A Love Untamed (Feral Warriors #7)(63)

He touched her hand, brushing his thumb across the back of it. “I’m fine, pet. No, not fine. I’m in pain of a different kind.”

But it worried her that he wasn’t healing properly. Something was obviously wrong with him. And that bothered her far more than she wanted it to.

Fox stood and shucked the rest of his clothes, and she watched, loving him, drinking in the sight of his beauty. He was glorious, his legs thick with muscle, his hips and waist narrow, his chest broad and beautifully sculpted. And his erection . . . as fine as any ever made.

Hunger burned in her belly. Affection and joy built in her chest, a pressure she wasn’t sure how to ease.

He pulled her into his arms, and she went happily, loving the feel of flesh to flesh, loving the slide of his hands down her bare back and the press of that protruding thickness against her belly. She drank in the sweetness of being held, of feeling utterly safe even when danger lurked just outside.

The brush of his whiskers and the soft press of his warm kiss to her temple melted her. Nose against his neck, she breathed his scent deep into her lungs, shivering with the raw pleasure it brought her, and pressed her own lips to that warm skin.

His hold on her tightened, his hands once more telegraphing the need that had raged before and that raged again. Lifting her head, she met his kiss in a fiery burst of pure desire, their mouths fusing, their tongues sliding and tangling. He tasted like a clean, fresh spring on a hot summer day, and she didn’t think she would ever get enough of him. Reaching up, she gripped his skull, the long, soft strands of his hair slipping sensuously through her fingers. His hands roamed her back, sliding down to cup her bu**ocks, to pull her tight against his thick erection.

“I have to be inside you,” he murmured against her mouth. “I can’t wait any longer.” He pulled her down with him, lying back with a small smile that wrapped around her heart and squeezed. “Ride me, angel,” he said softly.

And there was nothing she wanted more. Straddling him, she lowered herself slowly until the tip of his erection pressed between her legs, seeking entrance.

“Can I hold on to you this time?” he asked carefully. “Will you let me join you?”

“Yes. Please.”

He grinned, then gripped her hips and pushed inside her, slowly, carefully, filling her, claiming her.

Melisande arched back, drenched in pleasure. She rolled her hips, sliding him out, then in again in a sinuous move that had always driven her lovers to madness. At the sound of Fox’s groan, she smiled, peering down at him, meeting his passion-filled gaze. As she stepped up the pace, his grip slid to her bu**ocks, his fingers digging into her, driving her own passion higher.

“You’re good at this,” he gasped.

“Am I?” She laughed, all worries gone for this moment. Her senses swam, overwhelmed by the feel of flesh on flesh, of Fox’s wonderful, masculine scent, of his heat, and the sheer perfection of his powerful body. As her need built, emotion welled up inside of her—pleasure, joy. Love. How it had happened, she didn’t know, but she’d fallen in love with this man.

The passionate storm picked her up. Fox’s grip on her tightened. “Look at me, angel.” His blue eyes pulled her in, snaring her, holding her with the softest, sweetest touch as he pushed into her, harder and harder, driving her up, and up, and up.

She met him, thrust for thrust, telling him without words that he didn’t need to be careful. Not now. Not in this. Together, they mated, sex in its most primitive form, hard, desperate, loving. One. It was glorious, a melding of both flesh and spirit. Grinning at one another, gasping, they screamed their release, her cry to his shout as the storm broke over them.

As her heart began to settle, Fox slid his hands up her side, reaching for her. “Kiss me, Mel.”

And she did, lying atop him, stroking his damp face, pressing her lips to his. His hands stroked her back, caressed her head, as her hair fell over them both.

Finally, she tucked her head against his shoulder and knew peace.

“This place could have filled with Mage, and I wouldn’t have known it,” he murmured against her hair. “For once, the goddess was on our side.” He kissed her forehead with such tenderness that it brought tears to her eyes.

Lifting up, she pressed her hand to his cheek. “That was . . . the very best it’s ever been for me.”

Pleasure warmed his eyes along with wry amusement. “And you remember those lovers from long ago?”

She smiled. “I do. An Ilina never forgets.”

“I thought it was the elephant that never forgets.”

“Funny story . . .” She traced his bottom lip with her finger and he pulled her digit into his mouth. “In ancient Persia, the word for Ilina and elephant were nearly the same. Somehow it slipped from the Therian lexicon to the human.”

“So the original saying really was ‘an Ilina never forgets.’ ” He laughed, then gripped the back of her head and kissed her thoroughly once more.

But thought of the past had opened more doors, allowing memories to pour through. She pulled away, laying her cheek on Fox’s shoulder. He cupped her head, caressing her, comforting her, and they lay there for a long time.

“You’ve turned pensive,” he murmured. “Are you remembering?”

With a sigh, she nodded. “More than you can imagine.”