He chuckled against her skin, wandering up to nip under her jaw. Grabbing her butt, he plunged inside her with one forceful stroke.
She cried out in shock at his entry, her body tightening, her nostrils flaring as she sucked in air. Pleasure edged with pain, arching her against him. Her thighs gripped his hips, her nails scored his back. So full, so big. A quiver spiraled deep inside her and she paused, frowning. He wasn’t moving. It was impossible. But just their being joined sent fire blasting through her. “Conn!” she cried out as she came, huge gusts of pleasure rolling from somewhere indefinable beneath her skin. Somewhere untouchable. The room sheeted white. She shut her eyes, riding the waves. Her nails dug in deeper as the storm overtook her, leaving her helpless as it departed.
He dropped his forehead to hers. “Jesus.”
Her eyes opened along with her mouth in amazement. The surrounding particles danced through the air and then narrowed into sharp focus.
He slid out and plunged back in. Then again. “Hold on, sweetheart.”
Reality slapped her in the face. The force between them, whether fate or Conn’s determination, might be too much for her to beat. She released his back, sliding her hands to his chest to push away. He slammed hard inside her. Pleasure rippled along awakened nerves, and she arched into him with a hiss of demand. She paused, and he plunged again. Sparks shot behind her eyes. She stopped trying to push him away and held on with all the strength she possessed. He drove harder. Faster. Stronger.
A pulsing contraction ripped through her sex, tightening her hold on him. He growled, the hand on her ass leaving bruises, the speed of his thrusts increasing. Their panting breath and the slap of flesh against flesh filled the room.
She fisted both hands in his hair, yanking his mouth down. Her teeth bit into his lips before she slid her tongue inside, determined to find some control as her world spiraled away. He fought her for dominance, his mouth hard on hers, his body pinning hers to the mattress. The kiss was messy, passionate, yet with an underlying sense of safety she’d have to examine later.
He lifted his head. “You make magic work, Moira.”
The sweetness in the midst of raw passion flayed her heart. She opened her mouth in confusion, only to snap it shut as he plunged. Hard, fast, and with power, he thrust into her. The tingling inside coiled higher and hotter. She reached for it, clutching onto him, shutting her eyes against the exquisite need. He shifted his angle, brushing over her clit. With a sharp cry, she broke.
His muscles tightened as he came. Collapsing against her, his rapid heartbeat slammed against hers. Almost as if they made sound, the walls she’d erected around her heart crumbled down. Damn it.
Moira awoke to the hum of the air vents in the plane, her back plastered against Conn’s front beneath the down comforter. Her entire body ached—though not entirely in a bad way. Her memory hadn’t played tricks on her. Sex with Conn was just as explosive and all consuming as she’d remembered.
Lazy, sated, her mind wandered into the past. Into the first time she’d seen him, naked to the waist, throwing a witch across a training field.
“A half-naked vampire. Told you this would be fun,” Moira whispered to her sister Darcy as they peered through thick foliage on the southern end of the training area. They’d escaped yet another round of diplomatic meetings to watch the Realm’s deadliest soldier teach new moves. She’d been watching Connlan Kayrs all week during the Realm Colloquium held in Ireland. “Maybe he’ll shuck his pants, too.”
Darcy snickered. “Mother is going to kill us.” She turned and eyed the rushing stream behind them, lifting her skirts away from the damp grass. “Let’s just not get wet.”
“Of course. ”
Connlan demonstrated a headlock on McPatty’s youngest son.
A fluttering set up in Moira’s stomach, reminding her of the first time she’d ventured into the rolling sea.
The vampire stood strong, muscles clearly defined and solid in his chest. Even across the distance, the magnificent color of his eyes piqued her curiosity. Rumor had it vampires had two colors for their eyes. She’d probably never see Conn’s vampire colors.
Then he’d looked up—directly at her. Stunned by the power in those otherworldly eyes, she caught her breath and stepped back. A protruding branch caught her heel. The rest was inevitable. In a fluff of silk and scattering of leaves, she landed on her arse in the stream, cursing a streak worse than the loudest drunk at Shea’s tavern on a Saturday night.
The shock of cold had her muscles going rigid. Smooth rocks lined the stream’s bottom, no doubt leaving bruises on her rear. Chilly water rushed around her, instantly soaking her skirts. She pressed down with her palms, slipping on the moss.
“Moira, be quiet.” Darcy stepped gingerly over the offending branch, keeping her boots shy of the stream. “I’ll lean out ... you grab my hand.”
A twig snapped in warning before a large form yanked brush out of the way. “Allow me.” Two strides had Connlan Kayrs in the stream and grasping her by the armpits. He lifted her as if her molecules had been rearranged into air.
As he set her down, pure amusement lifted the corners of his devastating mouth. “You’re not dressed for swimming, Miss Dunne.”
She stumbled on the uneven ground, seeking balance. He knew her name. Well, her last name. She peered around his hulking body to see men busily training in the field. Thank goodness no one else saw. “How did you see me?”
The smile broadened. “Good eyes. Good ears, too.”
Ears? What had she said? Fire rushed into her face. She’d wanted him to remove his pants. Even now, his bare chest beckoned her. What would he taste like? She shook her head. Good thing he couldn’t read minds.
“How fortunate.” Her tongue felt too large in her mouth. Irritation wandered down her spine.
He smiled at Darcy. “Miss Dunne.”
Darcy twittered. She actually twittered. “Prince Kayrs.”
The irritation wandered into anger. Moira stepped back. “Thank you for your assistance. You no doubt should return to work.” She lifted her chin. The water weighed down her skirts, making it nearly impossible to move.
His eyes sparkled a deeper green than her aunt Viv’s climbing ivy. “I’ll escort you back to the meeting area.”
“No.” Panic had her eyes widening to let in more light. She looked akin to a drowned cat. Her mother really would kill her. “Thank you. We’ll watch awhile longer.”
“I’m not removing my pants.” He said it soberly, but his eyes laughed.
How indiscreet. Darcy coughed. Moira sniffed. “I should hope not. But I want to watch the training. Learn the moves.” It was the truth.
Darcy rolled her eyes. “Moira, you don’t need training. You’re the Seventh. When you’re on the council, you’ll have bodyguards.”
“I want to learn to fight.” They’d been over it repeatedly. She eyed the vampire. “What do you think?” Maybe he’d teach her. Kell and Adam always refused, but Daire had seemed open to the possibility.
Conn’s gaze wandered over her still warm face, down to her soppy wet boots and back up. “I think you’re too pretty to fight.”
A tingle set her skin on fire from his traveling gaze. Pleasure warmed her from the compliment, irritation filled her from the dismissal. “Think so, do you?” Holding her palms out, she formed a ball of pulsating plasma. Fate might force her to become a diplomat, but no one should ever underestimate her.