The Rogue (The Moorehouse Legacy #4)(38)

Using his hips, he moved deeper and deeper, following a back-and-forth motion to ease his way, stretching her gently. She was all tight satin around him, so smooth and perfect he ground his molars. And though he wanted nothing more than to let loose and turn into a raw animal, though the base of his skull was screaming for him to go wild and pump against her until both of them exploded, the primal instinct was easy to ignore.

Because she was precious.

When they were fully together, joined pelvis to pelvis, he gathered her up, scooping his arms under her and holding her tight. With other women he’d had sex with, he hadn’t particularly cared how close they got during the act. But as he eased off the choke hold on his body a little, so he could start the pace that would take Mad and him to heaven, he wanted her right in his face. He wanted to share the moment with her from head to toe. He wanted to look into her eyes.

And he did. The whole time.

It didn’t take long before the smooth motion of their bodies carried him so far away that he lost his mind. And she was with him on the journey, clutching at his lower back, holding him tight, digging her nails into him. He felt her release, heard her cry muffled in his shoulder, and then the pleasure was too much. He pulled out quickly and spilled himself between their bellies, shuddering and bucking.

When he found his breath again, he rolled on to his side and took her with him, easing one thigh between her legs and cradling her against his chest.

Eventually, she pulled back a little and looked at him. The smile on her face and the glow in her eyes made his heart pole-vault up into his throat.

Do not say something stupid, he thought.

Oh, man…he wanted to. He wanted to blurt out three little words he couldn’t possibly mean.

“You all right?” he asked.

“Yes.” She kissed his jawline. “You’re wonderful.”

“No, that was all you. Every bit of it. I’m…nothing special.” He shifted his hips back. Separating their bodies felt all wrong, but he got out of bed anyway. “Come with me. I want to wash you.”

He held out his hand and when she took his palm, he couldn’t resist drawing her against him for a moment. Then they went into the bathroom together, lazy, relaxed, all in the afterglow. As she turned the lights on and dimmed them, he started the shower and waited with his hand under the spray for the warmth to come.

It wasn’t until she brushed by him to step into the steam that he saw the blood on the inside of her thighs. He glanced down his body, saw more on himself, and felt like passing out.

“Spike, stop it. You know I’m fine.” She pulled at him. “Come on, get in with me.”

He kissed her then, with an intensity that came from the soul. And when he pulled back, his eyes were stinging a little so he hid them from her by getting under the water. God…the idea he’d made her bleed in that way shook him so badly he was nauseous.

He washed her carefully, and when she took the hand towel and insisted on returning the favor, all he could do was lean back against the tile and let her go where she pleased.

When they were back in bed, he snuggled in close to her, loving her body against his own.

There was a long silence. “Mad?”

“Yes?”

He cleared his throat, wanting to talk. Because if he didn’t let some of what he was thinking out, his head was going to unhinge like a fricking Pez dispenser.

Except when he opened his mouth, there was nothing…nothing he could really say at any rate. So he kissed her, feeling inadequate.

“Nothing. Just…I think you’re beautiful.”

When he would have pulled away, she snuck her hands around his neck and held him against her mouth. As her tongue licked into him, he felt his body thicken in a rush. He moved his lower body back, not wanting her to feel the least bit pressured. But then her hand found his arousal.

“So soon?” she said with a husky laugh.

“Um…yeah, but we don’t—” She stroked him and he sucked a breath in through his teeth.

“You’re going to let me touch you this time,” she said.

“Are you sure you’re ready to…”

She rolled him over and moved down his body. “I have an idea. Why don’t I be in control for a little while?”

Spike gasped at what she did next, his hands tangling in her hair, his hips surging. Closing his eyes, he gave himself to her with no boundaries at all.





Chapter Nine




Mad woke up in tangled sheets, her face buried in a pillow that smelled like Spike’s aftershave. As she stretched, her body sent back reminders that she’d done something different during the night. Three times.

She smiled and wished her lover were next to her, but Spike had insisted on leaving just as the dawn arrived. It was endearing that a man who looked so unconventional was all worried about someone finding out they’d spent the night together.

And what a night.

Boy, given her dating past, she never would have guessed that when she finally had sex it would be such a beautiful, moving experience. But it had been, with all the right things done and said and felt. Spike had made it special for her in each touch and whisper, every kiss and heartbeat. And it had been special for him, too. She’d seen it in his eyes.

Memories of them together came to her, warmed her, made her restless. He’d been so careful not to release when they were joined, always breaking the connection before his body reached its pinnacle. In the light of day, she was glad because it showed how scrupulous he was. Even though the precaution was unnecessary.