Rapture Untamed (Feral Warriors #4)(39)

She stepped out of the shower and toweled dry, then wrapped the towel around her and returned to the bedroom, where Jag was lying on his back, still staring at the ceiling.

He rose and swung his legs over the side, rising in a sensuous, catlike movement. But he didn't move past her. He didn't move at all except to look at her, his gaze roaming her wet hair, her face, her bare shoulders.

His eyes were enigmatic, his expression pensive. "Did you make yourself come in the shower?"

Pamela Palmer Rapture Untamed

"That's hardly your business."

"You didn't. I can feel the tension coiled like a knot in your body." He held out his hand to her, but didn't take a step closer. "Let me make you come, Red."

Olivia sighed. "Just leave it, Jag. I'm fine."

He stepped closer, moving silently across the carpet to stand before her, then lifted his hand to twirl a lock of her wet hair around his finger. "I'm sorry. What I did was mean."

"Why did you do it?"

His gaze dropped, then rose again as he twirled that lock of her hair around his finger.

He shrugged, unhappiness etched on his face. "I don't know." His thumb stroked her cheek. "Let me make it up to you."

A better woman might have forgiven him and let him. "I'm not interested anymore, Jag."

She started to turn away, but his hand gripped her arm, holding her there.

Pamela Palmer Rapture Untamed

"Your body's interested, and we both know it." The devilish gleam entered his eye.

"We can do this the easy way or the hard way, Sugar. But I'm a determined man."

Mr. Nice Guy has left the room.No, not really. They were back to their battle of wills, but this was a battle she was likely to win, either way.

She met his gaze. "So I can fight you. Or I can spread my legs and let you make me come."

"That pretty much covers it."

She spread her stance, still keeping the towel tucked firmly around her. "Make it quick, please. We both need food before your friends arrive."

Devilment gleamed in his eyes, and she sighed. Goddess, when was she going to learn?

Since she asked him to be quick, he'd probably do just the opposite.

But he didn't. He reached between her legs, his warm hand cupping her as she tensed for the rush of pleasure to come.

Even before he sent the warmth racing into her body, his sheer maleness overpowered her senses, his hair brushing her cheek, his sleep-warmed scent sending heat spiraling low in her body, tightening the need that coiled deep within her.

Yes, she needed this.

His cheek brushed her temple in a surprisingly gentle caress a second before the heat poured into her from his magic hand, a rush of pleasure so powerful she cried out and grabbed his shoulder to keep from going down.

Two of his fingers dove deep inside her at the same time his free arm curled around her waist, holding her against him as the orgasm roared up, crashing over her. Even as she shattered from the first one, he thrust his fingers in and out of her, pressing the pleasure into her until a second release rushed over her. And a third. Jag buried his face in her hair, his thumb caressing her bare back as he held her against him. Wave upon wave of glorious release tore through her body until she was a boneless mass kept upright only by the strong arm at her back.

Finally, he pulled his fingers out of her and she came back to herself, her gasps turning to one deep, shuddering breath.

He shifted his hold on her, the hand that had given her such pleasure was now the one at her back, holding her upright. His other was in her hair, caressing her scalp with light, gentle strokes. Her own arms had wrapped themselves tight around his waist and he held her cradled against him. As if he wanted her there. As if he cared.

Longing welled up inside her, sharp and breath-stealing. Her eyes burned as the loneliness she'd long ago buried deep ripped free of its shell, swamping her. Jag's arm tightened around her as if he felt it. As if he would slay the dragon that had long ago hollowed out her life.

For a few precious moments, she gave in to the temptation and pressed her face tighter to his chest, seeking his warmth, and shelter from that terrible emptiness. But warmth from Jag could never be trusted. This sharp, strange connection was nothing but an illusion, no more solid than a Highland mist. She could pull away now, or wait for him to push her away.

Slowly she straightened, and he released her. She ducked her head as she struggled to regain her composure. But as she turned away, tightening the towel around her, she felt a large, warm hand cup her shoulder.

Olivia tensed as Jag turned her to face him. Their gazes met, and, for a single, brief moment, she glimpsed an ache in his eyes as deep as her own. And she felt that gossamer-thin connection between them strengthen and grow. If he'd opened his arms to her, she'd have stepped into them without hesitation.

Instead, his brows lowered, a familiar, unpleasant twist returning to his mouth, and she braced herself for the inevitable. Once more, they'd connected. Once more, he'd do something to anger her, to push her away.

But this time he only scowled, turned on his heel, and strode into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

Olivia raked her hair back off her face, letting her towel fall to the floor as she heard the shower turn on. Then she pressed the heels of her hands against her hot eyes. Her body throbbed with echoes of pleasure, the damp heat lingering between her thighs along with the feel of his warm hand tucked tight against her. Her chest ached from the bone-deep longing she hadn't even known she'd felt until he'd entered her life like a wild animal in attack mode.