Shadow Game (GhostWalkers, #1)(94)

The music was ending, the last notes dying away. He intended to let her go, to watch her circle the room, to be satisfied with the brief contact, but little jackhammers were ripping through his brain and he hurt so bad he was afraid he wouldn't be able to walk, getting them safely off the dance floor.

The next number was slow and dreamy, the lights lowering even more. With Lily in his arms, Ryland guided the way through the mass of moving bodies away from any watchers. The captain had his hands full. The woman in the flame-colored dress at the bar had taken to Ryland's suggestion quickly and easily. He knew his men were in the shadows, waiting for him to slip away. Expecting him to return Lily to the security of the house now that they had ensured her safety and allowed him his one dance. Ryland checked that eyes weren't following then-progress as he moved Lily deeper into the shadows where he wanted her. Where he needed her.





Sixteen

THE spiraling staircase was a massive structure. In scouting the hotel, Nicolas had discovered the hidden recesses in stairwell. Built in the thirties, the building had been renovated since, and inside the locked utility closet there was a small, narrow door that had been covered over with paper. It led to a tiny private room that had most likely been used for things illegal. Nicholas had shown him the hideaway in case of an emergency. Ryland was certain this was an emergency.

He took her beneath the stairs, turned a corner, and went down a small series of steps to the utility closet door. He had no problem getting past the heavy lock and moving her right through to the small, narrow room where so many others had secreted themselves over the years. He laughed softly and told her, "In the speakeasy days, they had peepholes in here. You can still see the cracks."

She didn't answer him. Couldn't answer him. She didn't know whether to slap his face for being so completely arrogant and certain of himself, or whether to fling herself at him and kiss him senseless.

They stared at one another, the heat flaring relentlessly between them. He made the decision for her. His body crowded hers deeper into the shadow of the stairwell, his arms tightening possessively. "Kiss me, Lily. I have to have your mouth."

She couldn't resist the ache in his voice, the lure of the forbidden. Lily tilted her head back, gasped when his lips fused with hers. Hot. Starving. She tasted passion. She tasted desire. His tongue stroked and cajoled, sweeping aside her every inhibition, her every fear, so that she answered him, fire for fire.

This man was hers. He belonged to her. Wanted her. Needed her. She could never resist the urgency of his need. He was devouring her, right there in the shadows, his hands cupping her buttocks to align her body more perfectly with his. From mere feet away came the murmur of voices, laughter, and the chink of ice in glasses. The music invaded through the cracks in the thin walls, so loud it nearly shook the floor, filling the tiny hidden room. Ryland lifted his head, his eyes dark with raw passion as he looked into her blue gaze. His body was painfully aroused and she was looking up at him, bemused.

He could see the outline of her nipples, dark, thrusting against the thin clingy material of her gown. The sight drew him, tempted him. He slid his hand up the side of the dress, pushing the material away from her ribs, inching it out of the way to expose one full breast.

The cool air on her heated skin only added to her acute sensitivity. She wanted him right there, wanted his hands on her, his body buried deep in hers. The addiction to him was beyond anything she had ever experienced or had conceived could be possible. She wanted to rip away his shirt and feast her eyes on his chest, run her hands over his muscles, feel his need of her growing in her hand, against her body. Lily moved deliberately, bringing up her hands, running her fingertips along her ample curves, tracing a path down her flat stomach, reveling in the way his hot gaze followed.

Ryland's body hardened even more. She looked lush and sexy, pressed against the wall, her lips swollen and dark from his kisses. She looked wanton, her elegant gown shimmering, her breasts teasing his heightened senses. His fingers followed the path hers had taken over her breasts, skimmed the soft flesh, lingered, stroked, and massaged.

He felt her body tremble in response. He breathed warm air over her already taut nipple, slowly bent his head to temptation.

She moaned when his mouth, hot and moist, closed over her breast. His tongue danced to the music, stabbed and caressed. He suckled strongly, wanting to devour her, brand her.

At that moment, more than anything else, he needed to bury his fingers deep inside of her. Needed to feel her wet response. Ryland pressed closer to her, trapping her body there in the darkness, his hand finding the hem of her dress, circling her ankle with his fingers. He slid his palm up her calf, lingering for a moment as he traced the scars with loving care. His hand caressed her knee, slid all the way up her bare thigh.

Lily cradled his head, drowning in sensation. This was sheer madness. She heard her soft muffled groan as he found the heat of her damp curls. "Ryland," she whispered into his dark hair. "I'm going to go up in flames."

"I want you to, Lily. Burn for me." His fingers encountered the tiny scrap of underwear. His teeth nipped the side of her breast. "I thought you weren't wearing underwear. I'm so disappointed."

The sexy little thong was no hindrance as he pushed his finger into her, testing the depth of her response to him. Her gasp excited him more. The muscles of her fiery sheath clamped tightly, velvet soft, so tempting his body shook with urgency to bury itself in her. She was so beautiful to him. So necessary to him. She had no idea what she meant to him.