wrapped his arms around Fred’s back, buried his fingers in the long, thick curtain of her hair and yanked her against his chest, plunging his tongue past her parted lips into her wet, willing mouth.
The kiss was just as wild, just as fierce as their previous, but so much more powerful. So much more right. Her lips fit his to perfection, her tongue equal in ferocity to his own. With feverish longing and unquestionable desire, he invaded her mouth, drank from its sweet secrets. A fire roared through his body and he dragged one hand down her back, cupping her arse with ungentle force to haul her even closer. Her lower belly pressed against his erection and a bolt of scalding tension shot straight into his balls.
He yanked her harder still to his straining shaft, wanting to feel the base pain of brutal contact. Wanting the hungry ache in his groin to spread to the ravenous ache in his core. He shoved his hand down past her waistband to cup the tight, firm curve of her right arse cheek. Skin to skin.
Frenzied pleasure burned through him at the feel of his flesh on hers and he tore his mouth from her lips, staring down at her.
Oh, Christ. What was he doing? He shouldn’t want her so much. He was out of his mind. Everything about her was a mystery.
As if she sensed the dark turmoil threatening to undo him, she pressed her palms either side of his face and rolled her hips against his. “I know you are confused, Patrick. But don’t be confused about this.”
“This?” He searched her eyes. “This is just sex, right?”
She swallowed. “If that’s what you want.”
Was it? Or did he want more?
He didn’t know. And he didn’t care. Not now. Now, he just wanted to lose himself in his lust, his desire for whoever the hell she was.
“I want you,” he stated. “Now.”
“Done,” she laughed. Lifting one leg, she wrapped it around the back of his thigh until he could feel the heat of her desire. The delicate scent of her arousal slipped into his nose and he groaned, grabbing her knee and yanking her leg higher up his thigh.
His head swam with need, his pulse pounded. If this was how he felt dry fucking her, how would he survive real penetration?
“Is this how you plan to kill me, Death?” The question left him on a ragged growl. “Through denied pleasure?”
A pure white light shimmered in her eyes and she chuckled, tightening her leg muscle to force his hips closer to hers. “Denying you pleasure will never be part of my plan, Patrick Watkins.”
Her answer set fire to his senses. He sank his fingers into her butt cheeks and hauled her from the floor, crossing the room to the large sofa at its center in two strides. She hissed, her sex rubbing the bulge behind his fly with each step he took, her eyes growing clouded with escalating pleasure.
“Who are you, Patrick?” she panted. “And how do you know exactly what I want you to do to me?”
“I don’t have a fucking clue,” he answered on a raw snarl, “and right at this point in time, I don’t give a flying fuck.”
He threw her onto the sofa, her arse hitting the cushioned seat, the backs of her knees slapping against the padded armrest. She scurried backward, stare locked on his face, breasts rising and falling in rapid succession.
His blood roared in his ears, hot, hungry blood that pounded through his body in building power. “I should be scared out of my fucking mind,” he murmured, staring at her. “This attraction I’m feeling for you…this lust, it’s bigger, more powerful than anything I’ve ever experienced.” He shook his head, running his gaze over her. “I should be scared. It can’t be natural.”
“And yet?” she asked, her voice husky.
“And yet it feels natural. It feels right. As if I was created for this, for us. For you.”
She looked up at him. “I promise, Patrick, I will find out what is going on, what is drawing us together like this, I will. But for now…”
She rose up onto her knees and reached for his fly. His breath caught in his throat as she popped the button and lowered the zipper, her eyes holding his.
His erection sprang free of his jeans, and he bit back a low groan.
Holy fuck, this was really happening.
“You go commando,” she stated, approval in her voice.
“It saves on the washing,” he answered truthfully, his