Firm, powerful lips invaded and took, pleasured and devoured. Then slowly after a few soft sucking kisses on her swollen lips, he lifted his head. She felt weak, ready to melt over the ATV seat if not for Jared’s strong arms holding her.
“Your clothes,” he said hoarsely, breathlessly. “Take them off.”
And she was right with him on that. In a rush of arms and legs they peeled off T-shirts and shorts, all the way down to their bare feet. Kelsey chuckled, breaking the sexual tension a little.
“What?”
“The ATV has one major benefit over the snowmobile.” She looked at him from beneath her lashes. “The weather is warmer.” She arched back, letting the sun touch her breasts more fully.
Jared groaned, his gaze taking in every inch of her. He went to pull a condom from the pocket of jeans.
“We don’t need that. I have it covered,” she whispered and shivered in anticipation. She knew she was about to have the best experience of her life. Her heart sped up at his sexy, approving grin.
Taking hold of her leg, he turned her in the seat. She shifted along with him as he mounted in front of her, both of them straddling the four-wheeler. Weight propped on one arm, he leaned over her and cupped her face with his other hand, feathering delicate kisses over her lips.
His mouth felt sweet and delicious, but she wanted more, deeper. Pulling back, he traced his thumb along her jaw and down her neck, following the warm path of his thumb with his scorching eyes. He smiled a wicked smile, covered her mouth with his, and made magic with his tongue that swirled fiery vibrations down into her belly.
His hands palmed her breasts, lightly kneading them. When he broke the kiss, Kelsey gasped.
“God, I’m going to remember you like this for as long as I live,” he murmured.
His dark head angled down. His mouth came hot on her breast, a stark contrast to the cool mountain air, making her shiver and melt at the same time. He circled his tongue around a nipple. A strangled whimper burst from her throat, and she let her head drop back and closed her eyes. She completely gave herself over to the exquisite, quivering sensations that made her skin hot and every nerve longed for his next move.
The pad of his thumb grazed across her nipples, and he lightly pinched and plucked them until they peaked. A fresh wave of heat rushed to between her legs. He kissed her cheek, his lips dancing over hers, past her jaw and down her neck as his tongue left a sweet, fiery trail. His hot breath lingered over her breast, then he took her nipple into his mouth again, flicking his tongue, causing her body to arch.
She lifted her head, eyes wide open now, delighted with how his hands and mouth felt on her flesh.
He met her gaze, raising a brow. He was so incredibly handsome—that sensual smile, those eyes, dark with desire. And right then, it was clear, he knew exactly what havoc he was creating in her body. She throbbed between her legs, wet and slick, ready for him.
When she reached down to take his length in impatient fingers, he groaned and scooted her closer.
While his lips taunted and nipped, his hand settled in the vee between her legs. He rocked his fingers, hitting every critical nerve. She ground against his hand with a fierce yearning, suspended for an excruciating space of time at pleasure’s door.
And then she climaxed, spasms making her legs clamp on down on the seat. Wave after wave rippled from that tender spot. His tongue slipped back into her mouth as he let her rest a moment before initiating another climb, taking her to another peak.
He kissed her again as he ran a knuckle up and down her cleft, his mouth capturing her moans of pleasure. He slid his finger slowly in and out. Then she felt the first nudge of his hardness against her folds, and she searched his eyes, anticipating that first drive. Arching into him, she braced her weight on her flattened palms and lifted her hips to urge him deeper, faster. “More.”
Instead he teased her with slow thrusts, his eyes hooded, his chest glistening with sweat. She licked her lips, right on the edge of another mind-blowing wave of pleasure, but he refused to speed up, controlling the pace. “God, you feel so good,” he murmured.
“Please,” she moaned into his mouth.
And then, growling deep in his throat, he gave one pounding thrust. With each powerful stroke that followed, he let her take him to his hilt. Another shuddering climax, more dazzling than the sun on the water, rippled through her.
Kelsey watched his face as he joined her a moment later, savoring his pleasure as much as her own. The strained cords along his neck, his harsh breathing, the look of ecstasy that washed over his face as he closed his eyes, all touched her in a way she’d never expected. It was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.
He rested his forehead on her breast, and as she listened to his harsh, controlled breathing, she realized that her world had shifted, like the beginning of a new identity.
With athletic grace, he dismounted. Then he surprised her by slipping one arm beneath her knees, the other behind her back, and scooping her up. She threw her arms about his neck and tilted her head toward his with a contented sigh. “I love you,” he murmured.
Her heart swelled. “And I love you.” Kelsey laced her hand in his hair and kissed him.
He stood there, holding her for so long, she began to wonder if he was ever going to put her down. Finally, he asked, “Blanket or water?”
She thought about swimming, but wanted to savor his warmth instead. “Blanket.”
He carefully set her down on the blanket and then stretched out beside her.
She flipped her hair back. The next thing she knew his fingers were threaded through the disheveled strands, and he leaned in for another long, kiss.
“You know these soft curls nearly drove me senseless the night we watched that movie. I wanted to do this then.”
“You did…a little.”
“You were awake?”
She blushed. “I was enjoying it too much to let you know.”
She wanted him with every fiber of her being.
His gaze grazed over her body in the brilliant light of day, letting her know he wanted her again just as badly. As he hugged her to him, placing delicate, toe-curling kisses along her neck she emitted a shuddering sigh.
“I’m yours. Always,” she whispered.
“And I’m yours.”
When she closed her fingers over the swell of his manhood, he clenched his jaw and inhaled sharply. This time, she took the lead, urging him back, and he lifted her settling her onto him. Feeling the power of their bodies coming together she fought to control her breathing. She leaned forward to kiss him.
“You’re beautiful,” he murmured against her cheek. “Let me fulfill your fantasies.”
And he did, until their bodies were damp with perspiration and her heart bloomed with new possibilities.
* * *
Larissa Emerald also writes steamy, dark paranormal romance. Read on for a sneak peek of Awakening Fire.
Excerpt of
Awakening Fire
by Larissa Emerald
Emma sympathized with anyone who had to make transatlantic flights on a regular basis. The trip from Paris to Georgia left her rag-doll weary. She stifled a yawn while surveying the park setting where her mélange-metal statue would reside.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have made you stop here on the way from the airport. You must be exhausted.” Grammy tugged the zipper of her trendy black leather jacket higher. “It was thoughtless of me. I’m just so excited.”
“I’m fine.” Emma shrugged, and with the next yawn faced the enormous tree near where they stood.
A whisper of energy coiled around her. She pursed her mouth and clasped arms around her ribcage, as if the move offered protection. Fatigue would make her more susceptible to the visions.
Irked with herself over worrying about it, she dragged her phone from her jacket pocket and texted her girlfriend to let her know she’d arrived safe and sound. That accomplished, she engaged in her most prevalent form of
evasion, her art.
Nothing wrong with burying problems in a little work.
Which metals would capture the hues of oyster shells in the sky? What subject portrayed? Emma jotted mental notes to use in her artwork. She watched the changing color of dusk descend on the park as clouds loomed, back-lit in an eerie coppery shimmer. The diffused light made snow appear warm, rocks seem spongy, and trees look…mystical.
Her sense of apprehension escalated as the walkway blurred. Her knees grew weak. No. Not this time. She sucked in a deep breath and tensed, resisting. But she knew with sickening certainty the signs were a precursor of a vision. No controlling…
An arrow shaft protruded from her chest. Air wheezed through her lungs. In the wake of brutal radiating pain, time slowed. Her heart stopped.
Oh, God.
An image of a huge gray wolf, howling a cry of grief alongside her lifeless body materialized, lingered, dimmed to a sepia shadow. Had she…would she die here?
Emma blinked, disoriented, as the manifestation faded. Exhaling hard, she shifted her feet, seeking solid ground.
With frantic strength Emma overcame the pervasive mental intrusion. She snapped back to the present, to the grossly neglected Georgia park where she stood trembling, to the place her sculpture would call home.
On a downward glance, she settled shaky fingers over her beating heart. No blood. No arrow. Definitely alive.
Still, the suffocating sensation of a collapsed lung remained, causing her stomach to churn. How she even knew what one felt like alarmed her.
Stop thinking about it.
Emma’s breath swirled in a misty cloud as she validated her surroundings. Crisp air patted her cheeks. The massive oak before her released a sad moan, reminding her she possessed…talents. At the heat radiating through her right arm, she glanced down and opened a blazing hot fist to discover she’d inadvertently melted her grandmother’s favorite butterfly key fob beyond recognition.
Some talents. More like she’d been cursed.
With an unsteady sigh, she pushed hair off her face. Geez, her life hadn’t changed one iota.
“Are you okay?”
“Sure. But I can’t say the same for this.” She dangled the key chain in the air.
“I knew I should have nicknamed you hothands.”
They shared a chuckle.
Emma lifted her gaze. That tree. Its spindly branches seemed to reach out. The hair on her arms prickled. Something in the fractures of time yanked free. A ripple of unease washed over her.
Good and Evil used this place as a playground. At the moment, Evil acted the bully. She felt a bizarre tug-of-war for dominance, the power of it making her sway.
Leave. Me. Alone.
Plagued with visions her entire life, this evening’s was beyond vivid, a seven-point-five earthquake compared to a slight trembler. She flailed her arms in frustration. An erratic pulse thumped in her neck pumping warm blood into her face. Her temples ached.
Ignore. Regroup. Move on.
She shook her head, refocusing on where her commissioned statue would live. Her grandmother, who tarried a few steps behind, wouldn’t know the depth of Emma’s latest episode. Time distorted or elongated only within her mind.
What she needed was an anchor, physically and mentally. There was no way she’d allow her father to be right. She would control the lapse, but, darn, this bout threatened her common sense. She’d never seen herself die before.
Besides, wasn’t that supposed to kill you or something?
Or was that just in dreams, not visions. She gave a mental shrug, figuring it didn’t matter because she had both.
Focus. She was here on a job. The park.
It was spring in Tyler, Georgia, yet a late snow flurry masked the evidence. Weeds and yellow wildflowers nudged aside a layer of snow. Fresh green growth unfurled on branches.
The square must have been lovely at one time, but not now. A bench of battered and decayed wood collapsed sideways. The sidewalk resembled a war zone, with chunks of concrete broken and upended. Tree branches swept the ground, ignored for many, many years; it looked as if it had never been shaped.
The place was so out-of-character for prim and proper Georgia. Just like her. Father had always proclaimed her overactive imagination would lead to trouble. If he only knew the whole truth.
A hand slid across Emma’s back and grasped her shoulder. She almost jumped out of her grandmother’s hug.
“Just think, a Grant getting the distinction of creating a statue for the old town square. I can hardly believe it.” Grammy heaved one of her exaggerated, bursting with pride sighs…the way she did when the Thanksgiving table was landscaped to perfection.
“You drive a hard bargain, Grams. The committee couldn’t say no.” And neither could she. Her grandmother had requested a sculpture of a confederate soldier on a rearing horse. Not very original…but Emma obliged, thankful for both the much needed income and the chance to build her portfolio. She gradually relaxed into the woman’s solid embrace, somewhat grounded again.
She touched her head to her grandmother’s salon-teased auburn one, in the same “let’s-stick-together” manner she’d done since she was six, when she’d spent summer vacations here.
“Thanks for your help,” Emma said. Nothing like getting paid to visit her favorite relative. Since the city had commissioned her sculpture for the park renovation project, she’d be hanging out for the next few weeks to supervise its placement.
Grammy nodded. “Anytime. Besides, I didn’t want you in Paris any longer. It’s too darn far away, if you ask me.”
Actually, the greater distance meant fewer visions. Emma wasn’t sure why, but they were worse when she returned to her Georgia birthplace. Bonus points for Paris. “We talk and Skype all the time.”
Her grandmother slid a hand down Emma’s arm and back up over her shoulder. “That’s not the same as seeing your smiling face. Look at you, you’re shivering.”
Ominous gray clouds moved in and the sky grew darker. Emma felt more than saw the clump of wet red clay that covered the tip of her pink Crocs. She tamped her toe against a rock to clear it. “What an awful spring. Can’t believe it snowed on Easter.”
“The pecan blooms froze. The crop’ll be ruined.” A smile lighting her eyes, Grammy tsked, and seemed to dismiss the unfortunate prediction that might steal her pocket money. “Give it a few days, it’ll look better.”
“I’ll hold you to that.” Emma shuddered. Tree branches whipped one way, then the other, generating an eerie whistling.
She tugged the neckline of her suddenly constricting turtleneck sweater as she turned to explore a staked-out plot of ground. “It looks like this is where they plan to put the statue.”
She noticed that back near the road, landscaping equipment formed a neat line ready to be put to use. Her gaze swept back along the snow-patched ground, up the broken walkway, to the side where florescent orange construction fencing sectioned off individual trees, marking them for protection. A tiny ping caught in her gut. Something was off.
Again, her internal compass gravitated to the old oak standing center stage. Its trunk stretched out the size of a house, like several trees had grown together.
Emma frowned as intense golden eyes peered at her from the grained bark then vanished.
She angled her head. A figment of her imagination?
But she couldn’t shake the weird drag on her heart. As if she should know something important, yet couldn’t bring it forth. She didn’t attribute the feeling as remnants of her vision, but an existence entirely different. More like an unfathomable power…or presence. She scanned the park and rubbed her chilled arms. Was someone else here?
Watching?
* * *
In predator mode, Io slipped behind the downed bulldozer bucket. As his back jammed against a metal support, the machine inched to the side. In his eagerness, he’d forgotten to control his brute strength. While in human form his senses were faulty. He grumbled at
the oversight but kept tuned to the young woman.
He’d known the moment Emma Grant had set foot on Georgia soil.
Not such a difficult task, really. He’d been expecting her.
Now, he was curious about the reason she’d stopped at the park on her way from the airport. Was the Divine Tree’s power already blooming in Emma? Had the Ancient spoken to her?
When he’d killed Emma in her past life, and she’d lain on the grassy ground with his arrow jutting out of her chest, her blood had seeped into this magical oak’s roots.
The high counsel of devils had congratulated him for creating the catalyst to destroy the Divine Tree. Who knew. He certainly hadn’t. It had taken him shit-loads of long, painful, boring hours of watching to discover how he could use her newborn alchemist powers. He deserved this boon.
Now, if only he could overcome the free-will part of the equation.
Game on. He’d kill her again just to spite Venn. With a mental shake, he glared at Emma.
Did she realize the connection she shared with the tree?
If so, he’d have to move much quicker than he’d thought. No, no, he wouldn’t allow it to get out of hand.
He tried to quiet the nervous energy that continually tugged him in conflicting directions. His gaze darted from Emma to Mrs. Grant, listening intently. He plunged his hands into his pockets, withdrew them, then clasped them behind him.
The best he could determine…Emma was simply cold.
And Mrs. Grant took credit for arranging the art purchase.
Yes, it was better Emma thought her grandmother the instigator. Better she not discover the significance of the invitation. At least not until the ruination was complete, or Emma and The Guardian were dead. Either outcome would give him great pleasure.
After all, he’d discovered first hand that the best way to make someone suffer was to destroy the one thing most loved.
Winter Heat, Part 3 Page 6
