Mind Game (GhostWalkers, #2)(120)

“None,” he declared. “This is all mine.” His face was close to hers, his warm breath teasing her skin. He kissed her, a long, hard kiss that told her his slow, leisurely manner was a fa?ade. He was boiling inside, a volcanic eruption imminent. Deliberately, Dahlia trailed her fingertips over his belly. She smiled as she felt the reaction, his muscles tightening, the long thick length of him hardening even more against her thigh.

He pushed her hands away from him, took her glass of lemonade from her, tilting the glass so that the ice-cold contents splashed on her stomach and raced to her belly button. Immediately he followed the path of the liquid, his tongue swirling over her bare skin, lapping at the underside of her breast, along her ribs, teasing her stomach and navel until her hips writhed beneath him.

His arm clamped over her thighs. “Don’t move. I just want to indulge myself.”

Dahlia lay back, her arms stretched over her head, her body open to his exploration. She loved him in this mood. “Go ahead, who am I to stop your fun.”

He pulled her thighs apart and pushed his hand into her heat. He was a little rough, his hands hard as they massaged her thighs and his fingers pushed through her wet folds, but her body and her heart always wanted more.

She could taste her own sexual excitement, lying there open to him in the sun, an offering to him as his tongue made a foray lower, teasing her, taunting her, claiming her body for his own. He always made her feel as if she belonged to him. As if he belonged to her. She shivered as his tongue plunged deep and he held her helpless under his larger, stronger body. He always made her feel safe and excited rather than vulnerable.

He lapped at her, licking her as if she were filled with honey and he needed every drop just to live. A sound escaped her throat. She tried to push into his hungry mouth, but his arm was clamped hard around her thighs, making it impossible. His teeth scraped at the tender flesh just inside her thigh. He lifted her hips, dragged her to him, allowing his sexual appetite to increase. The energy flowed around them, massed between them.

Dahlia recognized it, embraced it, allowing it to take her over, swamp her with the same driving obsession of hunger. Her breasts ached until she cupped them, wanting to relieve the ache. Instantly he pulled her hands away from her body and took possession of her breasts, claiming her for his own. He suckled strongly, the rhythm in time with his fingers as they drove in and out of her, going deep, pushing her needs higher and higher.

Excitement flushed her body, made her so wet and welcoming she could barely keep from screaming. Her fingers tangled in his hair and she tried to tug, to bring him over her, to make him enter her. “I want you so much, Nicolas, hurry up.”

Her breathless gasps only fueled the fire raging in him. Elusive Dahlia. She refused to commit to him. It made him crazy sometimes. He wanted to bind her to him, even if all he had was the sexual firestorm neither could ever sufficiently put out. She moved under him like so much heated silk. She tasted of honey and strawberry. She matched his every sexual hunger, never denied him anything. Yet he always felt her slipping away from him.

He lifted his head to look at her face. The sexual need was etched there, just as he knew it was on his face. “Marry me, Dahlia. Stay with me forever.”

She stilled beneath his hands, his mouth. He couldn’t believe the plea had slipped out when he knew she wasn’t ready. He lowered his mouth to her breast, lapping at her nipple, suckling there, while his fingers pushed deeper into her body.

Dahlia’s gaze was on the flames dancing around the pool. They tried to save their hottest lovemaking for outdoors, near the water where they knew it was safer. “Are you certain, Nicolas?”

He went just as still, lifting his head to look down at her. Shocked. Hope was a terrible thing, pushing its way into his heart and soul. “You know I love you, Dahlia. I never want to be without you.”

“What if we can’t ever have a family?” She pushed her hips against his plunging fingers, wanting him inside of her. Desperate for his invasion.

“We’ll be our own family.” His heart was pounding, his body nearly exploding.

She squirmed against his hand. “Once you’re inside me, I’ll give you my answer.”

He didn’t wait. There was no waiting, if he didn’t take her right then, he might lose all control. He caught her hips and dragged her to him, her legs around him, so that he could plunge into her tight, wet channel. He drove in deep and hard, his hands clamped on her ankles, forcing her legs to wrap around his waist. There was little give in the mat and he could lever himself above her, thrusting with long, deep strokes. He was instantly lost in the inferno of her body. Sanity always went out the window when he was thrusting into her, when she was lifting her hips to meet the impact of his, when she opened herself more, determined to take all of him.

He loved her like this, her face turned up to his, her breasts swaying with the jolting impact of their union. She was so beautiful. So real. Her muscles clenched around him, squeezing and gripping until he thought he’d go out of his mind. He heard his mind screaming at her, chanting over and over. Say yes, say you want me the same way. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t get a word out when she was milking his body of every drop of pleasure from his toes to the top of his head.

Dahlia’s body moved in perfect rhythm with his. He surrounded her, battered at her, loved her. She craved him in the same way he craved her. Not just his body, as beautiful as it was, but the two sides of his nature, wild and rough and gentle and tender. He was rough now, his hands hard, fingers biting into her as the energy swelled with the ferocity of their lovemaking. She matched him, her nails biting deep, her cries for more, always more. She drove him with the same wild hunger as he drove her.