What was he thinking?
Burying a hand in her hair, he let the silky strands slip through his fingers. When those cinnamon-brown eyes drifted closed, he pulled her head to rest next to his neck. As he massaged her soft scalp, the gold hair glinted with coppery sparks in the sunshine.
With her lips resting on his neck, he lost the ability to think straight. And when she brushed her mouth beneath his jaw, the movement sent a lightning bolt of desire straight into the part of his body trapped beneath her hips. He ground his teeth together, employing sheer willpower to keep his hands from traveling over her body. Sweat prickled his forehead.
She drew back and tipped her chin up, the movement exposing the hollow between her collarbones. Where he’d almost lost control. He froze. Guilt gripped his stomach and squeezed.
It took a superhuman act of strength to meet her gaze. But the expression on her face didn’t condemn him, didn’t blame him.
Instead, those warm eyes studied him. She blinked. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips.
The thuds of his heart reverberated in his head until he lost all coherent thought. Fixated on the sweet hollow at the base of her neck, he swallowed.
Unable to resist, he dipped his head and brushed his mouth over her neck. When he tasted her skin, she shuddered. The wave of satisfaction from her reaction stunned him and whetted his need for more. Even still, he kept one arm around her waist and a hand resting lightly on the back of her neck.
With a shy smile, she rose up on her knees, trailing her soft lips over his jaw, up to his ear. A sensual electrical charge shot through him at the warm breath at his sensitive earlobe. He clenched his hand in her hair, and she squeaked.
“Sorry.” Basic language skills had become a challenge for him.
“Not okay?” she said.
Her moist lips were swollen, parted and ripe for the taking. But he wouldn’t take, not from her. And that restraint went against every fiber of his being.
However, he’d become a different man—a better man—for her, if that was what she needed.
“What you’re doing is very okay. You are a dangerous woman.”
When she kissed his mouth, he struggled to hold still.
“If you keep it up, I will lose what’s left of my mind,” he groaned.
He gently took her lower lip in his teeth until she gasped.
Tightening his grip on her neck, he grinned. “But losing my mind is okay.”
She bent back to his ear, her light nips making his groin tighten. She made him crazy. Forget the knife compulsion. Right now, his desire for her trumped the hungry blade times ten.
Sliding his hand from her neck down her back, he kept a loose grip around her tiny waist.
When she leaned back, she trailed her fingers over his chest and abdomen, making his muscles jump. What would those hands feel like on other areas of his anatomy? His mouth went dry.
He shifted his legs wider, trying something, anything, to relieve the pressure in his jeans. All that maneuver accomplished was planting her cute derriere more firmly onto the one mutinous area of his body that was about to detonate. Amazing what this slip of a woman did to him. He wanted her. Badly.
When her hands drifted lower on his belly, he caught her wrists in his hand.
“Hannah, I need you.” He nodded toward the cabin. “In there. Now.”
Swallowing convulsively when she sat down firmly on his lap, Dante struggled to concentrate. His nether region had ideas of its own, and it was becoming more insistent by the minute.
“I want you,” he repeated.
She didn’t move. Air stirred her hair around her shoulders.
He let go of her hands and rested his palms on her hips.
Her brow furrowed as she opened her mouth and closed it.
Trying again, he said, “I need you. But not if you don’t want, if you can’t—”
Who the hell can form a sentence with a woman sitting on his kryssbåge?
“I will do whatever you want. Or not.” He mentally slapped his palm to his forehead. How had the eloquent Dante been reduced to a few sputtered words?
He hoped he could keep his promise. At some point you couldn’t unexplode a grenade. But he’d stop for her. It might render him a permanent eunuch when his balls burst into flames, but he would do whatever she needed him to do. However she needed him to do it.
For a torturously long time, he held her loosely at the waist as she sat on his groin, blithely unaware of the devastating effect her butt had on him. He suffered, but what beautiful torture.
After what seemed like centuries, she pinned him with a questioning expression. “You truly want me?”
“Like I’ve never wanted any woman in over 300 years.”
Please believe me, ålskling.
Tears shimmered. “Even knowing ... all that’s happened to me? That I’m damaged?”
“I want you. The good and the not so good. All of you. For me. Only for me.”
He traced his fingers over the small of her back, pleased when she arched into his hands. “Truly, I care that you have suffered horrible things, and I would do anything to take those away. But you are not defined by another person’s cowardly act. You are Hannah, beautiful and strong. You seduce me like no woman has since the beginning of my entire existence.”
She studied him with soulful eyes. He fought to hold her gaze and also remain still. Give her time. Be patient. His gut clenched.
She finally answered him. “Yes.”
“Yes?” He had to consciously close his gaping mouth.
Glancing toward the cabin door, she said, “Please, Dante.”
When she laced her fingers around the back of his neck to kiss him again, her whole body trembled.
He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and waist, trying to surround her as much as possible. With her legs locked around his waist, he stood and walked into the cabin, kissing her, murmuring reassurances. She weighed next to nothing, which only made him want to protect her more.
When he closed the door, she twisted her head around.
“Lock, please.”
“Anything you want.”
Chapter 15
When he drew the bolt with a firm twist of his wrist, the feeling of safety relaxed her limbs. She entwined her limbs around him and relished in the warmth of his frame as he carried her to the bedroom, where he stopped and locked that door as well.
Dante kept her in his arms as he stooped and spread out the blankets on the low bed. When he deposited her on the side of the bed, she instantly missed the contact.
Uncertain of what to do next, she took in the grim set of his mouth. After a big breath, he knelt on the floor in front of her, not taking his ice-blue eyes off her face. The intensity of his stare set her heart pounding.
He dipped his head and laced his fingers in hers, drawing her hands to the bottom of his shirt. Curious, interested, and wanting more, she worked her hands under the fabric and pulled it up.
Surprisingly soft skin covered the hard heat of his torso. She paused and reveled in the lines of his bare back and belly. When he groaned, she snatched her hands away until he captured them and brushed his lips over the backs of them.
He grabbed the hem of his shirt. “May I?” His hoarse voice made her nerves tingle.
At her nod, he ripped off his thermal shirt and threw it to the floor.
With a hunger that surprised her, she studied the muscled ridges and planes. As if he sensed her perusal, his muscles twitched. But he didn’t move.
Even when she leaned forward to trail fingers over his bare chest, he held utterly still. The knuckles of his fisted hands whitened when she brushed a finger over his hard, flat nipple. He paused mid-breath. She could get used to watching him respond to her touch.
Fine hair covered his chest, and she wanted to know how her cheek would feel against him. “You’re amazing,” she whispered, as she traced the hard lines of his shoulders.
“I was thinking the same thing abo
ut you. May I?”
At her nod, he grasped the hem of her T-shirt and hoodie and slid them up and away. His hands skimmed her ribs and arms in an amazing trail of warmth. She shivered in the cooler air. For a split second, she fought the urge to cover herself, but one look at his darkening eyes bolstered her confidence.
The electricity when he brushed his fingers over her bra sent a delicious quiver straight into her belly and then lower. He licked his lips, unclasped the bra, and peeled it off of her.
“Kristus, you’re beautiful.”
When he sucked one tip into his mouth and flicked his tongue over it, she gasped and grabbed his shoulders. His groan echoed her own as he moved to the other breast, driving her to clench the hair at the nape of his neck. Arching toward his mouth, she realized what she wanted.
More.
More of his mouth, his hands, his intensity.
More connection. More Dante.
Wanting his mouth on hers, she caressed his jaw and tilted his strong face up to hers. When she pressed her mouth to his, she no longer hesitated. He responded by kissing her deeply, opening her mouth wide as his tongue probed and tangled with her tongue. So delicious, his scent, his taste, how his hands cupped her breasts and rolled the nipples until she gasped into his mouth.
Half standing now, Dante eased her back onto the bed. Instead of hovering over her, he lay on his side next to her and continued to trace patterns of pleasure over her face and chest. With a shock, she realized that the panting sound came from her, and she rolled toward him, kissing him again.
Popping the button of her jeans, he slid a hand over the soft skin of her lower belly.
“Is this ok?”
She nodded. When she lifted her hips, he smoothed the fabric down her legs and away, leaving her in cotton underwear. As he trailed his hands down her leg, she froze and made a noise of protest when he approached her ankle. The damned panic rose again as she shifted to hide her foot.
“Don’t. Please. No, it’s not—”
“Shh. You’re perfect.”
He murmured reassurances as he trailed kisses down her leg. When he reached the puckered pink line of scar that she hated, the deformed bones that represented everything evil done to her, he paused. As the recipient of that onyx black stare, she couldn’t breathe.
What did he think of her damaged foot? Did it disgust him? Did the acts surrounding the injury repulse him? Oh God, this was a mistake. She shouldn’t be here, doing this, with him.
She tried to crawl backward and pull her offensive leg away from him.
“Stop.” He laid his big hand on her calf.
She froze.
“Do you trust me?” He ground out the words between clenched teeth.
She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t run.
“Watch me.” His gentle but firm command calmed her nerves.
No part of his expression suggested displeasure. There was no indication that he was going to reject her. In fact, he looked like a man who wanted to ravish her but was using every ounce of strength to hold back. The hard slash of his mouth curled upward into a rakish grin.
He pressed his mouth to her leg and down onto her ankle along the scar, all the while keeping his eyes locked on to hers. Gently, he lifted her damaged foot, and devoured her with his avid gaze as he kissed all the way around her ankle. He flicked his tongue over the bones that jutted beneath the skin of her foot. Even the numb underside of her foot benefited from the warmth of his mouth.
As he caressed her leg, she finally let her head loll back with a deep sigh. From her ankle to her spine and neck, all of the muscles gradually relaxed. When he worked his way up the opposite leg, she shivered.
He paused on her upper thigh and nipped the sensitive skin, startling her. His chuckle sent ripples of pleasure through her entire body. As he licked her flat belly, she quivered beneath his touch, unable to control the moan of pleasure escaping her mouth.
“You’re beautiful.” He laved her belly button, sending a bolt of desire into her groin. “Soft.” He punctuated his words with a nip or a lick. “Sexy. Perfect.”
He ran a hand low, over the cotton-clad skin, and rubbed. The heat centered near her core spread out to her limbs.
“I want to pleasure you, ålskling. Make you crazy.” He hooked a finger beneath her panties. And paused. “Ålskling?”
Tension cranked deep in her pelvis as his hand drifted lower. “Yes,” she panted.
He tugged her panties down and away. The cool air over her sensitive skin was replaced by the warmth of his palm. He cupped and stroked her until she couldn’t hold her hips still. Tiny gasps escaped her lips.
Her heart thudded, and not from fear.
He slid a finger over her entrance, then along her folds. The rhythm pushed the delicious tightness in her pelvis higher and higher.
“God, Dante. You’re torturing me.”
When she reached for him, he dodged her arms and continued the relentless movement of his fingers. His jet-black eyes managed to twinkle.
“Good. It’s about time you experience a fraction of the torture you’ve put me through these past few days. I’ve wanted you so badly.”
His words unlocked a piece of her soul that had been buried for years. Her heart wanted to soar out of her chest.
“Please.” She shifted her hips, wanting more of his finger, more of his warmth. She groaned in frustration when he retreated.
“Soon.”
Nudging her legs apart, he glided his fingers along the inner and outer folds, brushing against her entrance. With each upward motion, he briefly circled sensitive flesh, increasing the pressure with each pass until she couldn’t think.
“Dante,” she gasped.
“Yes, ålskling?”
“I need ...” She shook her head and reached for him.
“More?”
When he pressed a finger deeper into her opening, the sensation ricocheted pleasure through every pore of her body. He leaned forward and absorbed her gasps with his mouth, but when she dug her nails into his shoulders, his breath became ragged.
“More?” he said next to her ear. His low voice rumbled through her body, setting nerve endings on edge.
As he advanced his finger, her muscles clenched.
“Yes,” she whispered.
He shifted to kneel next to her side, slid an arm under her neck and slanted his mouth over hers. He explored her mouth, filling her. His finger built a slow, relentless rhythm. Bumping her leg with his, he nudged her wider until she lay open to him.
Open. Vulnerable. For an instant every muscle tensed.
In any situation other than this one, she should be terrified.
Should be, but no more. Not with Dante.
He had healed those invisible scars from years ago. Or maybe they’d healed them together.
Didn’t matter.
All that mattered was this moment, in his arms, safe. Cherished.
When she fisted a hand in the hair at the nape of his neck, he pressed his finger into her and palmed her sensitive skin as her hips shook. He continued to devour her mouth with his own until she couldn’t tell where she ended and he began. The tension in her hips mounted until the pleasure exploded in her body and in her mind.
With a hard arch toward him, she came apart in his hand, her inner muscles clenching. He continued the relentless rhythm, drawing out more spasms from her core. A few aftershocks later, she finally lay on the bed. Her limbs refused to move. Her entire body buzzed with happiness. Her defenses now laid to waste, the transfer sensation flowed freely between them, dancing up her limbs in warm connection.
With an expression that managed to combine swagger, sexual hunger, and a boyish grin, Dante withdrew his finger and smoothed his hands over her hips and waist until she shivered again.
He trailed his mouth down the center of her body. Chin, neck, breastbone, navel. He was going to drive her to the brink of insanity.
Time for payback.
When she touched the band
of his jeans, the shudder that ripped through him shook the bed.
Good. She had something to contribute as well. Confidence growing, she ran her finger over his lower belly, the intense heat flowing from him into her fingertips.
“Dante. More.”
“Anything you want.” He grinned. “Especially if it’s me.”
He removed his pants, his member standing out, obvious and hard. When he knelt over her, she fought another wave of terror and froze. Damn it.
“Dante, please, I—”
He had stopped moving as well, and the tenderness in the big man’s face almost brought her to tears. Silently, he rolled onto his back and lifted her to kneel above him.
“You’re in charge,” he said.
She hesitated, and then sat down on his groin.
His gut-wrenching groan was followed by a strangled cough. “But with you sitting there, you will kill this undead man if you don’t move that lovely ass away. You have no idea what you do to me.”
“No mercy.” She smiled.
Imitating his actions earlier, she eased forward to nip lightly along his torso. With every lick, she tasted his male essence, smelled the light cologne. His hands clenched her hips every few seconds, but he made no move to do more. His growls shot delicious vibrations through her mouth and pelvis, turning her insides to goo.
When she leaned forward, she brushed against his erection, and both of them groaned.
“You’re driving me out of my mind, ålskling,” he ground out beneath a tight jaw.
“I’d like to drive more.”
His black eyes glinted. “You’re in charge. I might go insane, but God help me, you’re in charge.”
She eased away and stroked his hard erection, uncertain in her actions but enjoying the thickness sheathed by silky skin. Stroking down the length and back up to the tip, she looked up sharply at his grunt.
“Okay?”
“Please continue. What you’re doing is—”
His ribbed belly muscles clenched when she ran her finger over a particularly interesting ridge. Sweat trickled down his temple.
Emotions she hadn’t experienced before rolled through her: appreciation for the man on the bed, satisfaction that she could bring him such pleasure. She hadn’t been in control of much of her life for the past four years. Here this giant of a man ceded all control to do what she wanted. Amazing.
Relentless Flame (Hell to Pay) Page 18
