Brave the Tempest (Cassandra Palmer #9) - Karen Chance Page 0,89

using to scrub his wet hair. But that didn’t matter. I’d know those abs anywhere.

There were some new scars, I noticed, and a bruise on his side as big as my fist, causing the tat of a sharp-edged sword to bulge oddly in the middle, because the swelling hadn’t gone down yet. But the lightly furred chest was unmarked, and the scars over one bicep and at his rib cage were well on their way to being healed. They weren’t even discolored anymore, although I could still feel the raised ridges under my fingertips.

I realized that I’d crossed the room and started feeling him up without saying a word, which was weird, but I didn’t stop there. The body under my hands was hard and solid and warm and alive, and that libido thing? Yeah, that was back.

With a vengeance.

“I thought you weren’t coming,” he said as I slid my arms around his neck and then hopped, wrapping my legs around him, too.

“Got caught up,” I murmured, my teeth on his bottom lip, which was plumper than I remembered. Of course, I didn’t have a lot of experience trying to eat Pritkin. Need to change that, I decided, and tightened my legs.

I could feel him respond, in more ways than one, and I laughed and mangled that delicious lip some more. And then went on to nibble along the jawline. And to worry his earlobe, and God, I would eat him if I could, a raging hunger suddenly ripping through me.

I landed on the bed a moment later, with him on top of me, and that was even better, that was perfect. I rubbed up against him, found his lips, drank him down. Much better, but not enough. The hunger seemed to grow with every movement instead of satiating, my tongue in his mouth, his in mine, warm, sweet, stroking, no! Not what I wanted!

“Thought you liked it rough,” I growled, and saw his eyes catch fire.

What followed was not a sweet kiss. It was not gentle and romantic. It was almost a fight in kiss form, and if that didn’t say everything about the man, I thought, and rolled over, getting on top, using a move he’d taught me.

I was vaguely surprised that it had worked, but he was distracted. Or maybe he let me win. He didn’t look upset, despite the small “oof” he let out before I kissed him back.

Mine wasn’t gentle, either. It was full of weeks of terror and worry that I’d lost him, that I’d never see him again. Other than as an empty shell of a body, with the soul it should have housed having been cursed and sent tumbling back through time to his birth, in order to snuff it out.

That had been a gift from the demon high council, who viewed Pritkin as a dangerous renegade, a stubborn son of a bitch with a temper and more magic than was good for him, who they couldn’t control. And they were right; nobody had ever been able to control him. Of course, the same could be said of me, which is why I’d immediately taken off after him.

And found him—just. And brought him back. And gotten less time with him than anyone!

“I was going to go slow,” he told me, his hands expertly working me out of the damned robe. “Take you to dinner; buy you flowers . . .”

“I already ate, and I have flowers upstairs,” I panted, ripping off the T-shirt.

“Then what can I do for you?”

“I can only think of a couple hundred things,” I said, and pounced.

And promptly found myself on my back, a war mage between my legs, sliding my panties down. “No,” he said, pointing a finger at me as I tried to move.

“What?”

“Stay there.”

“No, I can’t! I don’t need foreplay, damn it!”

“Well, that’s unfortunate,” the impossible man said. “Because I do.”

Liar, I thought, catching sight of a healthy bulge. At least somebody looked happy to see me. But it was covered by damned terry cloth and wasn’t getting any closer. In fact, the opposite was true, as Pritkin slid down my body.

Damn it, I was Pythia! Why did nobody do what I told them? Wasn’t I supposed to be in charge? Wasn’t I supposed to be—

Uhgnnn!

My brain broke, descending into garbled, incoherent thoughts, because Pritkin wasn’t as blasé as he seemed. Instead of kissing his way up my thighs, torturing me as I’d feared, he’d decided to torture me in another way. A far more