Murder Game (GhostWalkers, #7)(128)

Does this feel like a hallucination? She stood on her toes and lifted her face, finding his mouth to brush her lips back and forth persistently over his. Does this?

He didn’t move. Didn’t blink. His eyes, like a cat’s, remained wide open and staring, focused on her face, but he wasn’t seeing her. The denial in his mind was loud. He wouldn’t go there. He wouldn’t feel.

With one hand wrapped around the nape of his neck to keep him close to her, she unbuttoned her shirt with the other. His arm was heavy, but he didn’t resist her when she cupped his palm around the warm, soft, inviting mound of her breast and pressed her hand over his to hold him there. Is this a hallucination, Kadan? Come back to me.

He blinked. She felt his mind move against hers. Tentative. Raw anguish. Fear mounting to terror. A tendril of hope. He inhaled, drawing the scent of cinnamon deep into his lungs, as if he could trust his sense of smell, but not his mind. The cold receded just a little more.

His hand moved against her breast, an involuntary reflex. His thumb brushed over her nipple, sending a shiver of awareness down her spine. She went up on her toes again and kissed his mouth. “Kadan.” His name came out. A croak. Her throat protested, but she got his name out, aching for him, for that man crouched behind a wall of ice. A man shielded by the cold.

And then he crushed her. His arms whipped up and around her, nearly breaking her ribs with their strength. The gun landed on the chair, and the momentum of his body took her backward until she hit the wall. He enveloped her, his body so tight against hers she could barely breathe, his mouth in the hollow of her shoulder, his face wet against her skin. His body shuddered, wracked by silent sobs. He held her for a long time, just held her, without speaking, his mind in a turmoil, wild and unrestrained.

When he moved, his hand whipped up to span her throat, this time gently, but his thumb tipped her head back and he took her mouth, and there was nothing gentle there. He was rough, possessive, taking over, wanting to crawl inside her.

Tansy went pliant and accepting, kissing him back, letting his marauding hands tug away her shirt so he could slide his hands over every inch of her skin, whatever he wanted, whatever he needed. His mouth left hers, trailing kisses over her chin, down her throat, to her breast. She circled his neck with one arm and arched into him, a little helplessly as he took, frantic for the taste and feel of her.

“I have to be inside you right now,” he whispered hoarsely. “Right now, Tansy.”

The urgency in his voice, the mesmerizing need and desperation, had her tugging at his belt, his jeans, shoving them partway down his hips even as his mouth pulled strongly at her breast and his teeth tugged at her nipple. She was suddenly nearly as frantic as he was, her body clenching and dripping with liquid heat.

He lifted her, hands hard on her bottom, fingers digging deep as she wrapped her legs around his waist and locked her ankles tight. She could feel him pushing at her entrance, driving through tight folds to stretch her with his invasion. He didn’t give her time to adjust, but thrust upward as he dropped her down hard, her sheath enclosing him like a tight fist. She dug her fingers into his shoulders, throwing her head back, a moan escaping.

Kadan turned, angling her body so her back was against the wall and he could slam hard and fast, pounding deep in a frenzy of need to be part of her, to know she was alive, surrounding him with silken walls and scorching fire to melt away the last of the cold. He didn’t allow himself thought. He wanted only to feel. To know she was alive by touch, by sound, by scent. He didn’t trust his own mind, but his body knew hers, his hands and his burning, aching shaft as he thrust into her over and over.

“Look at me,” he commanded. He needed to see her eyes. Her eyes always told the truth.

Tansy’s gaze immediately jumped obediently to his. She looked sexy, eyes glazed with passion, her expression almost tortured as he rocked her body over and over with his pistoning hips. Her breath came in ragged gasps and her breasts bounced, but, as always, she held nothing back from him, moaning softly, her muscles tightening around him, riding his frantically bucking body with the same matching fervor as he rode hers.

Heat rose from his toes up his thighs to center in his groin. The fire raced through his bloodstream, burned in his belly and up through his chest, until it filled his mind with a rush of pleasure so intense it burst behind his eyes like streaking rockets. His body jerked and her muscles tightened to a stranglehold, gripping him with her fiery, silk-lined sheath. Jet after jet of hot seed soaked deep, triggering more violent ripples around him.

Kadan pressed her against the wall, his face buried in her throat while he gasped for air. Mostly he just savored the feel of her in his arms, his body surrounded by hers. When he could breathe a little, he managed to get to the edge of the bed and lay her down, his body collapsing over hers, still buried deep, holding her hips locked with his.

“I swear I’m going to live here—f*cking live here forever. I’m not letting you go, Tansy. I’m staying inside you, part of you, where I know you’re safe every minute of the day.” He buried his face against her breast, the warm, soft, inviting flesh she never kept from him. Never hid from him. “I thought you were dead. I held your body in my arms and thought you were dead.” A shudder ran through his body.

“I know,” she whispered, her hands caressing his damp hair. “I’m so sorry, Kadan.”

He shook his head, his shadowed jaw sliding sensuously between her breasts. “You shouldn’t be with me. I don’t know what I would have done. I looked at myself and saw all those killers standing right beside me. I wanted to kill. I even needed to.”