Bunching his shirt in her fingers, she tugged it up, asking him to let her touch as he did. He complied by sitting up. A roll of his shoulders helped her pull the Henley off, giving her the most amazing view of smooth bronzed skin and corded muscles. She glided her fingertips down his chest, fascinated by the way his skin jumped beneath her nails. He closed his eyes, his breath as unsteady as hers, and that amazing mouth curved with a faint smile.
Her heart fluttered at the sight, and the pressure between her thighs increased. As if he understood her torment, his hand drifted to her hip, slid behind to lift her into him. The squeeze of his fingers against her inner thigh made her world tilt. The feel of his erection, nestled so close to the most intimate part of her body, provoked her into a low moan. She closed her eyes, unable to tolerate the dizziness holding his gaze created.
His mouth returned to her breast, but he didn’t suckle as she’d anticipated. Instead, Farran flicked the tip of his tongue around her nipple, then trailed a searing path down the valley of her breasts and lower. Lower still, until his teeth raked across her belly. While he scattered light kisses over her goose-pimpled skin, his fingers toyed with the button on her jeans. When it popped open, he flattened his palm against her abdomen and worked the zipper free.
Knowing she was about to cross a line she shouldn’t, Noelle shimmied with his tug and helped him ease her jeans down her thighs. He took his time removing them, showering every exposed inch of skin with the feathery caress of his mouth. Calloused palms scraped pleasantly down her calf, strong hands held her ankle as he lifted her leg to pull the garment free.
What happened next shook her to the core. Warm, moist heat washed over her aching flesh as Farran nuzzled at her panties. His breath teased. The tickle of his fingers against the sensitive skin at the juncture of her thigh made her squirm. He kissed her there, a lingering brush of lips that brought her body off the bed and her hands to his hair. Her womb quivered in response, and instinct demanded she part her legs.
When she did, his fingers dipped beneath the satin to pull the loose elastic aside. His mouth fluttered through her feminine curls, the heavy rasp of his breath full of erotic promise. At the touch of his tongue, Noelle sucked in a sharp breath and curled her nails against his scalp.
Slow, provocative strokes brought her hips into a dance that matched his languorous rhythm. Feeling swelled to impossible heights, driving her to an unimaginable plateau. She knew the only way to make the fever that consumed her go away, and yet she couldn’t define exactly what she needed. All she understood was Farran’s mouth held magic, and if he stopped, she’d shatter to pieces.
As he suckled at her sensitive nub, he slid a thick finger inside her opening. At the pleasant invasion, Noelle cried out. She clamped her thighs together, and clung to the fistfuls of his hair. He eased his hand away, lifted his head. Entering her once more, he rasped, “Give your body freedom, Noelle.”
She didn’t know what he meant, but the push of his finger, the way she felt him deep inside, made her tremble. When his thumb pressed against her sensitive center of nerves, a tidal wave of heat flowed through her body. Another thrust, another rub, and all the engulfing feeling crashed together. Release took her, dropped her off that high plateau without so much as a parachute. She plummeted into an abyss of sensation and cried out with ecstasy.
“Aye, angel. Aye,” Farran whispered. “Like so.”
The motion of his hand slowed in time with her body. As the last of her climax pulsed through her, he withdrew completely and scattered light kisses across her navel. Sense slowly returned, along with her embarrassment. Here she lay, completely exposed in the bright light, and had just screamed. Damn, what had she done? How had she managed to forget herself like that? Heat infused her cheeks. She turned her head to the side, unable to look at Farran.
The rustle of his clothes told her he undressed. His body covered hers, his erection hard against her swollen flesh. On a thick swallow, she grasped for the bliss she’d felt moments earlier. His mouth found hers, soft and tender. But all Noelle wanted to do was cry.
CHAPTER 25
Every bit of fierce, aching need ground to a standstill as Noelle’s mouth refused to respond. Farran pulled his thoughts away from the intoxicating satin of her skin and the throbbing of his body. Something had changed. Drastically. And he had been so blinded by her pleasure, he had failed to observe when. Or why.
He let his lips linger, hoping beyond all measure her distance was only temporary. That she would come alive once more and take him to the sweet release he yearned for. Though she smoothed a hand across his lower back, naught else offered encouragement. Her lips touched tentatively, as if she wished she were far from here. Far from him.
Allowing his weight to sink into her, he framed her face between his hands. “What troubles you?” he whispered.
Light reflected off the welling moisture in her eyes, and Farran cringed inwardly. She could not despise him, could she? Moments ago, she had let go, gave in to feeling in a way he had never experienced with a woman. Brighid had but laid there. The others … he had not bothered to even pay attention to their false words and encouraging hands.
Noelle let out a shuddering breath. “I don’t know.”
He exhaled heavily and touched his forehead to hers, surrendering to the reality the pleasure he craved would be denied. ’Twould take little to coax her back into his arms, to return her to the ecstasy he knew she had felt. Yet he refused to indulge in selfish pleasure. He wanted a willing partner, not one who responded because her body had little choice.
Rolling onto his back, he tossed an arm on the pillow above his head and welcomed the cool air against his overheated flesh. His cock throbbed in protest, his body screamed. But Farran ignored the ache and attempted to train his thoughts away from how close he had come. He should be relieved she stopped him, for continuing down this path would only bind him where he could not stay. And yet, the longer he lay in the stillness, her thigh so near they almost touched, the more impossible it became to deny he would cut off his sword arm to lose himself in her.
Noelle rolled onto her side and flatted a hand over his drumming heart. “I’m sorry.”
He wanted to speak. To tell her he understood, that she need not feel guilt over her refusal. His throat, however, refused the order. So overwhelmed by the enormity of sensation that flowed in his veins, he could do little more than swallow. God’s blood, if she would but give him the slightest hint of welcome, he would roll her onto her back in a heartbeat and bury himself to the hilt inside her slick warmth.
Her hand spanned across his chest, drifted lower to his belly. As tempting as a siren, and as innocent as a babe, her touch burned. Beneath the power of her fingers, his cock bobbed against his abdomen. He caught her by the wrist, ceasing the wayward path of her fingers. “Do not touch me, Noelle.” Hearing the harshness of his bark, he softened his command with a whispered, “Not yet.”
She jerked her arm away, as if he had scalded her. But Farran refused to let her retreat into the place in her mind where she believed he found her lacking. He held fast to her wrist and compromised by settling her palm back upon his chest. When she stopped fighting, he threaded his fingers through hers, and covered the back of her much smaller hand.
They lay together in silence, their breathing matched. Yet naught would cool the fire that burned in Farran’s blood. He could not tolerate another moment of this damning nearness. Sitting abruptly, he rolled off the bed and stalked toward the bath. If he could retreat into the bowels of the temple, and know she would not take offense, he would. As such, he had little choice but the meager flow of water.
He cranked the faucets on, adjusted the temperature to lukewarm. Stepping beneath the spray, he purged his frustration with a hiss. What had that little slip of a virgin done to him? ’Twas unlike him to be unable to shut off desire. Yet one innocent scientist wheedled so far under his skin he had lost control of himself. Even now, well removed from her presence, her
perfume lingered in his nose. Her silken skin swathed his calloused hands. And the deeply etched scar upon his belly tingled from her naive caress.
He should have expected she would turn away from him. That she would find her pleasure and care little for his needs. Her name was woman, was it not?
As the thought crept into his mind, he groaned against the falseness of it. Noelle was no temptress. She may have brought him to this state of intolerable arousal, but she did not coerce him to her bed.
A vision of the way she arched beneath him rose to argue what he knew was fact. On another haggard hiss, he took himself into his hand, intent on relieving his ache the only way he could. Yet as he wrapped his fingers around his swollen length and pumped, disappointment hollowed out his gut. Biting back an oath, he snatched his hand away. ’Twould serve no point. ’Twas not release he craved, but something else.
Something he refused to name.
* * *
Noelle pulled on her T-shirt and crossed her arms over her chest. Cross-legged, she sat on the bed, staring at the bathroom and the sounds within, certain she’d just become the biggest fool to ever walk the earth. Her first orgasm with a man—she was supposed to be elated. The numbness in her limbs, the weighty feel of satisfaction, should have left her giddy. Instead, she’d behaved like an idiot and spoiled everything.
Damn it, why couldn’t she get her act together? She’d waited a lifetime for what Farran offered. He’d even confessed he found her attractive. Hell, he’d even smiled. That alone should have given her confidence enough to shed her insecurities.
On an inward mutter, she pushed a hand through her hair. If only she could undo the damage and convince him back into bed. She’d tried, but he’d clammed up as tight as she had. Now he’d retreated completely, and judging from the stiffness of his shoulders, she’d made him angry once again.
She flopped back into the pillows, curled on her side, and willed him to walk out of the bathroom wearing that faint smile. As she waited, she took stock of the new sensations coursing through her veins. Already her muscles in her legs twitched with weakness. She must have strained something—no surprise really, given the abandon she’d shown. Her lips stung with the chafe of being kissed too thoroughly, but despite the uncomfortable tingle, she couldn’t say they hurt. If anything, the reminder stirred her pride. Farran—gorgeous, out-of-her-league, sexy Farran—had kissed her. This time he made no attempt to hide the fact he’d wanted to.
No single part of her body had forgotten what they’d shared. Her breasts felt heavier, her head lighter, and a strange warmth enveloped her despite the cool air that seeped through old windows and chilled the room. The more she replayed the memory of their loving, the more she came to terms with her behavior. And what had seemed so embarrassing became intriguing.
Did all women forget how to think? Did all men show the tenderness Farran gave her? Better yet, did men share this same feeling of utter exhaustion blended with an underlying thrum of excitement?
The precious smile Farran had given her flashed in her mind with the clarity of a candid snapshot. He’d come close to a grin before, almost found a smirk once or twice, but he’d never shown the slightest hint of happiness. Not as he had when she traced the firm planes of muscle along his chest.
The tingles started again, stirred by the thought she was responsible for that rare treat. Her IQ might be near genius, but she didn’t need extreme intelligence to understand how special that little glimpse of emotion was. She’d made him happy. Somehow, someway, she’d provoked what he otherwise refused to show. If she hadn’t turned into an ice cube, he might be here now, lying beside her, giving her more. They’d spend the night together, wake in each other’s arms. And tomorrow morning, there’d be none of his harsh words to shatter her perfect fantasy.
If only she could take her fumble back.
A shadow fell across the threshold to the bathroom. Noelle scrunched down into the bedding. Her heart tripped into her throat, and she waited, anticipating the worst. Preparing for more of Farran’s biting words and angry scowls.
He walked through the archway as naked as the day he’d been born. Long hair dripped over his shoulders, clung to the thick cording of his neck. Little rivulets of water trickled down one firm bicep, dampened the ridges of his chest. Perfect masculine splendor.
She felt the predatory weight of his gaze, but Noelle couldn’t tear her stare away from his body. She took him in, every fantastic inch of bronzed skin and tight, toned muscle. Her eyes dipped lower to trace the stark white scar across his abdomen. Again, her heart rolled over, twisted by the thought someone could be sadistic enough to cause him such pain. She blinked long and slow, banishing the vision of torture that always came with the sight of his injury.
When she looked again, she sucked in a sharp breath. Still swollen with arousal, his cock jutted forth from a nest of dark hair. Under her perusal, the smooth tip bobbed against his abdomen. Shocked to the core, she hastily averted her eyes. But curiosity got the better of her, and as Farran moved toward his pile of clothes, she let her gaze slip sideways. Thickly veined, it stood proud and erect, sure evidence she hadn’t imagined the feel of that insistent length against her core moments before he’d rolled off her.
Her innocence came rushing back to her, along with the questions. Before she could catch her tongue and stop the silly words, she asked, “What’s it feel like for you?”
Bent over, about to snatch up his shirt, Farran came to a halt. His fingers didn’t so much as twitch as he asked, “What?”
A blush crept in, heating her face and neck. Had she asked that? Damn. Well, she’d stuck her foot in her mouth far enough—might as well discover the answer. “Orgasm. What’s it feel like?”
Slowly he stood and turned around. For a moment, she thought he hadn’t heard. He simply stared, blinking as if he tried to make sense of the question. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it. The light in his eyes sharpened, and he watched her like a lion stalking the gazelle it intended to feast upon. His throat worked as he swallowed, and at his thigh, one hand clenched into a tight fist. “Were you to bring me there, there would be no words.”
He’d heard her all right. At his raspy answer, the heat returned to Noelle’s womb. It clenched tight, wound into an uncomfortable knot.
“Damsel, you stare.”
His observation deepened her blush. She fumbled for her tongue, searched for an excuse, and settled on, “I’m sorry.”
“Nay,” he murmured. “Do not be. I regret only ’tis not your hands that inspect so thoroughly.”
Noelle’s pulse skipped. Invitation lay before her, an opportunity to reverse the sourness her insecurities had created. But could she? Could she really cast aside her modesty and give in to what she wanted most—to do exactly as he suggested? She summoned all the courage she could find and whispered, “You wouldn’t mind?”
Farran’s exhale rushed out on a prolonged whish of air. “God’s teeth, nay, Noelle. I hunger for your touch.”
Slowly she sat up and lifted her eyes to meet his searing gaze.
* * *
Farran did not know whether he had sentenced himself to hell, or whether he had opened the gates to heaven. But as Noelle crossed the room, her head bowed with modesty, she peeked up at him with a shy, hesitant smile, and he lost the ability to move. He stood motionless, expectant and uncertain.
When inquisitive fingertips caressed his chest, he closed his eyes to the perfect pleasure. Her hands were so gentle. Healing in so many ways. The light scrape of her nails tightened his flesh, the tickle of her journey across his ribs stirred a chuckle.
“Oh, sorry,” she exclaimed, her voice a hushed wash of air against his chest.
With a shake of his head, he dismissed her apology. Not opening his eyes, he caught her free hand and pressed it firmly to his body to encourage her further. “Never again apologize, lest you have truly wronged me.”
The flutter of her lips on his shoulder had him gritting h
is teeth. His body tightened at the softness of her palm as she smoothed a hand down the length of his abominable scar. When the cotton of her long shirt brushed against his thigh, and she stepped so close the scent of jasmine engulfed him, his throat closed tight. Jesu, she would tempt even the purest of saints. ’Twas all the strength he possessed to keep his hands still and not crush her close and ravage her until time stood still and Azazel, the demons, their crossed purposes, all faded away.
Her hands skimmed lower, across the stiffened muscles of his thighs. One lone fingertip traveled the length of his swollen cock, from base to tip. His breath came out on a hiss. He moved his hips away, not trusting himself. To his absolute frustration, she ignored the subtle warning and closed those searing fingers around the length of him.
“Noelle, ’tis not wise—” He choked on his words as she gave him a tentative squeeze.
“Tell me what to do, Farran?”
Quiet, curious, her voice pummeled into his awareness like cannonade. He groaned aloud, knowing he should not look, yet unable to stop his eyes from opening and his gaze from locking on the sight of her delicate fingers possessively wrapped around him. Nature took over. He undulated against her hand, aching for the promise of her brazen exploration.
Knowing he damned himself if she should stop, he closed his hand over hers and guided her into a slow up and down motion. When she shook off his hand and brought her other into play, Farran’s knees threatened to give out. His body surged into her hands, and he stumbled backward, grateful the wall was there to hold him up. He reached for her breasts, cupped them, and squeezed.
Immortal Surrender (Curse of the Templars) Page 22
