"What things?" Carla said shakily, letting Luke take the weight of her body as she reached up to give him the kiss he had requested. Then she heard her own words and buried her face against his neck, realizing anew precisely what that hard ridge of flesh was beneath his jeans – and aware, too, that his arousal made her feel proud and restless and more than a little curious all at once. "Er, besides the obvious, that is."
"It’s obvious, all right." Luke laughed softly, realizing that his changed body didn’t frighten Carla as it had three years ago. He tilted her face up and saw the mixture of feminine pride and virginal curiosity in her expression. Amusement and passion warred for control of his body. Both won. "God, I wish I could stop time and keep you locked away forever. My own very private supply of sunshine," he said against her lips.
When Carla started to answer, Luke took her mouth with a hunger that shook both of them. She felt vividly the velvet penetration of his tongue, the power and hardness of his arms lifting her, the world turning and dipping, ribbons of fire wrapping around them once more. When the ground came up softly to meet her, she realized that she was lying on one of the sleeping bags with Luke beside her, urging her closer and closer to himself. She trembled even as she pressed more intimately against his big body.
"Are you all right?" he asked.
"Yes."
"You’re trembling."
"So are you."
"I know. I barely had the strength to lift you."
Carla’s eyes widened and her hands tightened on Luke’s muscular shoulders, silently pointing out the inherent power of his body.
"Yeah, being weak came as a surprise to me, too," he said, his voice uneven with desire and laughter. He whispered her name and bent down to her mouth once more. "I ache, Carla. Want to kiss me and make it all better?"
The passionate whimsy of Luke’s question made her smile. She was still smiling when his mouth came down on hers in a slow, complete mating that drew a moan from deep within her. He drank the small sound and thirsted for more.
Luke’s hands smoothed over Carla’s body, seeking her breasts, caressing them in hot silence. Her cotton shirt and sheer bra didn’t conceal her immediate response. He caught the hardened nipple between his fingers and plucked rhythmically, hearing her shattered moan, tasting it, feeling it, demanding it with the deep seduction of his kiss and the hunger of his hands.
When Carla’s breasts were hot and swollen, their tips hard and aching for more of Luke’s caresses, his right hand slid down her body. Stroking, probing, smoothing, inciting, he savored the curve of her waist and belly. She arched against his hand, burning and shivering, needing something more, unable to tell him what she wanted because her mouth was wholly his, caught in a slow mating she didn’t want to end.
Luke’s palm caressed her hips and thighs repeatedly, pressing against her, moving her in the rhythms of his tongue deep within her sweet mouth. Gently, inevitably, his hand eased higher and higher between her thighs until he could go no farther. His fingers curved around her and his palm began to move slowly, insistently, rhythmically; and the sultry heat that blossomed at his touch made him groan.
His hands and mouth became harder, more demanding, dragging a broken sound from Carla, a sound that incited Luke unbearably. He wanted to hear more such cries ripple from her, wanted to coax them from her in a fiery, unending cascade, wanted to discover and savor and taste each of her responses. He wanted to consume her and find hot consummation in an unbridled intimacy he had neither sought nor desired with any woman but her, and he wanted it until he died.
The broken whimpers Carla was making finally penetrated Luke’s passion. He tore his mouth away from hers and dragged his hands free of her rich, alluring softness.
"Luke – please – I – "
In the moment before control came back to Luke, he shuddered like a man in torment.
"Sorry," he said hoarsely, smoothing the hair away from Carla’s face. "I’m sorry, sunshine. I didn’t mean to frighten you."
"That’s not – " Carla’s voice broke. "I didn’t mean – "
She tried to bring herself under control but couldn’t. She made a ragged sound and captured one of Luke’s hands, kissed his palm, then closed her teeth on it in helpless response to the baffling, conflicting feelings raging within her, wanting to caress and savage him at the same time.
"Oh, baby," Luke said, closing his eyes, his whole body clenched in violent response. "You’re killing me and you don’t even know it."
"I’m sorry," Carla said shakily, shocked by her own actions. "I don’t know why I did that. I just – just – "
He didn’t wait for her to finish her sentence. "I’ll forgive you if you do it again."
"What?"
"You heard me. Only harder, baby. Harder."
Luke’s body tightened as Carla sank her teeth into the pad of flesh at the base of his thumb. Her barely restrained violence told Luke that her frustration equaled his own, and she didn’t even know what she was missing. The thought of giving her what she needed sent a searing rush of blood through his body that nearly undid him.
Watching Carla, feeling as though he were going to lose control with the next breath or the one after, Luke lifted his hand, licked the small marks she had left on his skin and saw her tremble. His fingers closed on his collar and he pulled sharply. The shirt came undone with a rippling sound as metal snaps gave way, revealing a dark pelt of hair and muscles gleaming with firelight and desire. His hand shot out and wrapped around her head, pulling her against his naked chest.
"Again," Luke whispered.
Uncertain, Carla brushed her mouth over Luke’s chest, raked him lightly with her teeth, tasted the salt of his passion and the fierceness of his restraint, inhaled the exciting smell of skin and soap and male heat Slowly she put her mouth against Luke again, tasted him again, felt the unbridled sensuality of his response. A soft, fragmented sound came from her lips as urgency rushed through her, twisting her, making her ache. Her hands clenched against his chest "Harder," Luke said, watching Carla with burning golden eyes. "Go ahead. Bite me. That’s what you want You’re shaking and tied up in knots and you know I’m the cause of it and you want it to stop but you want it to go on forever, too. You’re frustrated and on fire and confused and you want to take it out on me. Do it, baby. Do if."
With a small, wild cry, Carla did what Luke urged, what she wanted, what she needed. Her teeth sank sensually into the flexed muscles of his chest, testing his strength and her own restraint at the same time. He made a hoarse sound of pleasure and encouragement. Her fingers worked through the wedge of springy, silky hair, pulling and kneading, her nails biting into his hard flesh even as her teeth did.
Luke laughed and urged Carla on while he undressed her. His words were dark and hot, punctuated by the ragged rush of her breathing and his own. The scoring of her nails down his chest was like wild, hot rain, and the primitive caress of her teeth was stroke after stroke of lightning scorching through him, setting him on fire. He didn’t know how much longer he could endure the sweet torment, but he knew he was going to find out. The thought of denying himself one fiery instant of Car-la’s passion was worse than any frustration he might feel at the moment.
With a hoarse groan Luke finally pulled Carla’s mourn up to his own and devoured her in a ravenous kiss that would have frightened her only minutes before; but now she needed that fierce claiming more than breath itself. She put her arms around his neck, tangled her fingers deeply in his hair and gave back the kiss with an unleashed passion that matched his.
The world spun again as Luke’s hands moved over Carla like hard, warm rain, dissolving everything away, leaving her naked and shivering in his arms. He held her, felt her shaking, heard her broken breaths and remembered all the years he had spent dreaming of having her offer herself to him again and his own vow that he would be gentle if she ever did. Cursing his own nearly overwhelming need, aching, burning alive, he fought for self-control.