Wicked Burn(33)

There was no way that he could maintain the sharp, near-to-bursting level of lust that he had for Niall for very long. His need for her was singularly intense, primitive . . . feral. Surely it wouldn’t survive for long after the initial volatile explosions that they created when they crashed together. Once their need for each other cooled, then they’d slow things down. Not now, though.

Uh-uh. No way.

“Want to know something else?” he challenged abruptly in a hard tone. “I don’t think that’s who you are, either. I’ve been to bed with you. You’re not the kind of woman who likes things watered down. Just the opposite, in fact. You said you wanted wide-open spaces, Niall. So how come when it comes to what’s happening between us you want to hide in some confining little corner?”

Vic paused, surprised to hear the anger in his voice. Niall’s suggestion that they cool things down had really pissed him off. Nothing was going to keep him from her, certainly not Niall’s half-assed attempts at doing so. She wanted him as much as he wanted her. Every time she met his gaze, the desire that he read in her beautiful eyes almost undid him.

So why did she fight the inevitable?

He removed the soggy cup from her grip before he held out his hand for her.

“Time for the rest of the house christening,” he informed her gruffly.

You said you wanted wide-open spaces, Niall. So how come when it comes to what’s happening between us you want to hide in some confining little corner?

Vic’s words swirled madly around Niall’s brain. Was he right? Since she’d met him, she’d been completely bowled over by him. His touch had brought her back to the realms of the living. Had what happened with Stephen the other day—the reawakening of her guilt—made her want to retreat back into the shadows?

Stephen lived in the world of his delusional madness, unable to withstand the pain of reality. Did some part of her think that she deserved a twisted half-life as well? Did she somehow need to prove to herself that she suffered just as greatly after the murder of their son as Stephen had?

I did suffer. God, I still do . . . I always will. How could it be otherwise? a voice in her head cried out an anguished reminder.

Niall’s gaze lowered from Vic’s steady, fiery eyes to his outstretched hand. Forsaking Vic would be a clear, measurable indication of her torment—a tangible sacrifice to the seemingly depthless hole of her grief after the meaningless murder of her beautiful four-year-old boy.

But God, hadn’t she suffered enough?

In her moment of indecision Rose Gonzalez’s voice rose in her awareness. It’s you who has to be at peace with this. Not your parents. Not your friends. Not me. Not even Stephen. You, Niall.

Instead of just taking Vic’s hand, Niall rose from her sitting position and knelt before him. Because of their disparity in height their faces were at the same level. She reached up slowly and touched his lean cheek, mesmerized by the way that leashed desire made his light eyes glow.

Her touch seemingly snapped his taut restraint. He pulled her toward him roughly, lifting her until she sat in his lap facing him. He bent and fastened his mouth to hers unerringly, their fit striking her once again as being divinely engineered.

Niall closed her eyes as the incredibly potent essence of Vic once again pervaded her, mingled with her own chemistry, and took her from a slow simmer to a torrid boil in a matter of seconds. Her hands cradled his jaw as her tongue tangled wildly with his. She sank into that kiss just as she submersed herself in the carnal, sensual world that he created for them with such stunning ease.

She was so involved in that erotic, tasty kiss that she didn’t realize Vic had unzipped her jacket and found the bottom of her shirt until she felt his hand on the sensitive skin of her belly and ribs. He found a satin-covered breast and palmed it roughly before he turned to lightly rolling her nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

She moaned and arched her back. The instinctive movement caused the sensitive tips of her breasts to crush into his chest and her * to press firmly into the stiff ridge beneath the fly of his jeans. She rocked against him, desperate for the steady pressure that his hard body provided her in calming her throbbing nerve endings.

Vic groaned and covered her hips and ass with his hands. He added the pressure of his strong arms, pushing and pressing her against him rhythmically. Their kiss grew wild and hungry, fueled as it was by the sinuous, friction-building movements of their bodies.

Niall cried out in protest a moment later when leaned away from her. Although they were fully clothed, she would have been shuddering in orgasm in a half a minute if Vic had kept her fully submerged in that heady kiss. God, the man knew how to use his mouth. She craned toward him as he moved away slightly, but he restrained her by spreading his hand in her hair and tugging gently.

He studied her as he touched her with feather-light fingertips. “Your cheeks get so pink when you’re turned on. I know it’s not an original thing to say, but you’re very beautiful, Niall.”

Niall swallowed heavily. Maybe the words weren’t singular, but the way Vic looked at her with such hot, soulful eyes when he said them certainly was. He gave his small, sexy smile as he lightly touched her damp lower lip.

Did he know that smile made her his willing slave?

He lowered his head and kissed her mouth softly, teasing her, making her hunger for more. “Stand up and take off all your clothes while I watch,” he muttered next to her lips when she strained up to try and get more of him.