Wildfire Griffin (Fire & Rescue Shifters: Wildfire Crew #1)(59)

“I’m fine,” she said, and meant it. “This is wonderful. What happens now?”

He turned to catch the wind, his wings beating hard so that they came practically to a standstill. His beak turned to point straight downward. His feathered ears flattened against his head.

Even without words, his intention was obvious. She gulped, taking a firmer grip on his feathers. Her knees pressed into his sides. He stayed steady, balanced on the wind, waiting for her signal.

“I trust you,” she whispered. “Go.”

He folded his wings, and dove.

She couldn’t have screamed even if she’d wanted to. The wind was a howling hammer-blow against her face, trying to rip her from his back. She clung to him with all her strength, eyes scrunched shut. Her world narrowed to the rhythm of his heartbeat thundering through her blood, his soft-strong heat, the burn of her muscles as she locked her limbs around him.

He was hers. She was his. And she would never let anything separate them.

She was so focused on holding tight that she didn’t realize they were back on the ground until the warmth of his wings closed over her legs. She blinked, head spinning from the dizzying dive. He’d landed just outside his cabin, not far from where they’d started.

Before she could try to unclench her numb fingers, his form blurred underneath her. For a stomach-lurching instant, she was falling again—and then his arms caught her.

“Edith.” His fingers tightened, pulling her against his chest. “Oh, my Edith. You were magnificent.”

“I did it right?” she managed to gasp out, still breathless from the wild flight.

In answer, he kissed her again, even more fervently than before. There was a new feral urgency about him that made her already trembling legs go completely boneless. If he hadn’t been holding her up, she would have been a puddle on the floor.

His hot, demanding mouth left her lips, roving across her jaw and down her neck. He tasted her as though he was starving, her skin a feast.

“Higher the flight, stronger the bond,” he gasped into her neck, between savage, toe-curling kisses. “Griffin tradition. Edith, oh, Edith.”

She pressed against him, nipping at his own smoke-spice skin with equal passion. “What—what next?”

An animal growl rumbled through his chest, making liquid heat pool within her. He swept her up in his arms as easily as if she weighed nothing at all, kicking the door of his cabin open.

Good thing Wystan had to go watch over Callum, Edith thought distantly as he carried her inside. Though with the need burning within her, she wouldn’t have cared if the entire squad was still present. Every part of her was on fire, craving more.

Fortunately, Rory seemed to have shed the last remnants of his careful control. He practically threw her onto the bed, ripping at her clothes in a fevered frenzy.

All thought disappeared as he laid her bare. All she knew was the heat of his mouth, the roughness of his work-hardened hands skimming exquisitely over her curves.

He explored every inch of her as though gloating over a priceless treasure. He seemed to know what she needed even better than she did—lingering here, teasing there, until she was arching her back and crying out, hands fisting in his hair.

Even as his clever mouth made ecstasy crash through her, she needed more. Her muscles quivered with aftershocks of pleasure, yet she yearned for him worse than ever. She yanked at his shirt, near blind with desire.

He made a deep purr of masculine satisfaction. With a last teasing lick, he straightened up, pulling his shirt over his head in one fluid movement.

All the breath sighed out of her. She’d thought she’d known the shape of his body, but she’d never seen him bare like this before. His fully glory was revealed at last, every plane and ridge honed to sheer perfection.

She ran her hands greedily over his chest as he worked at his belt, reveling in the feel of his sleek, hot skin. She dug her nails into his sides and was rewarded by a hitch of breath, the muscles of his abdomen tightening. His hands worked even more feverishly at his clothes.

At last, at last, he was stripped naked for her, his desire clear. Part of her wanted to linger over him, exploring his velvet length with fingers and tongue as he’d explored her—but he caught her wrists, pinning her back against the bed. She was more than happy to accede to his urgency. She wrapped her legs around his lean hips, thrusting her own up in invitation.

As his body covered her, he turned his head aside a little, in a way that didn’t seem quite natural. Her heart melted as she realized that even now, in this intimate position, he was avoiding locking eyes with her.

“Rory.” She twisted her hands free, taking hold of his face and turning it back to her. “Look at me.”

His eyes were dark and fierce with hunger. They blazed like eclipsed suns, a thin rim of gold around wide, black pupils.

She fell into those burning depths boldly, without fear. She wanted to be flooded by his presence, to embrace his mind as much as his body.

“Yes,” she gasped, opening willingly to him. “Yes.”

He slid into her with a single hard thrust, filling her utterly with white-hot pleasure. It was more than the overwhelming sensation of his body buried deep in hers. He slid into her too—his love, his awe, his deep, true joy.

My mate! His mind joined with hers even as their hands linked in shared ecstasy. My mate!