her need, until she pushed his hand away and brought the broad, thick head of his cock to her entrance.

“Come inside me now,” she whispered.

He pushed in. She was already aching and swollen from their lovemaking the night before, and as he entered her, he felt bigger than ever. He tilted his head back, teeth gritted. She thought his taut expression was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. It sharpened the bold lines of his face, which were darkened with a sensual flush.

Touching his mouth with the fingers of both hands, she whispered, “I’m so glad I’m not alone with this feeling.”

His brilliant hazel gaze focused on her. “You’re not alone,” he said against her fingers as he pushed farther in. “You’ve set me on fire.”

“I’m obsessed,” she whispered back. “My skin hurts when it’s not touching yours.”

Rocking, he thrust farther until he was in to the root. Only then did something like relief pass over his expression. Kissing along the side of her neck, he began to move inside.

“I can’t get enough of you,” he said against her neck. “When I walk away from you, I feel like I’ve cut myself off from breathing.”

Yes. Yes, it was like that.

Everything else in the world fell away as he moved over her, and eagerly, she reached up to meet his thrusts, impaling herself on him over and over again. The heat began to rise, along with the pleasure. As he fucked her, he braced up on one elbow, watching her so intently, it felt as if she was the only thing in the world that mattered.

His gaze tracked every shift in her expression, the catch of her breath, the way her mouth trembled. She had never felt so exposed nor so protected at once. Gradually he picked up the rhythm, and she tightened her hold on him, holding him with her arms while she cradled him with her legs, and the pressure built and built to such a spike she couldn’t bear it a moment longer.

Then he reached between them to stroke her, and the pressure shattered into fiery pieces. She cried out hoarsely, muffling the noise against the back of her hand. As he watched her climax, he lost control. Thrusting hard in quick, savage movements, he peaked. She felt his cock pulsing inside her.

Tears slipped out the corners of her eyes and soaked into the hair at her temples. Touching one, he kissed her forehead, and she was truly at a loss for how something so carnal could be so emotionally profound at the same time.

She had once thought sex was a game, something to be role-played and compartmentalized from the rest of her life. She’d had no idea. No idea. Now she knew she had never made love before in her life.

She had played at passions, like trying on different outfits, but she had only ever known one true passion, the one for her music.

Until now.

This passion she felt for him was like a crucible, forging her into something new.

This love she felt for him…

There was no surviving some loves. No matter what happened to the love affair, whether it flourished or failed, those loves struck mortal blows one carried for the rest of one’s life.

This love she felt for him.

This love was like that.

*

Once he had reached Sidonie’s room and was able to hold her in his arms, Morgan had finally been able to relax. He couldn’t remember the last time he had slept so deeply or awakened with such urgency.

After making love, he was still inside her when he fell asleep again, while her arms were still twined around his neck. When he stirred next, it was well past dawn. As he shifted position, his cock slipped out.

Rousing briefly, Sidonie murmured in disappointment. As she curled on her side, he spooned her from behind and pulled her back against his chest. Time was running out, he knew, and there were things that needed to be done, but they were both exhausted. The delicate skin underneath Sidonie’s eyes looked bruised with dark purple shadows.

Everything else would have to wait a few more hours. Burying his nose against the back of her neck, he slept again.

A knock on the door woke them next. Rolling over, he grabbed the sword he had brought with him. Sidonie rolled over with him and took hold of his arm.

She met his gaze and shook her head while she raised her voice to ask, “What is it?”

“I’ve got your breakfast tray, mum.” It was a boy’s cheerful voice. Morgan’s grip on the sword hilt relaxed. “It’s nice and hot.”

Sidonie cuddled against his back and nuzzled his shoulder, calling out, “Thank you! Just leave it on the floor, and I’ll get it.”