Thief of Light (36 page)

The stuff in the second bottle was thicker, smelling of roses. Erik slathered some on the washcloth and stroked it over Prue’s shoulders, her collarbones, down her arms. She stiffened, but he ignored it. He was very thorough, picking up her hands to rub the cloth between her fingers, gliding it over her ribs, taking exquisite care of her sweet breasts.

With a sigh, Prue melted back against his shoulder, turning her head into his neck. “I’m not a child,” she complained, but her voice was very soft, almost drugged with pleasure.

Erik grinned. “I know.” Deliberately, he passed the cloth over her nipples, watching them ruche into velvety buds under the caress. Prue quivered and his mouth watered. Letting the cloth float away, he used his hands, stroking over the smooth satin of her stomach, learning the hard contours of her hip bones. Nerves jumped under the skin and her breath hitched. He transferred his attentions to the luxuriant curves of her bottom, closing his eyes so he could concentrate on the feel of the resilient flesh, the dimples either side of her spine and the tempting cleft between her buttocks.

Lord’s balls, she felt good, a beautiful, confiding weight against him, letting him give her what she needed, what they both needed.

Without speaking, he shifted her so that she lay across his lap, her head in the crook of his arm. When she opened her mouth, he bent his head to hers. “Sshh.” He skated his lips across hers, enjoying the tingle, the promise of it. Her mouth parted, inviting him in, her tongue like hot velvet, shy and desperate against his. She tasted intoxicating, a blend of tenderness and passion that made his breath come short and his arousal expand painfully against her hip.

He’d just escaped an agonizing disfigurement, possibly death. In some long-forgotten rational part of his brain, Erik knew the beast was driving him to reaffirm life, to plant his seed, but he couldn’t care, because his body was vibrating with the force of his desire, a dark whirlwind of need that threatened to tear him loose from his moorings. Outside, the storm howled and thrashed. Or was that inside?

With a gasp, Erik wrenched his mouth free. He estimated he had seconds left before either he spurted against her hip or fucked her then and there. He might even drown them both in the process, but gods, it would be worth it!

Prue’s eyes fluttered open, still hazed with passion. If a man wasn’t careful, he’d fall into those blue green pools and be gladly lost forever.

Breathing hard, Erik forced a smile and stroked her cheek. “Better now?” Shit, his hand trembled! Quickly, he pulled it away.

One small hand crept up, the pads of her fingers brushing the corner of his mouth, a fleeting caress. “Yes. You?”

“I will be soon.” A subterranean rumble, full of feral promise.

Prue blinked.

Gently, Erik set her aside and stretched out an arm to snag the hose. “In a bed.” Even to his own ears, he sounded hoarse. He swallowed hard. “I’m getting us clean and dry, and then I’m going to spread you out in a big, comfortable bed.” He began to rinse the suds from her hair.

To hell with it. He wiped the water away from her eyes and stared deep. “Under me. Your legs over my shoulders.”

Ruthlessly, he directed the spray back over her head. Prue made a muffled noise. He couldn’t tell what it meant.

“You’ll be helpless, Prue. Do you hear me? Helpless with pleasure.”

“Stop, stop.” She grabbed his wrist. Wriggling away from him, she pushed the wet hair out of her eyes.

Those aquamarine eyes blazed. “I’m done,” she said. “Get your hair wet. I’ll wash it for you.”

Prue was hard put not to laugh aloud. For an endless second, Erik’s handsome face went slack with surprise. A ruddy tide swept up over his neck and cheeks, making his eyes glitter like molten sapphires. Seizing her by the shoulders he planted a hasty, bruising kiss on her lips. Then he sank beneath the water, reappearing in a flurry right in front of her.

He scooped up a bottle from the bench next to the tub. “Hurry,” he said, slapping it into her hand. Dipping his head, he nibbled a tingling path across her collarbone, while his broad palms slid around her waist and wandered up and down her spine. “Get on with it.”

Prue filled one palm with the green stuff and buried her hands in his thick hair. The nerve-memory of his clever fingers throbbed all over her skin. In the short time she’d known him, Erik Thorensen had given her the most intense sexual experiences of her life. For the Sister’s sake, he’d pleasured her better than she could do for herself.

She wanted more, as much as he could give her while it lasted.

Her fingers slowed, massaging his scalp, the hard curve of bone unyielding beneath her fingertips, his hair sliding over her knuckles like heavy, waterlogged silk, cool and slippery.

Helpless
.

He’d said it, his deep, beautiful voice thrumming along her nerves. The word, the delicious, wanton promise of it, still echoed in her mind. Would he hold her down? He’d done it that way in his dressing room, and though it had been for only a few minutes, she’d felt soft and small and oh so feminine. Empty—yearning for the thick girth of his cock furrowing into the hot core of her, his magnificent length nudging her womb. She’d wanted,
needed
, so badly, she hadn’t been a rational being, just an instinctive bundle of sensation and hunger. For once in her life, she’d felt truly desired. By a man who was everything she’d ever wanted—and feared.

She might be insane, but gods, it was a beautiful madness.

Erik hummed against her skin, alternately kissing and sipping, chasing droplets with his tongue. Without once removing his hands from contact with her body, he skimmed his fingertips over her ribs and cupped both her breasts in his palms, hefting their weight.

Every thought in Prue’s head stuttered to a halt. She froze.

Erik licked over the inner swell of her breast, leaving a trail of hot tingles in his wake. Prue gasped, her nipples contracting so fast they ached. Gods, she hadn’t thought that was possible! “Rinse,” he growled into her cleavage.

When she managed to direct a wobbly spray at the back of his head, his lips curved against her skin. Transfixed, she watched clumps of suds slide over his broad shoulders and slither down the indentations on either side of his strong spine. Such a smooth golden expanse. She was about to trace the foam with a wondering finger when Erik shifted slightly, just enough to seal his hot mouth over her nipple.

She jerked, the spray arcing across the room to wet the wall. Erik pulled her nipple taut with careful relish. “Fuck, I want you.” When he spoke, his breath puffed across the wet skin and she stifled a yelp. “Finish it.
Quick
.”

He licked a heated path around her areola, then engulfed her distended flesh, compressing it against his tongue and the roof of his mouth, humming while he did so. Her whole body fizzed and sparkled with the luscious vibration. Using the same rhythm, he rasped the nipple of her other breast with his thumb.

“Erik, I—” Gasping, Prue broke off. Gods, had she whimpered? She was having to fight to keep her eyes open against the pleasure.

Barely missing a beat, Erik changed sides, but he raked her flesh gently with his teeth. A sensual reminder. Clumsily, she jammed the spray right against his skull, moving it about until the water ran clear.

“Done,” she panted.

He administered a final deep suckle that made her toes curl. “Thank the gods.” Flipping the spigots off, he pulled her against his chest with one brawny arm and surged to his feet, creating a wave that threatened to swamp the room. In some hidden recess of her once-practical mind, Prue remembered the shocking expense of the fittings, especially the elegant, deep-pile rug, but all she could think now was that when she pulled him down, the silk would be soft against her back as he shoved that thick, heavy cock into her until she screamed. Over and over while she wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him deeper and deeper and—

Erik set her on her feet and wrapped a crimson towel around her shoulders. Before she had a chance to take in the whole of his glorious nudity, he’d flung another over her head, spoiling the view. “Dry your hair,” he ordered.

Strong hands patted her shoulders dry, moved the towel down her back.

Swearing, Prue fought her way free. “What about you?”

“You first.” He was behind her now, rubbing the towel over the globes of her bottom in a decidedly sensuous way. She twisted around to glare over her shoulder and lost her breath.

Clothed, Erik Thorensen was a big man, but stripped he was even bigger, the depth of his chest fully revealed, the latent power of the muscle in his trim belly, his solid thighs, obvious to see. He was all hard planes and angles, the density of big bones and resilient male flesh, covered with smooth, tawny skin and dusted with golden hair that glinted in the warm light. Dripping as he was, his hair plastered to his skull, his masculine beauty was brutally apparent. Frowning with concentration, he went to his knees to dry the backs of her thighs, his buttocks flexing, the sides delightfully hollowed with the fluid shift of muscle.

Prue’s fists clenched. Her mouth watered. Clearing her throat, she said, “What about my front?” Despite her best intentions, her voice came out strained and husky.

Erik’s head jerked up and his wet hair brushed the back of her knee. Goose bumps skittering up her spine, Prue turned slowly to face him. His eyes blazed with a hot blue flame, like the secret heart of a furnace. Towel held loosely in his hands, he rose, towering over her. Her blood singing, she raised her chin to meet his gaze. “Then it’s your turn,” she said.

“Godsdammit, woman.” Erik appeared to be breathing hard through his nose. “Do you have a death wish? Do you know how close—?” He broke off.

Deliberately, Prue lowered her gaze. His cock arched up toward his navel, so engorged the satiny skin looked stretched, except for the soft, wrinkled collar beneath the head. Like the rest of his body, his shaft still glistened with bathwater. As she watched, a fat droplet rolled from the smooth, rosy glans to course his length, tracing the path of a throbbing vein, disappearing into a sandy tuft of curls, drawing her eye to where his testicles were drawn up between his thighs, plump and tense.

With a dark bolt of lust that nearly took her to the floor, she realized the liquid wasn’t water at all.

Erik lifted her chin with two fingers. “You want to play games with me, pretty Prue?” Though his jaw was set hard, his eyes danced with wicked delight.

“You took care of me. I should return the favor.” Exhilaration pumped through her blood. No man had ever challenged her the way Erik did—on every level. Letting her tongue creep out to whisk over her lower lip, she raised limpid eyes to his, trying to look innocent, aware she was failing. “You’ll, ah, catch your death.”

Erik rumbled with amusement. “There’s a price to be paid for games, sweetheart.”

Her belly fluttering with mingled excitement and apprehension, Prue placed the pad of her forefinger on the center of his chest. Slowly, slowly, she drew it down, following that intriguing arrow of hair, watching his nipples go small and tight, gooseflesh rising on his skin. The muscles of his stomach jerked under her touch. A hairsbreadth above the bobbing head of his cock, Erik caught her wrist in a hard grip.

Her gaze flashed up to his and something deep in her belly flip-flopped with relief and joy. Gods, he looked wild, his cheeks deeply flushed, the tendons in his neck standing taut. The fingers grasping her wrist felt like an iron band. Sweet Sister!

Fascinated, she followed the movement of his throat as he swallowed. “Prue, I can’t—” He broke off.

In a single movement, he scooped her right off the floor and into his arms, high against his wet chest. Turning, he kicked open the door to the bedchamber and strode through, muttering under his breath, the words so broken, she caught only a few. “Don’t . . . worry . . . swear I’ll—Fuck!”