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“You want me like that, Chay, don’t you?” He lifted her shirt, flattened his hand against the bare skin of her stomach and watched her eyes.
It was Chaya’s eyes that held her secrets. There, they flickered in those honeyed depths, the soft golden brown color warming him no matter her mood.
“Bare, Chay. ” His jaw clenched at the hunger. “I want to pump inside you and feel you reaching for me. Milking me. That sweet hot body taking my seed and nourishing it. ”
Her face flushed instantly, hot, as her eyes flickered with fear and with dreams.
“I want to watch your stomach grow round with my baby. I want to lay my head against it, feel our child move within you. ”
She trembled, shuddered, and her eyes darkened as they always did when she began to surrender to him.
He wanted that surrender.
Before his knees gave out on him he swept her up in his arms, ignoring her little cry of protest and he carried her through the boathouse to the stairs. Up the rounded staircase, to the bedroom, to the big bed that awaited them, the sun-drenched warmth that welcomed them.
“We can’t just decide to make a baby. ” She was breathing hard, rough as he set her on her feet and pushed her blazer over her shoulders.
“Of course we can,” he crooned, knowing, as he had always known, how much she loved that sound. When his voice roughened, deepened. She shivered in response to it. A sound he had never known how to make, had never given another woman.
“It’s completely irresponsible,” she protested, but it was a moan, filled with surrender as his hands stroked down her arms then gripped the hem of her shirt.
“It’s every dream I’ve ever had,” he told her as he tore the shirt from her body and cupped those pretty breasts as they filled the lace of her bra. “I want to watch you nurse our child here. ” He kissed the full mounds as they spilled over the cups of her bra. “Chay, you know you want it, don’t you, baby? Bound to me? You won’t be able to just walk away anymore. Think of it, sweetheart. No more reasons to run, and every reason to lie in my arms night after night. ”
It was her nightmare and he knew it. He used it shamelessly, because he also knew it was her weakness. His Chay. So tough, so determined to never lose again, to never hurt as she had hurt before. To never risk having what she cherished most taken from her.
She had run from him, because she couldn’t face losing him. He’d figured that out about her. Knew it about her. Just as she surely knew he wouldn’t allow her to run any longer if she ever returned to Somerset.
The running was over.
“Natches, this isn’t a good idea. ” She was thinking. He could feel her thinking.
His lips moved to hers. He sipped at her lips as a breathless moan passed them. He stroked them with his tongue as he nearly tore his shirt from his own body. He caught that lush lower curve between his lips and laved it, nipped at it, and watched her lashes flutter over eyes gone dark with hunger.
No thinking right now, he decided. That sharp little mind of hers needed to rest; it needed to be stroked and loved, tempted and teased. And he was just the man to do it.
He loosened her belt, aware of the weight of her weapon at her hip, and almost grinned at the thought of it. His woman was a tough little warrior. She would walk by his side. She wouldn’t put up with his moods, and she’d tell him like it was. Always. The thought of it turned him on even more. She was a fitting mate for the darkness inside him, because she lightened it.
He released her jeans, slid the zipper down, and, as he released her lips, slid his palm beneath her panties to the sweet, rich flesh beyond.
So hot it almost burned. Swollen, slick with her sweet juices. His mouth watered at the thought of tasting her again. Of burying his tongue inside her, and lapping at her like hot, delicate candy. Like nectar. Like life itself.
“There, baby, let me have you,” he urged as she shook, trembled, her nails digging into his shoulders as he held her to him. “Remember how good it is? How hot?”
He worked her jeans and panties over her hips, careful to keep in contact with the wet folds between her thighs, his finger caressing, his palm grinding against her clit.
And she was burning for him. Her hips shifted, moving against his hand, grinding her clit against his hand as he eased her to the bed.
Her cry of protest flamed through him as he moved his hand, but the taste of her exploded against his tongue as he pressed a kiss against the swollen little nubbin of her clit.
As he kissed, licked her gently, he worked her boots from her feet and finished undressing her. When she was soft and hot and naked, stretched across his bed and immersed in her arousal, he paused long enough to jerk his boots off and finish undressing himself. When he turned back to her, his sensual little kitten was on her knees, gold eyes glittering with hunger now, her features flushed, desire raging in her eyes.
This was the woman he dreamed of. The woman who had taken him to heaven that night so long ago.
His head went back as she came over him, her lips on his, her hands sliding over his damp shoulders, nails raking as he ran his hands up her back and prepared to hold on for the ride.
He remembered Chaya, wild and hungry, too long ago. He had ached for that woman, needed her as he’d needed nothing else, tempted and teased her, and here she was. The balm to the wounds that had festered inside his soul.
Chaya felt Natches ease back on the bed for her, felt his hard, muscular body laid out for her, hers for the taking, and it was like coming home. Like being in the cold and then sinking in front of a fire that filled the soul.
