Heart of Fire (Blood of Zeus #2) - Meredith Wild Page 0,3
want to have my way with you.”
“Who says we’re doing that inside the yurt?”
“Ohhh.” Her laugh is high but husky as I bite and nuzzle my way to her ear. “So, right out on the sand? I enjoy how your mind works, Maximus Kane.”
Her praise inspires me to new action. After a decisive yank and a forceful swoop, I roll us both all the way over, off the mattress and onto the floor. My wicked laugh mingles with Kara’s stunned shriek, and we kiss with deeper passion as the white fabric billows then settles around us. Her mouth is warm and wide, ready for me to explore and savor. Her body is bare and beautiful, ready for me to touch and tantalize. But the best part of it all is her passion, returned to me with fullness and fire…especially the flames that call to me from her eyes.
Surrounded by that awesome blaze, I’m able to find words to fill my parched throat. “I think we should pretend this is the sand.”
“And now I adore how your mind works.”
I pull her close, guiding one of her thighs around mine while cushioning her head with my bicep. I need another kiss, and I take it. Her mouth is as hot and succulent as ever, matching the decadent dew between her legs, telling me she’s more than ready for me. And holy hell, am I ready for her.
She moans as if she’s received every detail of that message from my psyche. Yet again I’m grateful for the woman’s hyper empathy. Go, little demon, go.
No.
Stay, little demon, stay.
She smiles against my lips. “Well,” she whispers, pushing incessantly at the waistband of my pants. “If you insist…”
I don’t get the chance to answer her. A pronounced slam of the front door does it for me.
I go still. Kara tenses too, but not in the same who’s-barging-in-at-six-a.m. way.
“Take it down a notch, Olympian,” she chides before kissing me softly. “It’s just Kell. She’s clearly been out canoodling.”
I kiss her back but keep my eyes open, kicking up a brow. “‘Canoodling’?”
“It’s what she does. But back to what we were doing. Something about pretend sand…and having my way with you…”
I let her kiss me once more, but I still can’t relax into her desire. Something—instinct, sixth sense, premonition, whatever—eats at my libido. Something about the rhythm of the footsteps out in the living room. Footsteps that don’t track toward Kell’s bedroom…or even the kitchen.
“Kara? You awake?”
I breathe a little easier. Okay, it is Kell.
“Kara.”
Holy shit. That’s not. But I recognize the voice instantly.
“Kara!” Veronica Valari’s repetition seems to push at the walls themselves. “I need to see you out here. Now.”
Chapter Two
Kara
The best thing about seeing my mother at this hour is that Z is standing right beside her. For all Maximus’s doubts, for everything he’s feeling about this man that’s far from resolved, Z’s presence here gives me hope. My mother’s icy stare adds to my surety that he’s found a way out of this mess. She wouldn’t look so miserable otherwise.
Her arms are folded tightly across her chest, accentuating her heavy bust through the leopard fabric of her blouse. Silence hangs in the room like the early morning fog. Except this is more eerie than peaceful.
Kell shifts on her feet, her gaze fixed on some imaginary point of interest outside. Everything about her posture betrays her guilt.
“You told her I was here,” I utter with bitter resignation.
Her eyes are wide and dark, nearly a mirror of my own. “It wasn’t like that.”
“I only asked for a little time to lay low,” I remind her.
“Lay low? After the warhead button you’ve pushed?” my mother scoffs, hiking one of her etched black brows. “Besides, there were only so many places to look, darling.” She utters the last word with sugary sweetness that doesn’t match the rest of her tense posture. “You haven’t been answering my calls, which simply isn’t like you.” She lifts her gaze, narrowing it on the man beside me. Her regard slides south of Maximus’s waist before her nostrils flare slightly. “At least you have discriminating tastes, Kara. He could have been human.”
Z answers with a low chuckle as he casually paces the living room, curiously checking out the decor. “That’s my boy.” The perusal and the remark feel like an invasion.
I don’t know whether to feel defensive or downright embarrassed by the conversation. “I don’t see how it matters, all things considered.”