Lover Reborn (Black Dagger Brotherhood #10) - J. R. Ward Page 0,157

to a proper bed in the big house was simply too much to bother with.

Whilst he strode off with her captured like a prize, she stared up at his face. His brows were down hard, his mouth parted to reveal his fangs, his coloring high with anticipation. He wanted this. Needed this.

And there was no going back.

Not that she would have chosen to. She loved the way he made her feel in this moment.

Although she supposed it was treacherous to take compliment in the desperation with which he took possession of her. He was still in love with his dead mate. Then again, he did want her—and that was enough. That was, mayhap, all she would ever have—and yet, as she had told him, so much more than she could ever have prayed for.

Upon his will, the glass door to the pool’s entry hall opened wide for them, and as it eased shut in their wake, she heard its lock slip into place. Then they were traveling fast through the anteroom, and rounding the corner into the pool proper, the warmth of that thick, humid air making her body even more languid—

In a coordinated sequence, the overhead lights dimmed and the bluegreen glow of the pool gathered in intensity, casting an aquamarine illumination over everything.

“No going back,” Tohrment said, as if giving her one last chance to end this.

When she merely nodded at him, he growled again and then put her down on one of the wooden benches, laying her on her back. He was true to his word. He didn’t wait or hesitate; he arched over her and fused their mouths, bringing his chest to her own, positioning his legs in between hers.

Wrapping her arms around the nape of his neck, she held him close as his lips moved against hers and his tongue entered her. The kissing was glorious and consuming, to the point where she didn’t notice he was undoing the tie of her robe.

And then his hands were upon her. Through the linen shift, his palms burned as they stroked her breasts and continued lower. Parting her thighs even farther for him, she pulled up the sheath and got what she wanted, his touch going to her core, massaging her, bringing her to that knife edge of release—but no farther.

“I want to kiss you,” he growled against her mouth. “But I can’t wait.”

She thought he was kissing her?

Before she could respond, he lifted his hips from her and worked with rough urgency at the front of his leathers.

And then something hot and blunt was bumping … nudging … slipping against her.

No’One arched up and called his name—and that was when he took her: As her voice echoed to the high ceiling, his body claimed hers, pushing inside, making its way, hard yet satin soft.

Tohrment’s head dropped down beside hers as they were joined, and then he stopped moving altogether—which was good: The sense of stretching and accommodating his size bordered on painful—not that she would have traded it for the world.

Groaning deep in his throat, his body started to move, slowly at first, then with greater speed, his hips swinging against hers as he gripped her outer thighs and squeezed. With the great wave of passion o’ertaking them both, every sensation was magnified, her mind at once fully present and totally blown away by the manner in which he dominated her without hurting her.

As the rhythm bordered on out of control, No’One held on to him for dear life, her physical form soaring even as it was pinned down under his, her heart shattering and being made whole in the same instant as the pleasure suddenly coalesced and then snapped. Indeed, her orgasm had her core gripping him and relenting in an alternating rhythm, the release entirely different from any of her previous ones—more intense, longer lasting. And it seemed to pitch him off the edge and into his own wild contractions, his pelvis shoving in and then jerking against her.

It all seemed to last forever, but as with any flight one took, they eventually eschewed the freedom of the sky and returned to earth.

Awareness was a gradual, unsettling burden.

He was still dressed, and so was she, the robe as yet draped upon her shoulders and arms. And the bench was cutting into her shoulder blades and the back of her head. And the air around her was not as warm as the passion had been.

How strange, she thought. Even though they had shared so much