She didn’t move.
“Please. Remember that word? You used it on me not more than five minutes ago.”
Her head hung forward for a second. Then she sighed and turned back to face him.
He shook his head when he saw her expression. It was sadness, the sweetest, sexiest thing he’d ever seen, and he wanted to flash to her and cover her mouth, pull moans from her sighs of frustration.
“I never stopped wanting you,” he said, knowing that the words coming out of his mouth were surely damning him. But who the bloody hell cared now? Either way, he didn’t stand much of a chance in the happy- endings department. “Never stopped thinking about you. Cursing you. You tell me what we’re supposed to do now. I did my very best to keep this from happening.”
Her hands went to her belly.
“There’s a war raging inside me, love. Wanting you, wanting to destroy him. I can’t let go of either one and survive.”
Silence filled the space between them as they just stared at each other. Syn was sure she was going to turn around at any moment and go back to her room. She should. She really should. But then her gaze flickered past him and narrowed.
“What’s that?” she asked.
He glanced over his shoulder, saw what she was talking about, and laughed softly. “Further proof that I’m losing the battle.”
Completely captivated, she left the safety of the far wall and walked past him into the living room. He followed her with his eyes, watched as she ran her hand over the top of the small piano.
“Where did you get it?” Her head came up and her eyes locked with his.
“I saw it in a shop window.”
“You put it next to yours.”
“Of course I did.”
Tears filled her eyes and she ran at him, threw herself into his arms. “You’re killing me.”
He pulled her against him. “Right back at you, love.”
Her hands were on his chest, her belly was tucked into him the way he liked it, and her eyes were searching his own. “Take me to bed.”
He grinned. “Fuck you?”
She grinned back. “Please.”
His nostrils flared, and he shook his head ever so slightly. “I don’t know if I have the strength to keep my fangs to myself, love.”
She sighed with what sounded impossibly like relief. “Good.” Then she grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the bedroom.
18
Syn’s bedroom.
That’s where she’d led them.
The last time she was in here, he was wearing only a towel. Now she wanted him in nothing at all.
The room was relatively dark when they entered. Except for one thing. One amazing thing. A round five-by- five skylight cut into the ceiling directly above the bed, the moon fairly overshadowed by the clouds that were raining down snowflakes, the tiny bits of erratic light scattering on the plush gray quilt. How had she not noticed that skylight before? Had it been daylight? Had it been closed, sealed up to keep the sun at bay?
Syn came up behind her and kissed her neck. She smiled, realizing he’d already removed his shirt, and turned in his arms. Gods, he was beautiful. And terrifying. And breath-stealingly sexy. She ran her hands up his hard stomach to his chest, her fingers vibrating with the sensation of warm male skin. They were going to do this. Again. Syn inside her. Taking her, again.
Syn reached for the edges of her tank and slowly lifted the silk and lace over her head. At first, he just stared. His eyes flashing hunger as they roamed over her belly and breasts.
“So beautiful,” he said. “Bloody hell,
And then he filled his hands with her, feeling the weight of her heavy breasts, squeezing, then releasing her to tug gently on her nipples.
Instantly heat and moisture pooled in Petra’s sex. She drew air through her teeth, and her face became a mask of erotic desire. In her mind she imagined Syn leading her to the bed, pulling down her pajama bottoms, and sinking into the already soaking-wet heat of her cunt.
But instead, he made her nearly come where she stood.
His head dropped and, squeezing one sensitive mound, he took her hard pink nipple into his mouth. Petra cried out as he suckled. Never in her life had she felt anything so delicious. Cream leaked from her pussy and dripped down her thighs. His tongue continued to lap at her, but he brought his thumb up to meet it, and the two took turns. Tongue. Lash. Thumb. Flick.
Groaning, mumbling incoherently, Petra brought her hand to the waistband of her pajama bottoms and was all set to send it down and through her slit. Gods, he was making her insane. She had to. Had to touch herself. She couldn’t wait.
But Synjon growled against her wet nipple. “No.”
She whimpered. “Syn . . .”
“No,” he said again, more firmly. “You will wait, love.”
As he continued to drive her to madness with his tongue and fingers, she fumbled with the metal that kept his jeans resting on his sexy hipbones. It didn’t take her long to get in, get down, find him. After all, he had already busted out of his boxers and was so rock hard that he pressed against the skin of his belly.
Petra wrapped her hand around his thick length and squeezed. Syn’s teeth came down on her nipple, and they both sucked in air.
“Oh, bloody hell, yes,” he muttered, switching to her other breast and nuzzling her nipple with his nose.
Petra loved the feeling of him in her hand as she stroked him. So hard, so smooth except for the pulsing veins beneath his skin. Her mouth watered, but not for his blood this time, and she released his cock and tried to maneuver him onto the bed. It was like trying to move a brick wall. He was completely absorbed by her top half.
That is, until she whispered, “I want you in my mouth, Syn. I want to taste you.”
His head came up, and his eyes went hooded and dark. “Crikey,
She grinned. “Lie down.”
“Fuck me. Anything you say, love.” He tore off his jeans and rocketed onto the bed before she even made it to the edge of the mattress.
Her gaze moved over him. Feet, to powerful thighs, to thick, blood-heavy cock, to waves of muscle, to a chest that begged for a female’s sweaty cheek. Petra licked her lips. He was lying on his back, his hands behind his head. He looked like the ultimate bad boy. He looked exactly like what she wanted.
She eased her silk pajama bottoms down to her ankles, then stepped out of them. She knew he was watching her and she liked it that he was. She felt no shame in her body, in the swell of her belly. They’d created this, together, and it felt so right to be with him.
The glow from the skylight above, the dancing snowflakes, was a beautiful, moving spotlight on his body, and as Petra climbed onto the bed and cat-crawled toward him, she saw the glistening wetness of precome on the hard planes of his abdomen. Her mouth watered in anticipation. Just the thought of him inside her mouth,
