Master of Desire (Merlin's Legacy #6) - Angela Knight Page 0,36

curtained alcove. Helena, almost vibrating from being in an enclosed space breathing Conal’s scent, grabbed a fistful of his shirt and hauled him in for a kiss.

With a low growl, he fell against her, one hand landing on her ass, the other tangling in her curls. Their mouths met, mashed, tongue swirling in hungry lust. As if from a great distance she heard Liam say, sounding amused, “I’ll… Keep an eye out for gating werewolves.” With that, he fell blessedly silent. She might have felt more grateful, but her entire universe had narrowed to Conal’s hand as it slid beneath her short top to close over her breast through her bra.

Her own hand sank into his hair, gathering a fistful of cool black silk. The other gripped his shirt, twisting the soft fabric, tightening. Something ripped, and she felt the prick of her own claws against her palms as the shirt ripped away from his broad chest.

“Couch,” Conal growled. “No way I’m going to make it to the bed.” They barely made it to the couch. The taste of his mouth sharpened her libido into a razor. When she started to drop onto the couch, something held her suspended. Rumbling against his mouth, she realized Conal gripped her top. She lifted both arms and let it slide off, dropping to the sectional’s soft charcoal leather.

He threw her shirt aside, looking down at her with eyes that glowed. Conal wore only part of his shredded shirt now. All that was left was one shoulder, which had been trapped under the diagonal sheath of Darkbane.

His eyes burned wide and wild and violet, and his facial tattoo glowed against his cheekbone as if the sword were reacting to his heightened emotion. Conal had to struggle against the press of his erection to open his fly. When he managed to free himself, relief flashed across his face, though he never took his eyes from her.

Heat riding her cheekbones, Helena toed off her sandals, grabbed the waistbands of both her panties and her cotton pants, and stripped them down her legs.

Conal lifted one foot and then the other, balancing with Sidhe grace as he pulled off first one shoe and then the other before tossing them across the room. Something fell to the floor and broke, but he didn’t even look around, too busy stripping down his pants. Then he was naked except for the shreds of shirt and Darkbane’s scabbard.

Helena was tempted to remove Liam’s holster, but she didn’t want to take the time. And besides, she was feeling paranoid after the scene at Cornucopia.

For a moment, Conal stood there, his eyes hot on hers, wearing only the scabbard and part of that shirt, all sculpted muscle in the morning city light streaming in through the wall of windows. Hs cock jutted from the muscled plane of his abdomen, and hunger rippled through her in a burning wave.

He started to kneel, and Helena raised her hands, only to realize they were tipped in translucent claws. I’m way too close to shifting. So she touched him with exquisite care, drifting her fingers over the strong, warm planes of his body, unable to resist the temptation even as she worried about his reaction.

Conal caught sight of her talons, but he didn’t flinch. Instead, his eyes met hers, seem to read her concern. “Fur or no fur, you’re nothing like those bastards. I could never think otherwise.” His mouth crashed down on hers, hot, wet silk, and one hand closed over her bare breasts. She must have taken her bra off, though she had no idea when.

Their tongues circled, stroked and tasted. His mouth tasted of mint as he growled against hers in a deep rumble of arousal. His hand cupped her, thumb flicking back and forth over one aching nipple. Helena shivered as arousal pulsed through her blood in tidal waves. Conal’s hair fell across her arms as she cradled him, fingers held clear of his skin, her gums aching. Exploring with a tongue, Helena discovered her incisors had lengthened into fangs, and reminded herself not to bite.

Conal’s mouth left hers, and he kissed his way down the line of her jaw and the curve of her neck, his thumb stroking back and forth across one painfully erect nipple. Hunger had her arching against him, and she heard herself whispering pleas. She’d hoped the mindless lust would be a little less intense since they’d made love. Guess not.

His mouth closed over her nipple, and the wet