A Kiss of Fire (A Kiss of Magic #2)(45)

Tears burned into her eyes as her mouth opened beneath his, as his tongue swept in and took control. Deep, deep control. He kissed her until she was blinded by her own need, victim to her own lust. Her whole body ached, her mind blank of anything save the sweeping heat of him in her mouth and against her body. Where had all her resistance gone? How had it fled her and abandoned her so quickly? What was it this man could do to her?

She realized she was about to find out when he broke from her mouth, panting hard for breath and pressed his forehead to hers. He met her eyes, his black pupils wide…so wide their usual oval shape was nearly indistinguishable. His hands ran down her back until she felt a tug at her waist. He freed the long scarf belting her shirt to her waist, making her shirt fall loosely against her body as he let the scarf drop to the floor. Then, with his eyes riveted to hers the entire time, he slipped a hand beneath the hem of her blouse and stroked the bare skin of her back and spine. His fingers were so hot…burning tracing paths across her skin. It was a wonder her clothing didn’t go up in flames. It may yet.

“God, you’re so soft,” he said in a guttural tone. “So perfectly smooth and so hot.”

She was hot? No, it was him and he didn’t even realize it.

“Please…” she begged him, not understanding what it was she was begging him for. To stop? To continue? It could have been either one.

He continued.

He kissed her again…and again…each kiss more blinding than the last, her body becoming more compliant and soft each time their mouths met and tangled together. All the while his hand stroked the bare skin of her back, over her side, up across her shoulders. Up and down her spine.

He broke from her mouth again, but only long enough to grip the hem of her blouse and then strip it off of her in one swift movement. He let the silk go and it floated to the floor, forgotten. Naked from the waist up, she flushed deeply pink as he leaned back a little and devoured the sight of her with hungry eyes. She felt him tremble against her and her eyes widened. It was a hint at what he was doing to keep himself in check, that, as much as it seemed otherwise to her, he had not lost control of himself…but was hanging onto it by the merest of threads.

A blast of heat radiated out of him as he looked at her and it warmed her considerably. Not that she needed any warming. She was literally burning up as it was. It was a wonder she could keep her clothes from catching fire. It took control to burn without letting your clothing burn up in the process, to make it as impervious as you yourself were…but she had nothing even remotely resembling control just then.

“I want to make love to you,” he said hotly, the words shuddering out of him as his eyes continued to consume her. His hands gripped at her back, lifting her up on her toes until his lips were brushing over her collarbone. His tongue darted out and flickered against her skin and she moaned, her head dropping back. He took the reaction as invitation—and it was an invitation—and his mouth began to travel over her skin in earnest. Everywhere his tongue touched her singed to a painful point of pleasure.

His mouth traveled down to her breast, his lips and tongue skiing down the slope of it. But just when he reached her nipple, he lifted his head away from her, making her groan in frustration. She wanted his mouth on her in that way. She wanted his hands all over her.

He suddenly swept her up into his arms, scooping her feet off the floor. He carried her across the room and to the bed. He knelt on the mattress and laid her down in the center of it. Then he pulled back, leaving her bereft and bare and exposed. His hands went to her feet and then she realized he was removing her fur boots. He gently massaged each foot as it was exposed, dropping the boots onto the floor somewhere. Then he rand his hands up her bare legs beneath her skirt. Her belly tightened as his fingertips brushed up her thighs. Then they disappeared and she felt his fingers working free the ties to her skirt that were keeping it on her body. Once he had them loosened, he stripped the skirt down her legs and tossed it away into the room behind himself.

Then he stopped, standing on his knees on the bed and simply stared down at her. She was naked, bare of everything but the blush that crept over her. He looked his fill, doing nothing but look at her for several moments until she self-consciously tried to curl away from his regard. He stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.

“You’re more beautiful than I even imagined,” he said hoarsely. “And believe me when I say I imagined you very, very often. But my mind did you little justice.”

He reached out then with a single finger and caressed the mole he found on her ribs just beneath her left breast.

“I told myself I would wait for you to come to me,” he rasped.

He leaned forward, dipped his head down, and drew a slow tongue across her nipple. He then sucked the tip into the cavern of his mouth, toying with it until it was a hard point between his lips. Ariana felt the sensations right to her very core. Her hands came out and buried themselves into his hair, holding him to her. His hand came to cup her, to lift her into his mouth. The draw of his mouth grew tighter…harder.

Then he suddenly lifted his head away, his breath coming hard.

“Do you want me?” he demanded of her.

“Yes,” she whispered.

“No…do you want me. Do you, Ariana Colla, triumvir of Saren, want me, Raja Sin, ruler of Kilt?”

She hesitated as he made her aware of who they were. Of the ramifications of her answer. Her fingers were gripping desperately in his hair. Why did he have to talk? Why did he have to make demands of her? Why couldn’t he just quench this interminable burning inside of her?