Night was falling fast as it often did in the rain forest. She felt tired and muggy and her clothes felt uncomfortable against her skin. She could tell she was getting edgy, wanting to rake at Brandt. The best thing was to be alone, somewhere quiet and soothing.
6
Maggie woke unbearably hot, a soft cry of protest on her lips. She heard the echo of the haunting sound as she lay in the dark room with her heart beating too fast and her mind racing. The room was pitch black, yet her vision was remarkably good. Instead of reassuring her, the fact left her curling her fingers in the sheets. Her body had awakened her with urgent need, burning for relief so that she couldn't control her restless shifting.
It was only then that she thought to inhale. At once she went still, her stomach flipping and hot liquid heat surging through her body in instant invitation. She smelled fruit and the musky scent of a male. Her male. Brandt. She would know that masculine scent anywhere, a blend of outdoor and spice. She knew immediately he was as aroused as she was.
Maggie moistened her lips. "What are you doing here?"
"Looking at you." The words were soft, seductive. Truthful. His voice came from the chair positioned in the deepest corner opposite from her. "Watching over you."
She smiled in the dark. "Do I need watching over?" The thought of his eyes on her, intense and burning, was a powerful aphrodisiac. She moved along the sheets, trying to get comfortable when every nerve ending was alive and sizzling with awareness.
"You were moaning in your sleep. The sound tore me up." Brandt was sprawled out in the chair, his long legs stretched in front of him, his eyes devouring her. He had positioned the chair at the best advantage to watch her. She was so beautiful, so real, lying on his bed, all lush curves and gleaming skin. He ached to hold her. To lap his tongue along her throat and in the deep valley between her breasts, to swirl it in that intriguing little belly button he had such difficulty tearing his gaze from.
She belonged in the house. Here with him. The sight and sound of her, the scent of her completed him. He had to clear his throat of the unexpected lump clogging it so he could speak. "There's fruit on the tray there if you're thirsty or hungry. It was hot so I brought ice in the small insulated bucket."
Maggie sat up, pushed at the hair tumbling around her face. "You're always taking care of me, Brandt. Thank you, it was very thoughtful of you." She was thirsty and hot, her throat parched.
Brandt watched as she reached a slender, bare arm through the mosquito netting and lifted a piece of mango to her lips. She tilted her head slightly, exposing the long column of her throat, smooth and vulnerable, to him. Her lips parted slightly, and he caught a glimpse of her small teeth, her tongue, before she took the fruit into her mouth. His entire body clenched when she sucked the juice from her fingers. Her tongue darted out to catch the last drop of juice on her lower lip. His hand dropped to his thick, hard arousal pulsing with hunger and urgent demand. A single sound escaped him.
Maggie's head went up. "Do you want to share with me?"
Her voice sent jackhammers tripping in his head. He thought he would burst from his skin. "Look at me, Maggie," he commanded gruffly.
"You're in the shadows. I can't see you."
"Yes, you can. Use your eyesight. Look at me and tell me if you want me sharing with you." There was a moody, edgy feel to his voice, one that sent a shiver of awareness down her spine.
She pushed the mosquito netting aside and leaned forward, picking up another piece of mango as she did so. It took a moment to make him out, as still as he was in the chair. He seemed to become part of whatever his background was, a highly developed camouflage. Maggie could see him then, his powerful body draped on the chair. Entirely naked. Starkly aroused. He made no attempt to hide the pulsing staff thrusting upward from between his legs. He sat there, motionless, his brooding gaze on her, simply awaiting her decision.
Beneath the thin tank top her breasts ached tenderly. A trickle of hot liquid dampened the sheets. He stole her breath. Just looking at him, so hungry for her, robbed her of air. Deliberately she licked at the fruit, knowing his eyes were on her. She sucked the piece into her mouth, followed it with her fingers. Maggie took her time. There was no need to hurry; she could see his reaction as she sucked the juice from her hand. His nails dug into the arm of the chair and his body jerked.
She heard his swift intake of breath as she slowly caught the hem of her tank top and pulled it over her head to bare her breasts for him. "I definitely want you sharing with me, Brandt," she invited.
Some of the tension left his body but he remained across the room from her. Maggie's body tightened even more in anticipation. He liked looking at her--she could feel him drinking her in, devouring her with his heated gaze. Deliberately she leaned back on the bed to hook her drawstring bottoms with her thumbs. Carefully she slid the material down the curve of her hip, shimmying a little as she pushed the pajamas from her legs, discarding them beside the bed in an unwanted little heap.
Maggie reached for another piece of fruit, but he was there before her, picking up the orange pulp and bringing it to her mouth. He squeezed so the juice ran over his fingers and across his palm. Maggie took a bite, watched him pop the rest into his own mouth, and he offered her his hand. His knee wedged between her thighs, leaving her open, damp, pulsing for him.
Maggie caught his thick wrist and brought his fingers to her mouth. Her tongue slid over his skin, probing, teasing, exploring the contours of his hand while she lapped up the juice. All the time she was very aware of his body, silky hot, so close to hers.
The sensation of her tongue lapping so delicately over his fingers, tracing the crease in his palm, nearly made him explode. The tips of her breasts skimmed his arm, flashed fire along his skin. The junction between her legs, as he nudged closer, was fiery hot, damp, giving off the rich scent of her calling to him. The hammering in his head became a roar. He was thick and hard, but her tongue was increasing his measurements beyond anything he'd ever experienced. He couldn't imagine what would happen if her hot mouth pulled as strongly at another portion of his anatomy.
Brandt curled his hand around the nape of her neck and tilted her head back, fastening his mouth to hers. Heat exploded inside of her. Erupted into a hot molasses that spread through her body until she was burning up inside. His mouth fed on hers, his tongue dueling, tangling, stroking while his hands explored her satin-soft body. Maggie couldn't breathe, yet he was providing her air. She couldn't think, her mind in a chaos of pleasure, as he guided her through the whirling sensations, anchoring her to him with his commanding mouth and strong hands.
His hands cupped her breasts, his thumbs gliding over her nipples to bring them to two taut peaks. "I need a piece of mango," he whispered into her open mouth.
Brandt didn't stop kissing her, eating at her mouth while she bent to get the fruit. His mouth was hot and masculine and she was lost in his passion. He didn't take the mango from her. "Rub it on your nipples for me," he instructed, pulling back to look down at her full breasts cupped in his palms.
A small explosion went off in her deepest most feminine core, and moist heat seeped and beckoned to him at his provocative words. She could feel ripples of fire deep within her. His gaze was burning, possessive, his face hard and edgy with need. Maggie nibbled at the fruit so that juice ran down the corner of her mouth. Brandt leaned forward and caught the drops with his tongue, tracing her lower lip until she opened her mouth for him again. Her body clenched in reaction.
Watching his golden eyes grow hotter, almost liquid, she rubbed the mango over her nipples in slow, deliberate circles, then in a wider pattern over the curve of her breasts. Her breasts seemed to swell with the attention, aching for him. She held the fruit to his mouth, watched him suck it inside without breathing. Her lungs refused to cooperate. She pressed her body tightly against his knee, rubbing like a cat, seeking a measure of relief.
Brandt leaned in to kiss her again. "Thank you, honey." The three words were sa
id against her throat. Maggie closed her eyes as his teeth skimmed her sensitive skin. His lips traced a path to her breasts. Everything stilled inside of her. Waiting. Longing. Needing. He huffed out his breath, blowing warm air over her nipples. Her body wound even tighter.
His hair spilled across her arm, over her skin, brushing tiny flames over her. And then she felt his tongue. A tiny stroke. A light caress. She jumped. Her hips shifted restlessly. Maggie closed her eyes, savoring the pleasure as his tongue began to lick and lap slowly at the fruit juice. It was designed to drive her out of her mind and it did. She caught his head in her hands to hold him to her breast, thrusting into the hot, moist cavern.
Brandt closed his mouth around her offering, sucking strongly. She cried out, writhing against him, her body brushing against him, a thousand points of flames. Her arms dragged him closer. Maggie threw back her head, jutting more fully into his assault, while wave after wave of sensation rushed from her breasts to her belly in a fireball.
He bent her backward slowly until she was resting on the mattress, sprawled beneath him while his mouth pulled strongly and his hands claimed her body for his slow exploration. His strength was enormous--she felt it in the smooth ripple of muscle beneath his flesh. Unable to resist, Maggie traced her hands over him, each angle and plane, the ridge of his muscles, wanting to feel his thickness in her hands.
Brandt had other ideas. "I'm going to shatter if you do that," he admitted, his hands moving over her rib cage, her small waist to her belly. He loved the smooth expanse, the way her hipbones felt beneath his fingertips. Her curls were nearly as fiery as her core, bright and hot and waiting for him to dip his thumb through them.
She jumped, catching at his hands. Brandt ignored the restraint and pushed her thighs more fully open. "Let yourself go, Maggie," he said softly. "There's only the two of us. I was made for you. To love you, to bring you pleasure." His finger stroked over her damp core, swirled inside to find her hot and slick with need. "Am I bringing you pleasure, Maggie?"
"You know you are." So much so she couldn't think straight.
"Maggie, it's me you want, not just anyone," Brandt said, his golden eyes suddenly fierce. His finger plunged deep, so that she gasped, her hips bucking against his hand. "Say it, Maggie, say it's only me you want." He reveled in the feel of her muscles clenched around him, but he had to know it was for him. She had to give herself to him fully. Her body wasn't enough for him, it would never be enough. Maggie was his other half, a woman born to be his best friend, his companion, and a lifelong partner. Their sexual chemistry was a huge bonus, but it wasn't enough. She had to want him.
Her green eyes went wide as he pushed two fingers deep, stretching her, wanting her tight body to accept his easily. "Say it, Maggie, I need to hear you say it."
"Who did you think I wanted?" she gasped, nearly coming up off the bed. She was certain she wasn't going to live through wanting him.
"Say you'll stay with me, live with me, Maggie, learn to love me, here in the rain forest where you were born." He bent his head to her soft, taut belly, so firm and flat, his palm lying across her thatch of curls. As he lapped gently at her sexy belly button, he pushed his fingers deeper inside of her, closed his eyes as her body clamped down in response.
"I want to be here with you, Brandt. I longed to come here," she admitted. He was driving her out of her mind. "Please . . ." The word broke from her, a soft gasp of need. The waves of pleasure were so intense, Maggie had to struggle to stay grounded in reality. "What about protection, Brandt? You said I could get pregnant."
His teeth nipped her belly, his tongue swirled and caressed. "Right here, Maggie. Our child would grow here in your belly. My child." His teeth nipped again. "Would that be a terrible thing for us? To have a child together?"
There was seduction in his whisper, a temptation. Maggie had always craved a family and had been so lost without one. His whisper spoke of permanency, of commitment. She was so tempted with her body going up in flames. She couldn't think straight with wanting him. She didn't want him to stop but she needed time with him, to know him inside and out. There was the blaze of possession in his eyes, a ruthless stamp to his mouth and an insatiable sexual hunger in him when he looked at her, when he touched her. He was thoughtful, protective, intelligent, and had a sense of humor--but was that enough to really know him?
His fingers slid out of her and his teeth nipped a little lower, his soft laughter against her curls. "Our males stimulate the females into pregnancy, honey; you don't operate exactly like a human. I just wanted you to know, I wouldn't mind my child growing deep inside of you. I wouldn't mind your breasts full with milk." He smiled again, self-assured, no longer looking vulnerable, but intensely masculine. "I'm a cat, after all. But waiting until you know me, until you trust me, is essential. I'll be very careful, I promise." He lifted his head and looked at her, his golden eyes gleaming. "Don't move, baby, just lie still for me," he whispered, his hands parting her thighs. "The first night you were here, in my bed, I sat in that chair and dreamt of this. Of how you would taste." He lowered his head.
A scream ripped its way out of her throat. Her body bucked and convulsed. His tongue was relentless, stabbing, probing, sucking at her body, creating earthquakes and fireworks, shattering her into a million pieces. It went on and on, a storm of pure pleasure she was lost in, thrashing beneath him without inhibition, crying out for him, pleading with him to be deep inside of her where she needed him, where he belonged.
Brandt caught her hips in his hand, pulled her down the bed until her bottom was on the edge and he was tight against her. His erection was heavy and thick, the head so sensitive as he pushed into her, his body shuddered with pleasure. She was like a hot, slick fist, velvet soft but so tight he nearly lost all control. He forced himself to take his time, to fill her slowly, to push deeper and deeper into her body, wanting her to take every inch of him.
Maggie heard a keening sound, realized it was she. His body was invading her, a thick, hard fullness that brought a fiery friction of intense pleasure. She could feel her body adjusting, accommodating his size. And then he began to move and she was lost to everything but the conflagration he was building, feeding.
He moved slowly at first, watching her for signs of discomfort. When she lifted her hips to meet his, he began to lose himself in the perfect rhythm, hard and fast, plunging into her, driving deeper. The little noises escaping her throat drove him wild. "Take all of me, honey, all of me." It was a plea, a demand. She burned hotter and hotter, gripping him tightly.
He thrust hard, reveling in the way her body trembled with pleasure, the way her breasts jutted upward, her stomach rippled, her eyes glazed slightly as their bodies came together. The sight of her, the feel of her was his undoing. He wanted it to last forever, but he had wanted too long, too much, and his body had other ideas. He felt it start in his toes, rising higher and higher, his belly on fire, hips thrusting ferociously, almost brutally, his hands pinning her to him, while he erupted with jets of hot cream, filling her, triggering an intense orgasm so that her body gripped and tightened, milking his until he collapsed over her, spent and momentarily sated.
They were locked together, their hearts hammering loudly, their scents mingling, both so sensitive they were afraid to move. Brandt kissed the corner of her mouth, her chin, the tip of her breast. "Are you all right? I didn't hurt you, did I?" Reluctantly he rolled his weight off of her. His hands tangled in her hair possessively.
"You know you didn't hurt me," she assured him. She didn't think her body would ever belong to her again. "lt's hot in here. Did the temperature shoot up when we weren't looking?"
He laughed softly, deep in his throat. "We had other things on our minds." He sat up, reached past her. His naked body was flexible, a miracle of movement.
"What are you doing?" Maggie asked drowsily. She rolled over onto her stomach and lifted her head to watch him. There was something very intimate about the dark night enfolding them in its cloak, yet th
ey could see each other very clearly. She watched him lift the insulated bucket of ice to his mouth. Fascinated, she propped herself up on her elbows to watch his throat work as he swallowed the ice-cold liquid.
He was so sexy, the simple act took her breath away. Just drinking water. And how had he managed to get her to trust him the way she did? She trusted everything he said with an instinct, a knowledge, that he was telling her the truth. Or maybe she just wanted him, burned for him, and nothing else mattered.
Brandt looked at her over the bucket, his eyes so gold they glittered. A slow, wicked smile curved his mouth, revealed his teeth. Catlike. Wild. Primitive.
Maggie had no idea of the picture she presented, thoroughly loved, thoroughly sensual. The tips of her breasts swayed slightly as she moved, and the smooth rounded curves of her buttocks quivered, drawing his attention. She had a beautiful bottom. Already his body was stirring. He felt the familiar tightness.
Plucking a piece of ice from the bucket, he held it up. "I think I have a way to cool you off."
Her eyes widened. She looked at him warily. "I don't like that wicked look in your eyes."
He lifted her hair and rubbed the ice over her nape, felt her shiver. At once her nipples tightened. "Feels good, doesn't it?" He traced her spine in a slow deliberate caress, lazily watched the heat of her skin melt the small piece, leaving behind a trail of water. He bent forward to lap at her skin, catching the little beads, savoring the liquid.
Maggie let her head fall on the mattress and closed her eyes. Her body was completely relaxed, pliant under Brandt's hands. His heart swelled, knowing she was his, that she belonged in his home, in his bed. He would wake up and find her there. He could touch her body, make love to her when and where they wanted. And he wanted.
The next piece of ice made lazy patterns in the small of her back. The water melted and pooled into the two dimples there. Brandt sipped it as if it were the finest champagne. He found a larger piece to rub along the crease of her buttocks, so that the icy drips trickled to cool the heat at her core. To mingle with his cream and soothe any soreness. He bent his head to nip her gently on her left cheek. "Are you sore?" He pressed kisses into the two dimples, his hand finding her wet entrance.
The Awakening Page 7
