Where Winter Finds You (Black Dagger Brotherhood #18)- J.R Ward Page 0,59

And as soon as they got to the top landing, he shut the stairwell’s door and killed the lights with his mind—and then he drew her over to the warm, flickering glow of the fireplace. Their mouths met again, and he eased her down on the soft rug, taking his time with the descent.

Or, rather, forcing himself to.

He wanted to tear her pants off with his fangs. Rip her panties down her thighs. Mount her like a beast. Then he wanted to flip her over and take her from behind. And after that? He wanted every position physically possible, all over the bedroom floor, the bed, the bathroom—

“Oh, shit.” He whipped his head around toward a cold draft that he hadn’t paid any attention to. “Sorry, let me go close that.”

Vampires could manipulate a lot of things with their minds, but not in a house that had been secured by Vishous. The Brother would have coppered the hell out of those puppies so that no one could use their mental powers to get in if the illusion shutters were up.

His female tugged at his shirt. “I’ll will it down—”

“It’s manual operation only.” He kissed her lips quick. “Don’t go anywhere.”

“You do not have to worry about that. Trust me.”

Springing to his feet, Trez tore off like there was a drowning victim in the damn tub. And as he slammed the sill back in place, all he could think of was getting back—

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror that ran across the wall above the two sinks. He stopped dead, even though he’d rather have just kept the fuck going—and not only because his female was waiting for him.

His eyes were too wide. His face was flushed and sallow at the same time. His breathing was way too heavy.

Trez hated everything about himself in that moment. And the only thing he despised more was his life. iAm was right. He was out of control, careening into something he didn’t have the emotional capacity for—

It’s fine, he mouthed to the image directly across from himself. I’m fine. We’re fine. It’s all fine.

With a resolve born of desperation, he looked away. Then he strode away. Reentering the bedroom, he—

Okay. Stopping dead again. But at least this time it was for a good reason.

A fine reason. A reaaaaally fucking fine one.

“I thought I would try this one more time,” his female drawled from over in front of the fire.

She was lying exactly where he had left her, on that rug, before the hearth—but she had taken off her clothes. All of them. And she was sprawled with the kind of abandon that made a male lose track of time: Her head was back, her hair spilling out around her, her neck a graceful line from her perfect chin to her collarbones… and her breasts were caressed by the firelight, the nipples peaked and pink, the swells creamy and full.

Trez licked his lips. And kept on looking. Her stomach was a gentle drift to her hips, and the cleft of her sex was nestled in thighs he was desperate to part. Her legs were long and graceful—and given the way they churned?

If her scent wasn’t already making it clear she was ready to receive him, then the anticipation in the way they rubbed together was a big damn tip.

“You should only ever wear firelight,” he groaned as his hand went to his throbbing arousal.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

As exposed as Therese was, as naked and vulnerable as she was, she felt nothing but free. There was no embarrassment, no anxiousness, no concern that she was less than perfect or anything less than what Trez would want. And that was when she knew how deeply she trusted him.

When he started forward, she put her hand up. “Wait.”

He stopped on a dime. And to reward him, she sensuously rolled over onto her stomach. Laying her head down on her arm, she moved one of her legs up the other… then pivoted her hips, flashing her ass toward him.

“Fuck…” he breathed.

“I thought you should see the back, too.”

“Just as good as the front, let me tell you.”

“Perhaps you’d like to join me? And I’m not only talking about the horizontal.”

Trez took the hint, yanking his silk shirt out of the waistband of his pressed slacks. Then, even though it was no doubt expensive, he tore the halves apart, buttons flying free and twinkling like falling stars. Holy… crap. Yes, what was