“Here you go.” He leaned his head to me, his neck so close to my lips, I felt the heat coming off his skin. His breath was warm against my ear. His voice was a ragged snarl. “I miss you.”
This wasn’t happening.
“I worry about you.” He dipped his head and looked into my eyes. “I worry something stupid will happen and I won’t be there and you’ll be gone. I worry we won’t ever get a chance and it’s driving me out of my skull.”
No, no, no, no . . .
We stared at each other. The tiny space between us felt too hot. Muscles bulged on his naked frame. He looked feral.
Mad gold eyes stared into mine. “Do you miss me, Kate?”
I closed my eyes, trying to shut him out. I could lie and then we’d be back to square one. Nothing would be resolved. I’d still be alone, hating him and wanting him.
He grabbed my shoulders and shook me once. “Do you miss me?”
I took the plunge. “Yes.”
He kissed me. The taste of him was like an explosion of color in a gray room. It was a fierce, possessive kiss and I melted into it. His tongue brushed mine, eager and hot. I licked at it, tasting him again. My arms slid around his neck.
He growled, pulling me to him, and kissed my lips, my cheeks, my neck . . . “Don’t make me leave.”
Not a chance. I gulped to catch my breath. “If you leave, how will I strangle you?”
He hoisted me up onto his hips and I molded myself to him and kissed him on the mouth, stealing his breath. I didn’t want to let go. His hands slid over my body, caressing my neck, moving to my shoulders, then my breasts. His fingers brushed my nipples, sending shivers through me. I arched my body, grinding into him, faster and faster.
He made a noise, halfway between a growl and a purr. It triggered something deep, on a primeval female level, and I pressed tighter to him, running my hands over the cords of the muscles on his back, licking his neck, kissing him over and over, so he would make it again.
Curran swung me off the wall and carried me across the room, bumping into things. We stumbled onto the bed, tipped over at an angle. Curran pulled it down with one hand and we fell on it, his big body on top of mine. He dragged his mouth from my lips and kissed my neck, painting heat down my throat. My nipples ached. He pulled the gown down off my shoulder and sucked on my breast. Heat shot through me, making me hyper and impatient. I felt so empty and I wanted to be full of him. His scent and the heat coming off him made me drunk.
Curran caught my arms and pushed them above my head. His left hand closed on my wrists. He kissed me with a low hungry growl, teeth nipping at my skin. His hot hand slid up my thigh, sending me into shivers, and I heard my underwear rip. He tossed it aside, thrust his hand under my butt, lifting my hips, and bent down between my thighs.
Oh, my God.
I screamed.
He licked me, sucking, and all of me faded except for the hot knot of pleasure down below. Every stroke, every touch of his tongue, made it grow hotter and hotter, building the pressure, unbearable, wonderful, overpowering. Finally it burst through me in a searing jolt, from inside all the way to my skin. Curran released me. I cried out and grabbed at him. The heat dissolved into a cascade of waves.
“Condoms,” I breathed.
“Where?”
I pointed past him to where the bed used to be.
He strode off and I almost growled. I didn’t want him to let go of me. The world reeled. I was light-headed, as if drunk.
Curran reappeared with a condom.
He peeled open a packet. For an absurd second I thought the condom wouldn’t fit. Somehow he got it on, loomed over me, and kissed my neck. His teeth grazed my skin. He clenched me to him.
I swung my legs around his hips.
The huge muscles of his back bulged under my hands. He thrust, and I cried out again as he slid inside me, filling me, hot and hard. My body shuddered. He thrust again and again, building into a smooth rhythm, and I moved with him, rocking and trying not to pass out from bliss. Another orgasm exploded in me, tearing a scream from my mouth. Curran thrust deep. My body clenched around him. He growled and emptied himself, and we collapsed onto the blankets.
I was out of breath.
It had to be a hallucination, but I was so happy, I didn’t care.
He pulled me to him, and I put my head on his chest. His hand caressed my hair. His heartbeat was even and strong. We lay together as the sweat slowly cooled on our skin.
I rolled over and punched his ribs. He grunted.
“That’s for that damn phone call.”
He caught me into a hug, pinning my arms. “I think a mosquito bit me.”
I tried to pull away but he had me wrapped up.
Gray eyes looked into mine. “Why didn’t you come to the Keep?”
“Oh, I planned on it. Had my boots on, ready to go, when I remembered it would cause an interagency disaster. I was being responsible.”
He shook with laughter.
“What?”
“You? Responsible?”
“Shut up. How was I supposed to know that you let two little bears hurt you, Goldilocks?”
“Ah, yes, that mouth. I missed it.” He crushed me to him in a fierce hug. “All mine now.” My bones whined.
“Can’t . . . breathe,” I squeaked.
“Sorry,” he whispered, letting me go just enough to inhale.
We lay together for a while, until the cold air from the open window got to me and I shivered.
“You’re cold.” He rose and went to close the window.
My gown clung to my legs and bunched around my waist. I wriggled and slid it off.
“We’ve ruined your Princess Buttercup dress,” he said.
“I have the worst luck with that dress.” I raised myself on the elbow to kick it off and caught sight of my apartment. We’d wrecked the place. “At least the building is still standing.”
“I pride myself on restraint,” he said.
I laughed.
We picked the pillows up off the floor and found the blanket. He slid into bed next to me, and I wrapped myself around him, my head on his chest.
“What the freak said, it’s not like that,” Curran said.
“I know,” I told him and kissed the corner of his jaw.
“I’ve never forced anyone and I don’t lie to you.”
“I know.”
A long, sad whine rolled through the apartment.
Curran frowned. “Is that your mongrel?”
“He’s an attack poodle. I found him at an incident scene, washed him, shaved him, and now he guards the house and barfs on the carpet.”
“What’s his name?”
I stretched against him. “Grendel.”
“Odd name for a poodle.” He turned, taking full advantage of the fact that my breasts were squished against him.
“He came into a mead hall full of warriors in the middle of the night and scared them half to death.”
“Ahh. That explains it.” His hand caressed my shoulder, then my back. It was a deceptively casual caress, and it made me want to rub myself against him. He leaned in closer and kissed me. His teeth grazed my lower lip. He kissed my chin and began working his way down my neck. Mmmm . . .
“I read lions can have sex thirty times a day,” I murmured.
He raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, but it only lasts half a minute. Would you prefer the twenty-second special?”
I rolled my eyes. “What woman could pass on that offer?”
His hand cupped my breast. His fingers brushed my nipple and I shivered.
“I’m not all lion,” Curran said. “But I do bounce back quickly.”
“How quickly?”
He shrugged. “Two minutes.”
Oh, boy.
“I do slow down eventually,” he said. “After the first couple of hours or so.”
Couple of hours . . . I slid my hand down his chest to his stomach, feeling the hard ridges of muscle. I’d wanted to do that for so long. “It’s good that we have a whole box of condoms.”
He laughed low, like a satiated predatory cat, and swung me on top of him.