Dancing With Danger (Goode Girls #3) - Kerrigan Byrne Page 0,40

Deep inside of her. Without moving anything.

The Fauve that he was desired just that. He could simply bathe her womb in his seed, thinking it could take root.

How could it not when he was so deliciously deep?

Never. An insidious inner voice reminded him. You promised to never.

A hasty breath created a movement where they were joined. And the noise she made stirred him.

A sigh of curious delight.

Encouraged, he rolled his hips slightly and she responded each time with tiny sounds in her throat. Little mewls, like that a kitten would make.

His kitten.

Mon chaton.

Then she said the most dangerous words one could utter to a man like him.

“More. I want more.”

It was all he needed.

He gave it to her, in long, deliberate—if careful—thrusts. He fed her his length once. And again. And again. Wedging himself impossibly deeper each time.

Her arms clutched at him, her lush mouth opening in a silent quest for a kiss, but he denied her.

He had to watch, to see the play of emotion run across her face. To observe what he wrought inside of her. The astonishment and the acceptance. The heat and the hunger. The shuddering surrender.

Raphael knew the moment she’d become a prisoner to her pleasure. It pulled her away from him. Unfocused her eyes and brought her entire concentration inward. He knew what his languorous strokes built, that the angle of their hips created friction not only inside but against the engorged knot of sensation that was the button to every woman’s desire.

Sweat bloomed between them, creating a damp, erotic slide of flesh against flesh. It was as if they had fused into one, that he’d become buried so deep inside her body, that he might have reason to hope to lodge himself in her heart, as well.

Their limbs tangled in untidy knots, mirroring his emotions.

Perhaps if he entwined them so thoroughly, there would be no unraveling them.

This.

This was the danger of addiction.

When something took you away from yourself. When it became as essential as air or water. Oblivion merged into sensation and colors fused into high-relief and time lost all meaning. Perhaps the future was a memory. Or the past was a lie.

Or there was only this.

This moment. This joy. This act. This emotion.

This woman.

He’d not expected her to come again. Not her first time.

But when her spine arched and her sex spasmed around him in delicious contractions, something like panic surged as his own climax gathered through his veins.

It sped toward him, an avalanche bent on annihilation. He already knew how powerful it would be and still couldn’t leap out of the way.

It would ruin him. Shatter him.

He barely pulled out in time.

Burying a roar in the velvet of her quilt, he let his cock slide between their bodies as his release ripped him apart. It was a cataclysm of pleasure, something so mind-altering he knew the moment defined him.

Because there was the resolute man he’d been before he tasted the heaven that was the embrace of Mercy Goode.

And the tragedy of everything that was about to happen next.

Chapter 11

Mercy thought that relinquishing her virginity would make her feel older, somehow. More experienced and womanly. Perhaps even wise, now that she’d been initiated into the society of secret smiles shared by Nora and Pru, her two married sisters.

Instead, she felt very young and vulnerable as she complacently allowed Raphael to wipe away the slick leavings of their joining from her belly and between her thighs.

She stared at the shoes he’d discarded in haste. The one’s he’d wear to leave her.

Would he put them on? Was it time for him to go now?

Now that she was cold and oddly small and lonely in her massive bed.

Mercy took a moment to admire the masculine shape of his backside as he turned away from her and ministered to his own hygiene.

She wished she were a sculptor. A painter. Any sort of artist that could capture him in a rendering.

For memories had a tendency to fade, and she wanted to appreciate his beauty every day.

He returned to her, and her heart lifted as he slid into the bed and gathered her against him. Settling on his back, he arranged her boneless limbs over his muscled form like a marionette before spreading her curls across his chest so he could stroke her hair with lazy fingers.

She nuzzled into him as he yawned with such ferocity his jaw cracked and his limbs shuddered with it.

As elegant and sinister as he was with his fine suits and caustic conversation,