Then my life will get back to normal.”
“You know I can’t do that,” Kristor said.
“I don’t really care what you can or cannot do. I just want you out of here.” She jumped to her feet and strode to the door, flinging it open.
He sauntered toward her, but didn’t walk out. His presence filled the room. The throbbing spread to the rest of her body, but changed and became a burning need that she found hard to suppress.
“We’re meant to be together. You enjoyed my kiss.” He brushed her hair behind her ear, caressing her cheek.
Her body leapt to awareness. Months had passed since she’d felt a need as strong as this one.
“I want to know you intimately,” he leaned in and whispered close to her ear.
“Why?” Her words trembled.
“Does there have to be a reason for two people to enjoy each other’s bodies?”
“But you’re an alien.”
“As are you.” He lightly massaged her shoulders.
“Only part.” She should tell him to stop, but when she opened her mouth, he covered her words with a gentle kiss. She tasted him as his tongue stroked across hers. He wasn’t demanding, not forcing her, but giving her the choice to push away or pull closer.
Butterflies fluttered in her stomach, but quickly changed to a deep aching need when he slid his hands over her buttocks and pulled her against him. His need was evident.
What? Was she crazy? She didn’t know this man. Hell, she apparently didn’t know herself. But who could she talk to? Who, other than him, would believe her when she told them she’d shifted into a friggin’ frog? Kristor was her only connection to who she really was.
Maybe she just wanted to relieve the tension building inside her. And maybe that’s why she didn’t push him away.
She shoved on the door, closing it.
He ended the kiss and moved back, studying her face. Then he reached for the hem of her shirt. It was almost as if she were having an out-of-body experience as she raised her arms above her head. He tugged the top off, then let it fall to the floor.
A shiver ran the length of her body. He didn’t move, only looked. Then he kissed one shoulder, running his fingers under her bra, sliding each strap down her shoulder before reaching behind her and unfastening the clasps. At the last second, she clutched her bra to her breasts, not letting him bare them.
He raised an eyebrow.
What was it about that one look? It told her that she was denying them both. And that wasn’t what she wanted to do. She was tired of the lies she’d been telling herself. She wanted him, more than she’d ever wanted a man.
She let go. Her bra fell to the floor. She raised her chin, but knew her bravado wouldn’t last long. Why hadn’t she suggested wine first? Like a whole bottle. She’d never been this nervous before.
He pulled his T-shirt over his head and dropped it on the floor. The man really did have some serious muscles. She tentatively reached out and glided her hand across his chest. It was firm to her touch. Sinewy muscle, hard ridges. Battle scars. Not perfect, but she wasn’t seeking perfection. She leaned forward, her lips pressing against one jagged scar.
Kristor sucked in a breath, but didn’t say anything. It was as if he didn’t want to break the spell any more than she did.
How far would he let her go? She reached down and unfastened his jeans, then slid the zipper down. She met his gaze. His eyes were glazed with desire. She wondered how difficult it was for him as he held the warrior inside at bay.
She pushed his jeans over his hips, down his thighs. He kicked out of them. She hesitated, took a deep breath, and reached for the waistband of his briefs. The material molded to his erection. He was large. Her gaze fastened on the bulge. She licked her lips.
He stayed her hand before she could tug them down. Disappointment swept over her—until he ran his knuckles across her stomach, stopping when he was at the waistband of her jeans. He tugged the button through the hole, slid the zipper down. Her jeans followed. Slowly, deliberately, as if he would extend the mounting pressure growing inside them both, he knelt in front of her, and tugged them over her hips.
A flood of heat rushed to her face. He was kneeling right in front of her. He’d see her…all of her. She quickly brought her hands in front and covered herself. “I’m not sure I’m ready for this.”
He came to his feet. “Not ready for what?” He caressed her breast, drawing on the nipple, then lightly pinching it between his thumb and finger.
She moaned, leaning toward him. “This is only sex,” she said. “Make sure you understand that this doesn’t mean I’ll be leaving with you. I like my life here. And—”
He lowered his mouth to hers, effectively stopping all conversation. Not that she minded. His hands left trails of fire as he caressed her back, cupped her buttocks, and brought her against him. His erection nudged her mound. The ache inside her made her weak with desire. Her legs trembled so hard that she could barely hold herself up. She needn’t have worried. Kristor scooped her up in his arms.
All those muscles. This was nice. No one had ever carried her to bed before making love. She thought it only happened in the movies. He laid her on the bed, then joined her.
“Only sex,” she repeated.
“Yes,” he agreed, but she thought he was only partially paying attention. He seemed much more interested in running his hands over her breasts, down her abdomen, and lightly scraping through her curls.
She automatically raised her hips, wanting more. He didn’t disappoint as he tugged on the fleshy part of her sex, then slid farther down, dipping one finger inside. She cried out. He immediately backed off. She stopped his hand from moving farther away from her heat.
“No, I like that.”
“Most Symtarian women are passionate.”
“I’m not…” She bit her bottom lip. “I’m not a…a…” Hell, she couldn’t think straight. Not that she really wanted to think right now. No, she only wanted to feel. And what he was doing felt so damn good.
He nibbled her neck, and swirled his tongue inside her ear. “A pure blood?”
“Yeah, that’s it.”
“But you are still very passionate.”
“I haven’t had sex in a while.” She closed her eyes, moving her body to the rhythm of his finger.
“You’re damp with need.”
She bit back a groan, but couldn’t stop it when his mouth moved to her breast and sucked on her nipple, rolling it around on his tongue. She wanted to touch him, to explore all those delicious muscles, but she was quickly losing her ability to think, to do anything except lose herself in the exquisite pleasure of what he was doing to her body.
She was vaguely aware when he moved over her. “Protection,” she muttered.
“I’ve taken care of it,” he said.
She’d been so lost in the sensations flooding her body, she hadn’t noticed.
He entered her. Filled her. Then stroked her.
Slowly, he moved his body. She rose to meet him. Cried out for more. He increased the intensity. In and out. Deeper. A little harder.
She wrapped her legs around him, drawing him in tighter. Clenched her inner muscles. He sucked in a breath.
In and out.
He dragged a pillow over and placed it under her.
Deeper still.
Heat washed over her.
In and out.
Faster.
Plunging deeper.
