Fury of Ice (36 page)

His brows collided. “
Like
?”

“Hoping for something stronger?”

“Try a lot.”

She tilted her head, raised a brow. All right. Screw it. She was jumping in. With both feet. “How about…want. Need. Crave. Those words suit you any better?”

“Christ, yeah, but…” His eyes shimmered, the glow full of heat that tumbled into a kaleidoscope of desire.

“But?”

Rikar scrubbed a hand over the back of his head. “We should talk, angel. About what Sloan said…about the energy-regression. There are things you should know…agree to, and—”

“Tell me later.” She unzipped her hoodie.

His mouth parted. Loving his reaction, Angela almost smiled. She held it in, shrugged her shoulders instead, letting the Lululemon fall to the floor, exposing her thin cotton tee. His hands curled into fists. Angela bit the inside of her lip, watching him want her.

His reaction was gratifying. Made her feel powerful. Desirable and needed. All that and she wasn’t even naked. Yet. Wasn’t busty, curvy, full of sexpot appeal like some women. Sure, her B cups held their own. Were high, taut, full enough for most men to appreciate. And currently braless. Which left little to the imagination. Especially when the chill in the room hit and her nipples furled tight beneath the cotton.

Rikar’s chest rose and fell, each breath coming harder…faster. “Unfair, angel.”

“Did you expect anything less?” she asked, playing the tease, throwing the words he’d used in the cellblock back at him. “Why don’t you come over here?”

“I’m…holy shit…I think maybe…” His throat bobbed as he swallowed.

Angela watched his fingers curl and uncurl, the action telling. He couldn’t wait to touch her. Was imagining what her nipples tasted like. Her mouth curved. He was easy to read. A classic case of tug-of-war…right versus wrong. Option one: forget
right
and make love to her. Option two: reject
wrong
and talk. She nibbled on her bottom lip, watched his focus shift to her lips. She lost the battle and smiled.

Time to put option one into play. Tempt fate a little. Or rather, help it along.

Her eyes on his face, Angela grabbed the hem of her T-shirt. She heard Rikar’s breath hitch. But mercy wasn’t in the cards. With one controlled movement, the cotton rolled up and over the top of her head. He choked. She hummed. Just the response she was looking for. The guy was toast and knew it. His
talk
had just gone out the window. No way would he be able to resist touching her now. Not while she stood bare-breasted in the lamplight, cotton dangling from her fingertips, chin raised in challenge.

Breathing hard, he stared at her, dark desire in his gaze. And oh, boy. No shoes. No shirt, but his expression said it all. She was about to get excellent service…Rikar style.

“Sweet Christ,” he rasped, pushing away from the door. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Angela.”

She murmured a thanks, but stayed perfectly still, letting him look, tempted to roll the yoga pants off her hips, down her thighs, and give him a real show. Hell, she’d do a pirouette for him. Perform a freaking ballet just as long as he crossed the room and touched her.

Right now.

His approach, though, was slow—predatory, animalistic—driving her crazy with anticipation.

One hand gripping the footboard, she turned up the heat and said, “You waiting for a formal invitation?”

Pale eyes aglow, he dragged his focus away from her breasts. As his gaze met hers, he asked, “What do you want, Angela?”

She swallowed. “You.”

“Be sure, love.”

She hesitated less than a heartbeat. “I am.”

“Then ask me.” His boots scraped against the wood floor as he moved toward her, more prowl than actual walk. “Spell it out. I need to hear you say it.”

“I want you to…” Angela chewed on the inside of her lip. Watched him approach. Working up the courage to say the words. “Make love to me.”

“You want me inside you?”

“Yes.”

“Any way I please?”

A tremor rolled through her, dragging a memory with it. She wanted Rikar, no question. But not the way the rat-bastard had—

Angela clenched her teeth. No way. Not here. Not now. She refused to allow shame to taint what she had with Rikar. It wasn’t her fault. But as tempting as it was, she couldn’t bury the pain. Hiding from him—lying to him—wouldn’t do either of them any good. He needed to know. She needed to tell him. Honesty was part of the package.

“Not from…” She cleared her throat and whispered, “Not from behind. He hurt me that way. I can’t handle that…not yet.”

“I won’t love you that way…not until you’re ready.” His voice was soft, full of compassion, but not pity. He understood, accepted her without reservation or judgment. And wow. Didn’t that just made her want to cry all over again. As she blinked back tears, Rikar stopped in front of her. “But I’ll take you every other way…long and hard, soft and sweet. No holds barred. You ready to give me that?”

She nodded.

“Yes or no, angel?”

Angela whispered another “Yes.”

“Fair warning then, love.” With slow deliberation, he reached out. His fingers slid across her skin, stroking her lightly before he cupped her cheek.

She turned in to the caress, reveling in his scent, the softness of his touch, the pure pleasure of connection. Tilting her chin up, he leaned in, making her heart pound and her lips part. Oh, man, she needed the taste of him on her tongue and in her mouth, the satisfaction of having him deep inside her. The warmth of his breath touched her first, his mouth second. She hummed, invited him in. He kept it light. A gentle nip. Another kiss. A featherlight caress on her skin.

He lingered, drawing her deep, prolonging the pleasure, delivering his taste in easy sips instead of long swallows. When she moaned, he drew away, holding her prisoner with his gaze. “If I make love to you now…give you the release you crave…I won’t let you go. Not in five minutes. Not in five years. Not ever, Angela.”

Thank you, God. Just what she needed to hear. He’d claimed her…word before deed. Honorable, in the way of the warrior. In a way she could accept and respect.

Tipping her chin up, she asked for another kiss, watching him beneath her lashes. He gave it to her, flicking the corner of her mouth with his tongue. Angela hummed, enjoying the gentle play as she slid her hands up his arms and around his neck. The tips of her breasts brushed his chest. Her breath caught, sensation spiraling in a bliss-filled wave.

She kissed him again, softly, sweetly—in warning. “I won’t ask you to let me go, but it works both ways, Rikar. If I accept you, you’re mine. No going back. No other women. Just me.”

“An easy enough bargain to make, love.” With a groan, he parted her lips and delved deep, tangling their tongues, making her moan as his arms came around her. His hands roamed, exploring her back, pulling her into the curve of his body. God. He felt so good…tasted even better, like dark pleasure and erotic spice, urgent need and blistering desire. Exactly as a man should. Growling low in his throat, he caressed her bottom, nipped her once, then lifted his head. “There has never been, nor will there ever be another female for me. I knew it the moment I met you.”

Angela drew in a quick breath. Her heart dipped, cracking wide open as he slipped inside and found a home. Oh, what a man: supportive, passionate…unafraid in the face of commitment.

Okay, so it wasn’t candy-coated. Or sugary the way
I love you…stay with me forever
would’ve been, but it was close. So almost there Angela’s throat went tight. And as her fingers played in his hair, she kissed the corner of his mouth and whispered his name.

Close was
close
, after all. And yeah, it would do.

For now.

As Angela settled in his arms, Rikar’s heart went jackrabbit, thumping hard against his breastbone. She whispered his name, making him ache with need as she deepened the kiss. Mmm, mmm good. She was unbelievable. Delicious. Lush. Rich. And so fucking hot he didn’t know what to do first. Lay her out and love her hard. Or get down on his knees, spread her legs, and taste her deep.

Christ, yeah. That was his first choice.

He wanted at the red curls between her thighs. Needed her cream on his tongue. Deep in his mouth. Down the back of his throat. He wanted to feel her come while he licked into her slick folds. The image alone held the power to slay him. And as his erection thumped behind his button fly, he groaned, splayed his hands against her back, reveling in the smoothness of her skin, the beauty of her scent, the unbelievable taste of her mouth. He stroked deeper with his tongue. Hummed as she opened wider, inviting his possession.

Shit.
Possession
. Not even close.
Possessed
was more like it.

Beautiful female…his mate, his match in every way.

He was bewitched. Completely ruined by her willing abandon. The absolute trust she placed in him. She was so soft. So needy. Spectacular in her passion and the way she accepted him. A dream come true?

No kidding.

He’d dreamed of her, just…like…this. Had spent an inordinate amount of time imagining her in every sexual position known to Dragonkind. Christ. Forget the
Kama Sutra
. That shit had nothing on him. And yet, no amount of imagining had prepared him. Nothing approached the reality of having her in his arms.

One hand buried in her hair, Rikar slid the other down, exploring her curves, heading for her bottom. He loved her body. Smooth skin poured over lithe, athletic curves: strong, sexy, undeniably female. And all his.

His
. Every glorious inch of her.

Withdrawing from the kiss, he nipped her lip, playing, teasing, flirting with pleasure as he fingered the waistband of her yoga pants. “These need to go, angel.”

“You first.” She smiled against his mouth, stroked her hands over his shoulders, tugging at his T-shirt. “God, Rikar. You’re so strong. I love the way you feel.” Her soft hum of appreciation drew him taut, and muscles across his abdomen tightened, pulling at his hipbones. Her teeth plucked at her bottom lip, driving him crazy, making him want to taste her again as her hands traveled, sliding south, caressing his chest through the cotton. “Off. Take it off. I want to see all of you.”

Rikar shivered as desire flicked him with sharp claws. Each nick drew him closer to the edge…to desperation and the urge to forget what she needed—a long, gentle loving—and take what he wanted. Bury himself to the hilt inside her. Ride her hard while he made her come over and over, again and again.

But even if she agreed, he couldn’t love her that way. Not the first time. Later would be soon enough. He’d take her the way he yearned to after he’d pleased her so well she couldn’t remember her own name. Just his.

Nuzzling the underside of his chin, Angela slipped her hands beneath the hem of his shirt. He cursed as she caressed him, clever fingers brushing his nipples as she planted a kiss in the center of his chest.

Christ help him. What was he supposed to be doing again?

Rikar frowned, tipping his head back to give her more access. Oh, right. Getting naked for her. Fan-fucking-tastic. He was so on board with that plan.

Unleashing his magic, Rikar ditched his clothes, tossing his jeans, shirt, and shitkickers into his mental vault.

“Oh!” Startled by the fast-n-fly, she jumped a little in his arms. “Holy hell…you’re…oh, man.”

“One of my many talents.”

“I like that one,” she said, hazel eyes dark with need.

He tried to be patient, to let her explore and look her fill, but…fuck. She had busy hands—talented frickin’ hands—and as she caressed him, heading south, his chest pumped and his balls fisted up tight. He needed to stop her now, before she went any lower. If she wrapped her fingers around him, he’d lose it. Come so hard and fast she wouldn’t get what she wanted. Or what he was dying to give her.

She raked her nails in a light pass over his abdomen. “
Nice
.”

“Glad you like it,” he said, sounding like a weak-ass, totally besotted pansy. Which he was. He still hadn’t grabbed her hands. Was letting her drift south even though he knew it was a bad, bad,
bad
idea. “Angela…baby, I can’t…if you palm me, I’m gonna…oh, fuck!”

Rikar groaned as her small hands encircled him, one curling around his length while the other dipped lower. Unable to say no, he muttered a curse when she cupped him from underneath, massaging gently as she stroked him base to tip. His hips rolled into her rhythm, curling on the base of his spine. Holy shit, that felt un-freaking-believable. The way she handled him…goddamn. Angela knew what she was doing. Each stroke and release brought him to the edge of rapture, but never quite threw him over.

“Rikar?”

“Sweet angel…you’re killing me.”

“Then get ready to die happy, gorgeous. I’m going down.”

“No…don’t,” he rasped, making a grab for her bare shoulders.

Too late. She was already on her knees between his legs, her hot mouth on his shaft. Without mercy, she lollipopped him from root to tip. A wet flick. A soft swirling suck and—