Falling Light (Game of Shadows #2)(68)

Now that she had awakened, she realized just how hollow and empty she felt. He set the plate on the bed, undressed and slid under the covers with her, and they ate in companionable silence. The sandwiches were Astra’s handiwork from earlier, made with homemade bread, individually wrapped and quite delicious.

She finished before Michael, and lay down to curl against his long, muscular legs, drifting until he set the empty plate on the bedside table. He switched off the light and slid down to lie beside her.

They turned to each other at the same time. She wound her arms around his neck while he rose over her and settled between her legs, and the weight of his long, powerful body covering hers was the very best thing that had happened to her all day.

He kissed her, hardened lips moving sensuously over hers while he explored the moist, private interior of her mouth. She relished the slight abrasion of his unshaven cheek and lost herself in sensual pleasure. He leaned his weight on one arm while he caressed her breast and plucked gently at her nipple, and his erection pressed against her inner thigh.

Then his body stiffened. He broke off the kiss, leaned his forehead against hers and swore under his breath.

Frowning, she stroked the back of his head. She loved him so much. She murmured, “What is it?”

“Our supply of condoms are in a police evidence room,” he growled. “Along with your purse and my backpack that we left behind in Petoskey after you were shot.”

The corners of her mouth drooped in disappointment. “Oh, no. And you don’t have any here.”

She didn’t say it as a question. He wouldn’t be so frustrated if he had any condoms here, and she already knew that he had never been with a woman in this life, before her. He had chosen instead to wait and look for her.

Still, he shook his head wordlessly. He began to roll off of her. “We can always make love in other ways.”

She gripped his shoulder. “Wait.”

He stopped, settled his weight again comfortably on her, stroked the hair off of her forehead and waited.

Just as she couldn’t risk a pregnancy in that lifetime long ago, she couldn’t risk one now.

She also had more resources available to her than she had when they had stopped to rest at the cabin near Wolf Lake. She sank her awareness into her body and realized almost immediately that they weren’t in any danger. Her monthly cycle wasn’t viable for conception.

“We’re safe,” she whispered. “We don’t need to worry for at least another week.”

He took a breath. “You’re sure.”

He didn’t ask that as a question either, but still, she smiled. “Quite sure.”

She slid her fingers through the short, dark hair at the back of his head, coaxing him down to her. He came readily, and his mouth slanted over hers in a kiss that blazed along her nerve endings.

He cradled her, mind, body and spirit. She could feel it. There was no part of him that held back. He was totally engaged, totally present and open. It set her alight. She arched upward against his long, muscled torso, rubbing her body against his and reveling in the sensation of being skin to skin, of feeling the fluidity of his powerful muscles flexing and shifting on her.

He broke off the kiss, muttering something that she didn’t catch, and trailed his lips along her skin as he slid down her body with delicious, agonizing slowness. He stopped to suckle at her br**sts, tugging strongly first on one nipple, then the other. She gasped and cradled his head in both hands while white-hot pleasure shot arrows down her limbs. It settled into an escalating need at the intimate juncture of her pelvis.

He put a hand between her legs and pressed at the exquisitely sensitive nubbin at her center. She tilted her pelvis up and pushed against him. The wetness of her arousal slicked his hard, clever fingers, and pleasure turned into a keen, bright spear that stabbed her so sweetly, a sharp, involuntary sound broke out of her.

He buried his face against her flat stomach. “Feeling nothing is worse than blindness,” he whispered against her skin. “When you’re blind, you can still experience a wealth of sensation. Feeling nothing is the worst kind of starvation you can imagine, only you don’t know it. You don’t know it until you start to feel something. That’s what happened to me when I started to remember what it was like to love you. I looked for you for so long. I needed you, and I knew that I was starving.”

“You know I love you, don’t you?” she whispered back to him. She stroked everything she could reach of him—his hair, the side of his lean cheek, his broad shoulders. “I just love you. I love you.”

“We don’t leave each other alone ever again,” he gritted. He gripped her hips in a bruising tight hold. “NOT EVER AGAIN.”

“Never,” she told him. “I swear it.”

Her body housed too much extreme emotion. She ached for his centuries of pain, and she was aroused and so damn happy. She couldn’t hold it all in, or hold still. She wiggled down the bed, running her hand down his lean torso until she found his thick, stiff penis. He sucked in a breath as she caressed him. She relished the velvet skin covering the hard length of his cock, stroking the tips of her fingers along the beautifully shaped tip until he jerked in reaction to her gentle caress.

He grabbed her wrist. “I can’t take too much teasing right now. I’m so f**king close to spewing all over you.”

“Not yet, you don’t,” she told him. She took him in a strong grip. “Come here.”