Midnight Angel (Stokehurst #1)(51)

Luke tugged her na**d h*ps against him, his fingers spreading over the velvety white curve of her bottom. Tasia gasped and reached her arms around his neck, her skin warming instantly at his touch. Her failing soul came to life as he covered her face with warm kisses. Groping over his shoulders, she found the edge of his robe, and pushed beneath to find the hard slope of his back. He responded to her touch with a groan of anguished passion and pulled her shift down until it dropped in a tangled ring on the floor.

He removed his robe, taking Tasia down to the narrow bed with him. His dark head lowered over her body. She felt his mouth on her breast, in tender bites, teasing licks, and when she began to gasp from the torment, he fastened his lips over her nipple and rubbed softly with his tongue.

Tasia felt a quiver of something like pain starting low in her stomach and shooting to the secret place between her thighs. He kissed her other breast, cupping underneath it with hot, gentle fingers, and she lifted herself against him in panting confusion. The ache inside her was maddening. She wanted to feel the entire length of his body on hers, wanted him to crush her with his weight. Wrapping her arms around his long muscled back, she tried to pull him closer. He resisted, staring down at her intently, his hand drifting over her stomach toward the froth of curls no one had ever touched before.

He reached down to a place that was swollen and acutely tender, and she gave a muffled cry as he touched her. His fingertips slid through a patch of slickness, exploring, delicately shaping, working into the soft entrance to her body. He kissed her lips, whispering her name, pressing love words into her damp skin. Tasia relaxed into a state of euphoric pleasure, accepting everything, too absorbed in sensation to mind the intimacy.

She felt him pushing her legs apart, making a cradle of her open thighs. His weight lowered, heralding a heavy pressure at her most vulnerable part. His eyes were staring into hers, and she felt herself drowning in the pools of dark blue. More pressure, burning…a contained force that tore and impaled her. She moaned sharply at the sudden pain. He pushed deeper, taking full possession of her. Then he was still, except for the rough motion of his breathing.

Shaken, Tasia lifted her slim hands to his face, trying wordlessly to communicate her awe at the dark beauty of his body joined to hers. He turned his mouth to her palm, catching her fragile skin with a biting kiss. His h*ps nudged deeply against hers, and she rolled upward in instinctive response. His slow rhythm filled her. All discomfort was forgotten as he began an exquisite destruction of her senses, until she twisted in mindless excitement beneath him. Their bodies tangled and merged, evoking a deep pleasure that crossed not only physical but spiritual boundaries. Tasia was lost in a bright rush of sensation, her lips parting with a soundless cry.

Soon afterward Luke gained his own release. There was a tremor in his arms as he held her tightly, astonished and replete in every part of his being. He watched over her as she slept. The candle stub burned out, leaving nothing but a trace of smoke in the air and a congealing pool of wax in the dish. His eyes adjusted to the darkness, enough to make out the edge of her profile and the dainty tip of one breast. She was soft and light against him, sleeping in the crook of his arm with utter trust. The ebony trails of her hair streamed over everything: their bodies, the pillow, the mattress. Carefully he gathered the silken locks into a dark river over her shoulder.

The touch of his hand disturbed her dreams, and she yawned and straightened her limbs in a trembling stretch, reminding him of a kitten with flattened ears. A few sleepy blinks, and she was awake, staring at him in wonder.

Luke smiled, holding her still as she made a sudden move to roll away. “You're safe,” he murmured.

Her body tensed, and he heard the sound of her hard swallow. Finally she broke the silence. “Shouldn't you worry about your own safety? I might hurt you.”

He kissed her forehead. “The only way you could do that is to leave.”

Tasia turned her face away. “My life has been filled with such ugliness…I don't want it to touch you, or Emma. And it would, if I remained here. There would be danger, and unhappiness…” She quivered with a frustrated laugh. “My God, you found out tonight that I murdered someone—you can't ignore something like that! It won't go away!”

“Do you think you did it?” he asked quietly.

Tasia sat up and held the sheet to her br**sts, staring at him in the darkness. “I've tried a thousand times to remember what happened that night, but I can't. My heart starts to pound, and I feel sick, and…I'm afraid to know.”

Luke sat up also, a shadowy presence close beside her. “I don't believe you killed him. I don't think it's in you. And wanting to kill someone is not the same as doing it, or else most of the population would be guilty of murder.”

“What if I did? What if I'm guilty of stabbing a man in the throat because I hated him? I see it in my dreams, over and over again. Some nights I'm afraid to go to sleep.”

Luke reached out and slid his fingers over the smooth curve of her shoulder. “Then I'll watch over your sleep,” he whispered. “And I'll give you better things to dream about.” His touch moved downward until he found the crisp edge of linen clasped over her chest. Nudging the sheet lower, he ran his thumb in a gentle circle over her breast, awakening the velvety tip to a throbbing point. He heard her breath catch, felt the shiver that went through her. “I'm not sorry he's dead,” he said hoarsely. “I'm not sorry you're here with me now. And I won't let you leave me.”