Skin-to-skin contact all over. But not so much as a hint of dissonance.
He checked his shields and found them secure. His power reserves were another matter altogether. He was tapped out. When he glanced at the time laser-projected onto the facing wall, the color a deep green, he realized why. Despite the darkness, it was just after noon—Brenna had likely turned off the simulated daylight. He’d slept for seventeen hours at most and his psychic abilities needed close to twenty-four to regenerate. However, physically, he felt fine. It didn’t make sense, but he wasn’t complaining.
Feeling very alive and very male, he moved his hand over Brenna’s thigh. She murmured and heat spiked in his gut. He waited for the pain response to kick in and punish him for breaking conditioning. It never came. His hand clenched on her.
“Judd.” A sleepy complaint.
He gentled his touch. “Sorry.” Kissing the curve of her neck, he waited for the pain again. Nothing. “It’s tied to my abilities.” Of course. That was why the dissonance had been so extreme, why he’d started to bleed.
Because that was how his Tk worked
—
by applying pressure.
“What is?” She sounded half-asleep.
“The dissonance.” They’d used his own abilities to punish him. It made perfect sense—linking his abilities negatively with emotion reinforced the need to repudiate that emotion, which, in turn, kept his telekinesis from getting out of control.
But now he was wiped out, which meant that while the dissonance controls still
existed,
there was nothing for them to draw power from. More importantly, until his abilities regenerated, he was no danger to Brenna. He could touch her, taste her, love her. He was hard before the thought ended.
Moving his hand up her thigh, he felt the lace edge of her panties, so delicate under his fingers, but not as delicate as her skin. Sliding a finger under that edge, he ran it down to brush her curls.
“Judd!” A gasp to full wakefulness. “What are you doing?”
“Touching you.”
Her head shifted on his arm. “Oh.” A whisper. “Doesn’t it hurt you?”
“No.” Spreading his fingers, he cupped her as he had once before.
She squeaked out a cry. “Baby, you heard of foreplay?”
He might even have smiled had he known how to do it. “I’m just getting started.” The heat of her burned his skin. “I’ve had a really long time to plan.”
“P-plan?” She coughed as if to clear her throat. “What do you mean—plan?”
He pulled his hand out of her panties to run his finger along the waistband, pushing up his thigh at the same time to rub more intimately against her. His erection throbbed at the proximity. “I thought I should be prepared if the opportunity to touch you without danger ever came to pass.”
Her stomach muscles contracted under his palm. “Is it a detailed plan?”
“Very.” He breathed in the scent at the curve of her neck, then kissed.
She shuddered and tried to turn but he only allowed her halfway, keeping their lower bodies intertwined. Then he braced himself on one elbow and simply looked at her. This close, the darkness was no barrier to his visual mapping of her features. Her eyes glowed a little, especially the flare of blue around the pupils.
It fascinated him. “Beautiful.”
She reached up to tangle her hand in his hair. “Let me turn properly.”
He pushed his thigh higher, pressing into the damp heat of her. Her gasp was both startled and inviting. He moved his thigh back and forth a couple of times. Her eyes fluttered shut. “Tease.” It was a husky accusation.
“On the contrary. I intend to deliver.” He tugged her hand from his hair and nudged her back into her previous position, spooning his body around her.
She made a displeased sound. “I can’t touch you this way.”
“I know.” They called him the Man of Ice, but where Brenna was concerned, he was anything but. If she stroked him, he wouldn’t be able to complete even a tenth of his plan. And for a man who’d been hungry as long as he had, a quick bite held no appeal. He wanted to linger, to gorge, to indulge. With that thought in mind, he ran his hand back under her slip and over the warm silk of her skin. “Is your skin this soft all over?”
Her heart thudded under his touch as he went higher. “Some places are even softer.”
“Now who’s the tease?” He ran his thumb along the underside of one breast.
Her hand clenched on his forearm. Kissing the side of her neck once more, he repeated the stroking caress but went higher. Again. Higher. He could feel her holding her breath as he lingered just below her nipple.
“Judd, please.”
He flicked his finger across the tightly furled bud. She cried out and asked for more. He didn’t give it to her. Instead he retreated to draw a slow circle low on her navel.
“I’m going to kill you.”
He chuckled and it was a sound he’d never before heard come from his own throat. “Patience is a virtue.”
She seemed about to reply but then he began retracing his prior journey, his goal her neglected breast. She went quiet.
Anticipation lingered in the air and he was so sensitive to its touch he could almost taste it. Her skin flushed with heat, her breathing jagged. And when he touched her breast, the rhythm of her heart turned into a staccato drumbeat. This time, he didn’t flick her nipple but closed his hand over the firm, hot rise of her flesh. “Your breasts make me want to bite.”
She arched into his hold, her hand squeezing his arm. “Do it.” A dare. An invitation.
“Not yet.” That would accelerate something he was determined to draw out forever. “I want to savor my first bite.”
Her claws nicked his skin. “No more playing.”
He bit her neck in response, making her tremble and withdraw her claws. “So impatient.” Not giving her any warning, he slipped his hand down and under the waistband of her panties again. Spearing through her curls, he pressed his thumb on her clitoris at the same time as he used his fingers to tease the damp entrance to her body.
She gave a startled cry and then her body went taut. Liquid heat covered his fingers, scenting the air with a sharp wildness. He continued to stroke her as she shuddered several times before her body went soft and sated. Even then he didn’t stop, indulging his need to pet her with long, easy movements as she lay quiescent.
When she finally attempted to turn, he withdrew his thigh and let her, but kept his fingers where they were. She nuzzled at his throat, ran her fingers over his chest. It was no longer an odd feeling for him to be touched by her, but the sexual context changed the tone of the caresses, gave them a different weight. He liked the result.
“Where did you learn all this?” she murmured. “You’re a virgin.”
He almost halted. “I suppose you’re right, technically speaking.” Sex had effectively been wiped out by Silence. Oh, his race had continued practicing it for the sake of procreation—until technology had made that unnecessary—but it had become a mechanical, passionless act. In the present time, normal Psy considered sex an impractical and worthless “animal” exercise. His brethren didn’t value the beauty of bonding with another being on such an intimate level.
Brenna was kissing a line across his chest. “Technically speaking?”
“I’m very good at research—some might say I was obsessed with this particular topic.” He slid his fingers up and out to rest his hand on her abdomen once again.
She ran her teeth over his skin. “Exactly what kind of research did you do?”
“An Arrow never divulges his sources.” Using the hand under her head to tangle in her hair, he kept her in place as he claimed a deep kiss. She responded with pleasure but below that was a strange tension that he knew she probably wasn’t aware of.
Scars from the abduction.
They’d take time to heal. He didn’t allow himself to think ahead to the moment when he’d enter her body. That would be the most difficult part, connected so profoundly were the sensations with the nightmare. “Do you want to be on top?” he asked against her mouth, recalling her lack of fear when she’d straddled him in the armchair.
“Will that interfere with your master plan?” She smiled and he felt rather than saw it. Her hand began to slide south.
He pushed it back up. “There is a degree of flexibility built into the plan. But you don’t get to touch me yet.”
A sensual feminine laugh. “I’m okay, baby.” Her hands gripped the sides of his waist. “I’ll let you know when I need something other than what you’re doing.”
So she
was
aware of her anxiety, unsurprising really, given her will. “Don’t scratch too hard.”
Another laugh. “I’m not the dangerous one in this bed. You’re driving me crazy, you know that.”
“Good. My research tells me that that is my job as your lover. I hear predatory changeling women are tough critics.”
“Believe me, you have nothing to worry about.” She licked at the skin of his neck.
Breaking the contact, he fit his body over hers, alert to her reaction. She didn’t withdraw, so he braced himself on one arm and brought the hand of the other up to close over her satin-covered breast. She sucked in a breath. And when he nudged at her with the painful hardness of his erection, she didn’t hesitate to wrap her legs around him. “Kiss?”
He fulfilled her request, already addicted to the taste of her. His male instincts bucked at the reins, wanting to go quicker, deeper, but he held fast, helped by the very skills that usually kept him coldly distant. As they kissed, he massaged her breast, testing what made her moan, what made her wriggle. Brenna, he discovered, liked it when he was firm in his touch. Soft caresses just made her complain with feminine impatience.
He was very, very glad for his lover’s preference. He knew he could do gentle—he had the control for it—but tonight he wanted to love her with everything in him. “Off,” he ordered, pushing up her slip. The plan had called for this to come later, but he hadn’t factored in the seduction of this particular woman so lush and welcoming beneath him.
She raised her arms and he pushed the material over her breasts with every intention of pulling it over her head . . . but found himself unable to move any farther. The mounds of her breasts thrust upward in pure temptation, the nipples hard and tight. He wanted to see them properly. Not thinking, he tried to use Tk to flick on a lamp but, of course, nothing happened.
Reaching across, he manually turned on the small light integrated into the headboard. It emitted a warm, almost hazy, glow. Brenna gasped but didn’t say anything, letting him devour her with his eyes. Her nipples were a dark strawberry color, the upper curves of her breasts creamy . . . but for a scatter of freckles that taunted his analytical Psy mind with their wild abandon.
“Judd?”
The thick desire in her voice was the last straw. Dipping his head, he sucked one tight bud into his mouth. Her hands gripped his hair as her body twisted under him as if to escape. But when he released the nipple to switch his focus to the other, she protested.
The sensations inside him were pure chaos. Fire and need and erotic heat. But blending into that dark male passion was something gentler, an emotion that didn’t dull the jagged edges of his hunger but which made him aware of Brenna’s reactions on an almost subconscious level.
Tenderness
. It was a strange feeling. So raw, so powerful, and yet it engendered the most intense care.
He let her nipple slide out of his mouth. She pulled him back, but he was more interested in running his gaze over the sheen of wetness on her breasts, wetness he had caused. A surge of possessiveness gripped him by the throat. Yes, she was most definitely his. Spurred to see more of her exotic female body, so unashamedly curvy, so different from his, he dragged the bunched-up slip up over her head and threw it aside.
“Keep them there,” he ordered when she would’ve lowered her raised arms.
She curled her fingers around the bars in the headboard, her eyes watching him with unconcealed interest. The position left her entire upper body exposed to his gaze and he took blatant advantage. Leaning in, he blew a breath across her nipples. Her body rose and fell in a sweet, soft wave and she held on tighter to the thin metal rods.
“It’s time for my bite,” he warned.
“Oh, God.”
The desire in that groan made his erection pound in time with his heartbeat. “Which side should I start on?”
Swallowing, she licked her lower lip. “Your choice.”
He cupped her left breast, shaped, stroked. And then he did what he’d threatened—he closed his teeth over one luscious side and pressed just hard enough to have her bucking under him. A long taste later, he did the same to her other breast. “Mmm,” he murmured, raising his head. “I think I’ll have seconds.” And he did.
Her chest fell up and down in ragged bursts. “Baby, are all your plans so detailed and slow?”
“Why?” He nipped at the underside of one breast.
She shivered. “Because I think you might give me a pleasure-induced stroke at the rate you’re going.”
Running his hands along her rib cage and to the dip of her waist, he kissed his way down the valley of her breasts and over her stomach. “Sometimes,” he said, “I’ll probably just pick you up, thrust you against a wall, and drive into you so hard, you’ll scream.” He used two fingers to pinch her clitoris in a firm grip as the last word left his mouth.
She exploded, her body arching so fiercely she lifted off the bed. Releasing the pearl of flesh that could cause such exquisite pleasure, he rose to kiss her neck as she shook with the aftereffects of her orgasm.
A feminine hand clenched in his hair. “You did that on purpose.” Husky, pleasured.
“What?” He began tracing a return path down her body.
“The image of you driving into me and then the touch.” She didn’t stop him when he began to lay kisses along the waistband of her panties. “Your way of proving the mind-body connection.”
He looked up with an internal scowl that he was sure had made it to his face. “You’re supposed to be too sated to think.” Or worry.
She chuckled. “My gorgeous, sexy Judd, at this point my brains are pure mush.” She reached down to push sweat-damp strands of hair off his forehead. “But I know tenderness when I feel it.”