“Please,” she whispered, chilled again.
Those silvery eyes watched her, studied her, weighing something she couldn’t see. With a small sigh, he set the dark bottle of Dom back into the cooled sideboard.
“Come, let us see what secrets the night can reveal for us.”
He opened the door, climbed out, and held his hand out to her.
“Believe. Believe,” she muttered. She could do this, and if nothing else, she just might learn that she enjoyed sex again. God knew it had been forever since she’d enjoyed it, really. She’d discovered bad relationships had a way of turning her off the opposite sex. No one had interested her. At least no one had until the one waiting patiently with his hand extended to her.
With him, she knew the sex would blow her fucking mind. Yeah, a mind-blowing orgasm would be enough for her if she got nothing else out of this.
Skyler placed her hand in his and allowed him to pull her from the limo. They walked through the lobby, and she noticed several people turn their way. They were probably wondering what the hell a guy that looked like him was doing with her.
“They are wondering,” he said, leaning down, his breath hot against her ear, “what a beautiful woman like you is doing with a man like me.”
She shook her head. “Of course, that was just what I was thinking.”
“Somehow I don’t believe so. One time, yes, you would have agreed with me, but your words would not be laced with such sarcasm.”
The elevator ride up was silent, as his guard was still with them. Bishop, however, didn’t seem to care. His hand stayed at the base of her spine, slightly rubbing, both relaxing and arousing her. His other hand held hers, his fingers caressing the back of her hand.
She looked from Andre to Bishop. “Look, Bishop, I agreed to a night with you. No offense, Andre, but I’m not really into threesomes.”
Andre actually flushed and wisely kept his mouth shut.
The hand on her back stilled, the fingers rubbing the back of her hand squeezed. “Andre knows his life would be forfeit if he ever touched you.”
She blinked. The image of a man rose in her mind…
She hated him.
“My husband will kill you.”
He laughed, and it grated across her nerves as he flashed his knife at her. “He’ll be too late, though, won’t he?” He leaned in closer to her and grabbed her hair…
…The man was now strapped to a pole in a stone chamber. Blood poured from his body as he begged for mercy.
Her husband stood to the side, a whip with silver spikes on the end dangling from his hand. “No one harms what is mine. No one so much as threatens my wife. Do you honestly think I’ll grant you mercy?”
She shook off the thought.
Real or hallucination.
Real.
The elevator came to a halt. At her room, she unlocked the door, but Andre was the first into the room. Securing it, though what he was securing against, she had no idea.
The door shut with a final click behind the guard as Andre left, and Skyler stood in the middle of the room, wondering what she should do.
Bishop walked around her, giving her enough room, yet Skyler didn’t move. He crossed the room and opened the balcony doors, the wind swirling into the room, billowing the sheer curtains.
Mr. Silver Eyes watched her, watched her every movement. The fact he tracked her, even though she didn’t so much as step in any one direction, was not lost on her. She could feel his gaze, as real as his fingers brushing across her face, gently yet fiercely. She could feel those eyes caress down her, down to play just there along her collarbone. Her breasts grew heavy as he watched her, watched and waited. She grew damp between her thighs.
His gaze rose back to hers.
Before she blinked, she was wrapped in his arms, his mouth hot and insistent on hers.
She didn’t know what she was expecting.
Heat. So much heat blazed through her. Passion was hot, hot and thick and God how had she forgotten this? She kissed him, kissed him with so many emotions rioting through her. She was so hot, she was going to explode, and they had only kissed. It had to be his eyes. Yet he was cool against her. A soothing coolness to quench the heat roaring through her.
His lips nibbled at hers, tasted, teased until she could only think of him. His hands rubbed up and down her arms, over and over, soothing, yet arousing. Pinpricks of fire danced over her skin.
She wanted him.
Wanted him like she’d never wanted another being.
She wanted to know what she felt was real.
“Make love to me,” she whispered.
“I will,” he promised. He moved his mouth to her neck, where he licked a hot trail down the column of her throat to nuzzle where her shoulder met her neck. “If you think to back out again, I should warn you, I’m no saint.”
She shook her head and pulled back. Were his eyes glowing? She blinked. “No—no, I’m not backing out. I just…I-I just…”
“What?” he whispered, his hands again soothing her as they rubbed her arms.
“I want to just get it over with,” she blurted.
He was shocked. She could see it. He frowned, took a breath, and gave a slight shake of his head. He opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again. “Excuse me?”
Skyler licked her lips. “I just want the first time to be…” God, her body felt like it was on fire. It had been so long since she’d felt actual desire, she’d forgotten how brutal its bite could be. “I just want the first time to be over with so we can move on to more. I’m not making sense, I know. Please,” she said, pulling at her shirt.
“Slow down, we’ve all night.” He cupped her face, but she leaned up and kissed him.
Want. Need.
Have to have.
The desire beat inside her like an ancient drum, demanding to be followed.
“We’ll go slow later.” She lightly bit his lip. “Now I want fast. I want desire. It’s been so long, I’d forgotten what desire is, what it feels like to be desired.”
“Oh, I desire you,” he muttered.
“Lust, I want lust.” She licked his bottom lip, pulling it into her mouth. She leaned back from him and ripped the shirt from her, tossing it aside. Her lace bra felt too tight, her breasts heavy. She wanted it off.
His dark chuckle caressed the air between them. “Let me look at you, at the very least,” he finally said.
***
Bishop wondered what change had come over this woman. She’d been so wary and vulnerable, he’d wondered at her past, a past that was currently blank to him, but he knew it wouldn’t always be. He’d find out who had hurt her.
But for now…
“As my lady wishes,” he told her.
She stood before him in a pair of jeans that hinted at a tight ass. Her long-sleeved turtleneck had been flung across the room. Now her breasts teased him from the confines of a deep-aqua lace bra. Her skin almost glowed against the color.
He traced his finger along the edge of the lace. “I want to make love to you.” He followed his finger with his eyes, then kissed her. No more able to stop himself than stop the sun from rising.
She leaned into him, and he cupped her breast, weighed, squeezed. She gasped into his mouth.
“Make me forget,” she said between hot openmouthed kisses.
“Forget what?” he asked, licking a path up her neck.
“Everything but you.” She kissed him hotter, longer, moved her hips against him. “I’d forgotten what this feels like,” she whispered.
He kissed a trail to her ear, to swirl around her lobe, grinning as she shivered. He would remind her, make her believe and then he’d never let her go.
“What did you forget?”
“The heat of lust. I want you. I’m sooo…” He rolled a nipple between his fingers, and she gasped again. “It’s been so damned long,” she moaned.
Well, in that case. He wanted to know how long, but she turned the tables on him a
nd shoved him back until they were in the balcony doorway. She rubbed against him like a feline, her hands busy on his shirt. With a curse, she jerked, and he heard buttons ping against the metal railing of the balcony.
“Natiya. Skyler.”
“Bishop.” She hiked a leg up to his hip and tilted her hips to rub against him. “I want you. I want you now.”
“Patience.”
“We’ll play your games later,” she purred. She leaned up and kissed his neck, her tongue warm and wet against his cool skin. “Right now, I want it my way.”
She withdrew her leg from him and swirled her hands around his chest. He decided to just keep quiet and see what she would do. He was worried he’d have to temper his need with her. Her earlier wariness had been taken over. It was still there, he could feel it, rippling just beneath the surface, but he wasn’t about to stop this.
“Your way now,” he agreed, tangling his fingers in her hair as she flicked her tongue across his nipple pulling a groan from him. “My way the rest of the night.”
“You’ll get a turn,” she said, and he heard her, that strong-willed woman who had stolen his heart eons ago. Self-assured and demanding.
His perfect match.
His very heart.
She licked her way down his chest, her hands busy at the belt of his trousers. He grabbed her hands. She only look at him and tsked. “Trust me,” she whispered.
Slowly, he let go of her hands.
She pulled the belt from his slacks with a hiss, tossing it aside, then she slowly unbuttoned his fly, the zipper grazing against his erection. He was so damned hard, he could stake himself.
Her warm fingers danced over the head of his cock.
“Probably not.”
“Probably not, what?” she asked, her fingers evilly busy, her palm cupping him as she both pushed his slacks down and massaged him.
“Um… Probably not, stake myself and…”
Her soft laughter jerked him back, that teasing sound promising she was in control, that he’d given her the reins and she knew it. It heated the chilled blood in his veins.
She dropped to her knees in front of him.
He reached for her. “Skyler, don’t.”
She looked at him from beneath her lashes as her hands rested on his thighs. “But I want to.” With that, she leaned closer and licked him from base to tip.
“Ahhh…”
“Mmmm…”
Her tongued teased around the head of his cock, and he shuddered. Her hands were busy as well. One played at the base of his shaft, the other under, rolling his balls.
If he didn’t… He couldn’t….
“Natiya!”
She let go of him and licked her lips, the corner of her mouth. “You taste the same,” she whispered.
He jerked her to her feet, his hands quick on the fastening of her jeans. In seconds, she stood before him, bathed in moonlight, her skin all but glowing, pale against the dark lace of the bra and thong.
He ran his hands over her, slowly pulling her to him. “That was most unfair. I will repay you later.”
“But I didn’t get to finish,” she whispered as he lifted her against him. She wrapped her legs around his waist.
“I’ll let you finish me later.” He kissed her neck and noticed it wasn’t hot to him anymore. The woman had heated him so that his blood burned through his veins. “Now that I’ve found you, the first time I come, it’s not going to be down that pretty throat of yours,” he muttered.
He gripped her ass and played with the thin bit of material that separated her from him. It was wet. He ripped the lace away.
“The first time I go,” he said, leaning back, running his fingers down to her heat from behind. She was so wet, she coated his fingers. He ran them back and forth, along both sides of her slit, never in, never on that one little bundle of nerves he knew would send her over. He just played.
“Bishop,” she gritted out, shimmying on him, lifting with her torso and thighs. “Now. Please.”
He held her with ease. She had always been slight, but she was so light. He kissed her mouth. “Patience.”
“Fuck patience,” she growled, trembling.
“I’d rather fuck you,” he said and slid two fingers deep into her sheath.
“Ohhhhh,” she hummed and shivered. “I’m not going to last. It’s been too long.”
He pulled his fingers free and positioned the head of his dick at her entrance.
He shuddered as the heat of her beckoned him.
“There will be no going back after tonight.”
“Please,” she said, her hands gripping his hair, tugging. “Just…just…”
He rubbed himself against her, nudging just enough but never quite enough to really get inside.
Suddenly, she shifted, and slid down on him, enveloping him in scorching, liquid heat.
“Yes!” she moaned. “Oh yes.”
“Sarka!”
“Gregor! More. More.” The image, her voice from the past, slammed into the present. “Bishop. Yes! More!”
Everything inside her coalesced.
He wanted slow; he wanted more. He wanted it to fucking last.
“Later,” she panted. She arched against him and bowed. Her breasts bounced with each of his thrusts. He leaned in and ran his tongue down the slope of one breast, following the blue vein he could see just beneath the skin, felt the thump of blood against his lips. No. Not yet.
He traced the tendon in her neck, ran his teeth over it and heard her moan, that almost-mewl in the back of her throat. He pulled the skin into his mouth, sucked harder, pulled tighter, and her wet, hot pussy fisted around him.
He growled and buried himself into her, harder, faster.
“I know you. I know this body,” he said, moving her up and down his shaft, feeling her quickening in his arms. “By the time the night is over”—thrust—“you will”—one, slow glide—“know. Me.” He pulled out as slowly as he could.
She wiggled on him and cried out, “Please. Please, Gregor, please.”
He stilled.
Gregor. Not Bishop. She knew. She remembered, or parts of her remembered.
He chuckled and drove into her again. For a bit, he was in control, keeping his strokes slow and long, deep.
***
Another long, slow pull and thrust.
The man was killing her. She could feel him bumping her womb. He shifted and slid even deeper.
“Oh God.”
His dark laughter caressed her inside as surely as his cock did. “I’m not God.”
She fisted her hands in his hair.
“Enough,” she snarled, leaning in to kiss him.
She bit his lip, felt him suck in a breath. She tightened her legs. All those damned crunches and the running she did gave her some strength. He didn’t have it all. She wasn’t going to give him total control.
A coppery flavor danced on her tongue, tingled in her mouth.
“Nat—” he started, but she didn’t pay any attention to him.
She moved on him, felt his fingers tighten on her, then she pulled his lip into her mouth and sucked, sucked more until the coppery taste grew.
More.
More.
More.
She pulled harder, feeling him try to pull away from her. But she didn’t let him. His hands tightened on her butt to the point she knew there would be bruises, but it didn’t matter.
All that mattered was him. Her. Them. She wanted more.
“More,” she finally said.
He thrust hard and deep into her, his hands now controlling her movements.
She threw her head back and licked her lips, still tasting the sweet and spicy metallic taste on her tongue.
“You are…” He shifted so that on his inward slide, his cock pressed against her clit.
She screamed.
“…mine!”
His mouth landed on her neck, icy hot, then pleasure exploded within her.
Lights shatte
red behind her eyes and the room tilted as she flew apart into a million little pieces. She felt him hot and deep within her as every last nerve trembled, and shook with the force of her orgasm.
And you’re mine.
Chapter Four
Naked on the bed, Skyler opened her eyes to the darkened hotel room
Another dream?
She took a deep breath and turned her head.
Silver eyes watched her.
Not a dream.
He lay naked beside her, his torso sculpted and muscled, a warrior of old. She could see him wielding a sword, an ax, or bow, that strength aimed for battle and protection. Those same arms had held her earlier.
Earlier tonight as she’d had the most exceptional sex she’d ever had.
Ever.
“Did you bite me?” she asked, feeling the side of her neck.
Those eyes didn’t so much as shift. “You bit me first.”
On his lip. Her gaze dropped there, and she noticed he seemed more flushed. “Sorry,” she muttered, old doubts slithering to wrap around her. “I-I didn’t mean…”
He growled, and she fell silent.
His fingers glided over her arm, tickling slightly. His fingers flowed over her body, arousing yet soothing at the same time.
“We did it your way. Now it’s time to do it my way,” he whispered.
So it was.
“Tell me about him.”
“About who?”
Those silver eyes narrowed and held hers until she looked down at the hand that danced over her flesh. She shivered.
“Come here.” He pulled her closer to him, wrapping those arms around her. Arms that wielded weapons, that had killed, now held her, sheltering her.
As they always had. So many images and pictures to sort through, feelings that had been her own, yet someone else’s. She knew the first time they’d met on the bridge what it felt like to dance with him. What it was like to see him off to battle, to ride before him on a horse, to see him bloody and exhausted, or happy and filled with laughter.
She knew this man and the lives they had lived.
“Tell me about him. Just as you see images, I do as well. Not very clearly,” he said, then cleared his voice. “But enough to…to…”
He stopped, and his chest rose on a deep inhale.
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