holding his leg together, metal that would set off airport detectors, metal that fought against his body even while it healed.
There was a heart-wrenching disconnect between his wounds and his strong, stunningly healthy body. A contradiction between vulnerability and strength. And she wanted to weep.
Trying to breathe through the tight ache in her chest, Isis swung her legs off the sofa, then sank to her knees in front of him. Curving both hands gently around the back of his thigh, she laid her cheek against the ravaged scars. “That sick son of a bitch almost killed you!”
For a few heavy beats of her heart, he didn’t say anything, then murmured thickly, “You unman me.” His fingers tangled gently in her hair as she pressed her hot cheek to his leg where shiny surgical scars felt cool, and healthy skin burned to the touch. “I thought you’d pass out when you saw this mess.”
“Then you don’t know me at all.” This time the tears of fury threatened to spill. She gritted her teeth and forced them away. “I want to find this guy and do unmentionable things to hi—”
Thorne’s laugh sounded rusty as he combed his fingers tenderly through her hair. “Do them to me instead.”
“Can’t I just have a moment to fantasize about causing him excruciating pain?”
“How about giving us excruciating pleasure instead?”
Brushing another kiss to the indentation of a once well-developed thigh muscle, Isis skimmed her hand across the delicate skin above the hideous wound, where his flesh was still smooth. His body tightened. “Sensitive?”
“You’re damned close to where I want you to be.” His voice was thick.
His golden body was lightly furred with silky dark hair as Isis glided her mouth after her hand. Velvety skin to rough hair. She pressed her face to him there, where smooth met coarse, and inhaled his heat. His body humbled her. His strength and vulnerability. Trailing her lips upward, she let her hands lead the way to the thick curve of his penis.
Curling her fingers around the velvety length, Isis brought her mouth over him, licking the satiny vein pulsing beneath her tongue, then taking him in her mouth, making him shudder and tighten his fingers in her hair. “You don’t—” His fingers tightened in her hair.
Ignoring his halfhearted protest, she loved him with her mouth, her teeth, her tongue. Sucking him deep, savoring the musky male smell of him, his hot salty taste made her impossibly hotter. She wanted to give him exquisite pleasure to at least momentarily blot away the pain. His heavy, rapid heartbeats pulsed against the inside of her cheek. She scraped her teeth delicately over the entire length, and reveled in the hard shudder that racked his body. Isis slid her other hand around to caress the taut cheek of his butt as it flexed beneath her exploring fingers.
Suckling harder, she pulled him deeper, until his hips arched against her and he made a rough sound, fisting his hands in her hair. Milking him with her hand, Isis swirled her tongue, caressing his length, reveling in her power to make him this helpless. She felt the unbearable tension stiffen his body. “You don’t have to—God—”
She wanted to. Holding him tightly she rode his wave, her nails digging into his butt cheek, her fingers tightened around him to hold him there as he came.
His large hand pressed her face against him as his hips bucked. After several moments he let go of her and pulled her to her feet. Closing his arms around her, Thorne pulled her hard against his sweat-dampened chest, his breath ragged, his heartbeat manic. They were both shaking as she wiped her mouth on his shoulder, and he stroked her back.
“The tongue is mightier than the sword,” she teased, her own need a powerful driving force that made her knees wobble and her hands shake. The brush of the crisp hair on his chest against her tender breasts made her crazy with need.
Thorne laughed as he backed her the few feet to the sofa. “Let’s see how you like the tables turned, darling.”
Isis liked it just fine.
She went from standing to prone before she knew it.
His breath was as rapid as her own as he supported his weight on his elbows and slid over her. “Yes!”
Still semi-erect, he slid into the delta of her thighs, making her pant lightly. She wiggled to give him more room, and herself more air. She felt crazed, balanced precariously on a knife’s edge of lust and longing.