Toxic Game (GhostWalkers #15) - Christine Feehan Page 0,88

bordered on feminine. When he smiled, he took her breath away, those strong white teeth showing the perfection of his smile.

She wanted his touch on her skin. His mouth on her breasts. She wanted him inside her, sharing her skin. Making them one. She didn’t believe that his friends could save them, and she wanted to know what it felt like to make love to someone who was her absolute match. Draden was hers. The one. The only. She didn’t know how she knew it, but she did know that nothing in her life was truer.

Water slashed across the window and the wind hit the little cabin with a force that rocked it, drawing her attention back to the storm. The shower went off abruptly, but she didn’t turn around. She liked the storm and would have gone outside on the porch to witness its approach if she had more clothes. She was traveling light out of necessity. Whitney always arranged for weapons to be waiting at her destination, along with the necessary permits to carry them.

Sometimes she traveled under various identities, but she didn’t care what anyone called her, unless they addressed her as Shylah. That was real to her. Now, Draden had her rethinking her name, Peony. Who wanted to be named Peony? It was a ridiculous name, but Draden made it sound sexy. When he whispered that name in her mind so intimately, she melted inside.

What would be so wrong with having sex, Draden? She poured need into her mind. Hunger. The image of her kneeling at his feet, his cock in her mouth.

He groaned. She almost smirked at his reaction. He wasn’t nearly in as much control as he pretended to be.

Woman, you’re a handful.

She brought her hands up under her breasts, her fingers performing a small massage, thumbs sliding over the twin peaks. Just that light touch sent streaks of fire racing straight to her sex, lighting her up.

I think I’m more than a handful. Can you feel me? This is where your mouth should be. She was taunting him, trying to force his hand. She knew better. She knew she should hear what he had to say before she succumbed to other needs, before she made up her mind, but she didn’t want to chance missing out on him.

My mouth needs to be somewhere else.

At once she had the image of her legs over his shoulders and his mouth feeding at her sex. It was so erotic she squirmed, nearly feeling him there, his tongue lapping and stroking, his teeth teasing. It was too much to think about.

Devouring you, he corrected. Eating you like candy. Claiming what’s mine.

It was a dangerous game the two of them were playing, when he had seemed so determined not to get physical. Claiming what’s mine, she echoed. I like that. I like feeling as if I belong with you.

He came up behind her, his arms sliding around her, tight, under her breasts, holding her while they both stared out at the storm. It was nearly upon them now, lightning forking across the dark, purple sky, lighting up the canopy for a few seconds before it went dark again. The clouds were thick and nearly black, rolling and heaving as if in fury.

Draden’s mouth went to her neck, kissing her, teeth scraping back and forth. She shivered a response, her sex clenching, needing him more than ever. He suckled there for a moment, and then kissed his way to her shoulder.

“I really want you,” she admitted. “We both have the virus. Your friend said so. If we both have it, it doesn’t make any difference what we do. Right?” She wasn’t above asking for what she wanted. She didn’t believe they were miraculously going to be saved, no matter what his friend said. She knew he didn’t believe it either. It wouldn’t matter who asked first, once they both were dead.

He pressed his body tighter against hers, so she could feel the evidence of his desire imprinted in her skin. “Go lie on the bed. We’re going to talk, and I want to look at you while we do.”

Staring at his reflection, she lifted her chin. He didn’t seem to realize that his thumbs were sliding back and forth across her nipples. Each touch sent that sweet, sweet wildfire roaring through her veins to settle between her legs.

“Fine. We’ll talk then.” She moved out of his arms, but she drew the tank over her head and tossed it onto