More Than A Vow: Vows of Revenge / After Their Vows / Vows Made in Secret. Michelle ReidЧитать онлайн книгу.
she thought. It was the only word in her head. Her body was in a state of undeniable demand. Her entire being yearned for the feel of Roman’s hard muscles and his weight and yes. The feel of his aroused flesh rubbed against hers, parting and arousing, teasing and dampening. Seeking.
Her arms cradled his head, her mouth pulled at his parted lips, licking and panting as he breathed raggedly along with her, breaths mingling, their gasps and growls carnal and unfettered.
With a blind, startled shake of his head, he drew back. “I didn’t—”
“Don’t stop,” she cried, arching to offer herself where she could feel him ready to penetrate, needing him inside her. She was so aroused she would die, actually die, if he didn’t keep pressing right there. “Please, Roman, please.”
He groaned and the insistent pressure increased. Her tight flesh gave way, parting and accepting.
Oh. It had been a long time and this was... Burning. Intimate. So much more like she’d always wanted it to be. His length pushed in, filling her, making her hold still to savor, wanting all of him...
With a growl, he opened his mouth against her neck, drawing a love bite up to the surface of her skin. She practically levitated off the bed, pressing up into him, surrendering utterly to the experience. His tongue licked against the artery pounding in her throat and he shuddered as his body came flush against hers, pressing tight, possessing her to the limits of their joined flesh.
She closed her trembling legs around his hips, astonished, beyond aroused. Mindless. She was pure sensation, her only dim thought that she was happy it was like this. Pure, abject passion infused the moment.
He lifted his head and looked at her, eyes fogged with passion. Something clouded his gaze, as if he was becoming aware of how fast they’d arrived at this point.
She didn’t care about that. It was supposed to be like this. Animalistic, but with both of them caught up in overwhelming desire. She licked her lips.
His gaze followed the signal and his head bent.
They were lost again. Kissing deeply. Her body eased its tight grasp on his, inviting him to move. He did, muscles trembling, and his excitement fueled hers. She stroked his back and rubbed her thighs against his sides and lifted her hips to accept the return of his, seeking pressure where she ached for it most.
He made a feral noise and moved with more deliberation, making her gasp at the sensation of friction and something that strummed the very heart of her. It was the most instantly addictive feeling she’d ever encountered. She made a noise of female ardor and encouraged him with primal arches and a grind of her hips. The more he moved, the more reality fell away. All she cared about was the next thrust and the next.
More. Now. Please. Please.
They writhed in ecstatic struggle, fighting to hold on to the moment, lascivious sounds filling the air as the intensity grew, as he moved faster, as climax approached with merciless demand.
The paroxysm struck her suddenly, holding her in a hard grip, mouth open in a silent scream. Sensations detonated then reverberated through her, rocking her to her core.
Roman’s arms locked straight, a ragged cry of triumph tearing through the air as his hips sealed to hers and pulses of heat met her clasping orgasm, strengthening and prolonging her pleasure.
They were wholly attuned, joined in body and involvement. It wasn’t happening to him or her. They were the experience.
With broken cries, they collapsed into weakness, sweaty and wrung out, panting and shaking. Tears of deep emotion leaked to dampen Melodie’s lashes as she kept her eyes clenched shut, so shaken by the wildness of her actions she could barely face what they’d just done.
That had been...
She didn’t have words.
* * *
That was—
Roman lifted off Melodie and pushed clumsily to his feet, arms weak, knees shaking. The friction of leaving her was a pleasurable stroke that turned to the chill of loss. He had to turn away to keep from falling under her spell all over again.
No condom. He turned away, aghast at his carelessness. He never forgot, never lost his head. He liked sex, but he was always, always aware of protection.
He’d started to pull away as he felt her naked flesh against his pulsing erection. She was the one who’d yanked him back into the act, begging. Offering herself with such abandon he’d discarded all cares but getting inside her.
He shot a wary look her way, genuinely shaken by the way she’d slithered past his shields.
She’d rolled onto her side, but was still diagonal on the bed, knees together now, shirt pulled low to hide her nudity, head pillowed on her curled arm. Her big eyes blinked in sensual shock as she offered him a tentative smile.
“I’ve always wanted to be swept away by passion.” Her languid tone was a caress and an invitation, as alluring as a drug to an addict. She made him want to join her, to lock out the world and let her become everything he needed.
Which was probably what she had planned. First, dull his senses with the kind of sex that reset the bar. Then lower his guard so he’d let her wander his home so she could, what? Dig through his files while he slept?
He had not meant to touch her. He hated himself for being weak enough to do so. He’d been on the verge of coming downstairs to spell out exactly how he was taking his revenge, but she’d come to him and coldcocked him with seduction.
A mix of emotions rose in him: contempt for both of them, fury, disappointment, a kind of defeat that took him back to a time when he’d been completely powerless... He hated feeling these things, especially all at once. With ruthless discipline, he shut himself down, refusing to be drawn by her sultry afterglow. Women were as vulnerable after sex as they were during, but he closed himself off to that, too.
Melodie must have read something in his look. Her lashes quivered and one hand tugged her shirttail down a little more. “Maybe it’s always like that for you,” she murmured self-consciously.
“It is,” he lied flatly, unable to stomach how he’d let lust, for her, sweep him completely beyond himself. “I know who you are,” he continued, before her flinch of defenselessness could have an impact on him. He strode across to gather his pants and stamped his feet into them, straightening to tie them into place with jerky movements. “You’re wasting your time.”
“What...? What do you mean?” She tucked her legs to the side as she sat up, brow furrowing.
“Charmaine Parnell-Gautier,” he pronounced without inflection, as though they were exchanging information over a boardroom table. “I know your father and brother sent you here. Whatever you thought you could do to me isn’t working. I’m three steps ahead of all of you.” He picked up her discarded bikini bottom and brought it to the bed, placing it near her knee. “It’s time for you to leave.”
Her plump lips parted and her skin went so pale he thought she might faint. His heart lurched with alarm.
But she gathered herself quickly, drew a shaken breath and straightened her spine, shoulders going back.
“You think my father sent me here?”
“I know he did.”
“You’re wrong.” Tilting her head at him in an admonishing stare, she looked him right in the eye. “My birth certificate says Garner Gautier is my father, but I don’t have anything to do with him.” Bitterness flashed in her expression. “I’m not surprised you might have a bone to pick with him. He buys friends and makes enemies, but whatever he’s done to you has nothing to do with me.”
Wow, he thought distantly. She certainly knew how to shuffle her hand and play a new card. He was supposed to be reassured, he imagined, by her pretending they had a common adversary.