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Her body suddenly had a mind of its own. Her arms latched around his neck, her fingers dug into the thick, wild mane of his hair, and she was dragging him closer.
It had been so long. So long since a man had touched her body, since the need for touch, other than Nathan’s, had even been a thought in her mind. And now, it was exploding inside her.
A sharp, furious cry tore from her throat as his tongue pierced the seam of her lips, licking at hers before drawing back. She pulled at his hair harder, nipped his lower lip, bit at it. Within a breath she was flattened between the door and his body and it was all over but the hunger and the want driving inside her.
One hard hand tangled in her hair, jerked her head back. He wasn’t easy, and she didn’t want easy. She wanted the burn and the force and the impossible demand rising between them.
Her knees tightened on powerful lean flanks, her hips moved, writhed against his, driving his cock harder against her through the layers of denim separating them.
She heard him growl something, groan something. His hand tightened in her hair and he dragged her head back farther, his lips at her chin, her jaw, nipping and licking.
“Ride me,” he snarled at her ear, his beard rough against the lobe as she twisted against him. “This is what I want, Sabella. Right here.” One hand gripped her butt, holding her closer as she ground herself on his erection.
The seam of her jeans bit into her clit, the spike of sensation making her crazy for more. She was wet and growing wetter. She could feel her clit swelling, her sex heating and growing slick, saturated with her need.
“Ride me, Sabella,” he bit out again. “Oh yeah, baby, rub against me.” He was rubbing against her, his hips thrusting against her, digging his flesh harder between her thighs.
She lowered her hands and gripped the material of his T-shirt, dragging it up his back. She had to touch. She had to feel his flesh beneath her hands. She whimpered as his lips came back to hers, as she pulled and jerked at the material until he suddenly shifted, drawing his upper body back just enough to tear the shirt over his head before he was back to her. Kissing her. One hand in her hair, the other kneading her ass.
Oh yes. This was what she needed. The heat of his body seemed to sink into hers. She could feel him burning against her palms as she let them stroke over his shoulders. She could feel a crisscrossed roughness, the scars she had known marked his body. Her nails scraped over his flesh before he nipped at her lips again and she dug her nails into his flesh with a cry and held on.
Because they were moving. The world was twisting, tilting, until she felt her back meet the leather of the couch and heard the thump of his duffel bag as he pushed it to the floor and came over her.
His lips never left hers. He didn’t give her a chance to think and she didn’t want one. His hands gripped her shirt, tore it out of her jeans, and before she could process the action he had it and her bra above her breasts.
A hard, peaked nipple felt his beard first. It scraped over the tip, drawing her back into a arch a second before his lips brushed it, then his mouth took it.
His hips pressed harder into the vee of her thighs. He rode her mercilessly, taking her despite the material separating them, driving her closer to a brink she hadn’t known in years. Her hips lifted to him, writhing back, rubbing into him as her head dug into the cushions of the couch and her fingers dug into his shoulders, holding him closer.
It was so good. So hot and liquid. Little starbursts were exploding before her eyes, sensations ripping across her nerve endings.
“Now.” He jerked back, grabbed her head roughly and lowered his chest to her. “Touch me, damn you. Touch me, Sabella.”
She bit him. Her teeth buried into hard, thick muscle before the wildness of the act took over. She nipped at the hard flat discs of his male nipples, licked at them, sucked at one. Her hands roamed over his back, only dimly acknowledging the scars there.
His hips jerked against her, ground against her. And she wanted those jeans off. Wanted hers off. She wanted the thick, heavy length she could feel tearing into her. Thrusting and driving her past the point of pleasure or pain.
The blood was rushing through her body, pounding through her head. She was close. So close. She bit at his chest again, feeling him stiffen, hearing his curse.
Then he was pulling away from her, jerking back, his savage gaze slicing to the back door of the apartment as he jerked her bra and T-shirt over her breasts.
And still, she heard the pounding.
“Belle? Belle Malone? It’s Sheriff Grayson. Belle. Open the door or I’m going to open it myself.”
Noah raised her to a sitting position as she tried to pull her shattered senses back into some semblance of order. She watched as, still shirtless, Noah stomped across the apartment, into the kitchen, to the door that led to the side of the garage and the deck.
The scarring on his back wasn’t atrocious, but it was painful to see. On his left shoulder was a tattoo, a black sun pierced by a scarlet sword. It looked as tough and sexy as the rest of him. And just as dangerous.
She could feel a chill washing over her now. Icy reality flooding her system as Rick Grayson stepped into the kitchen, his brown gaze finding her immediately as he kept a careful distance between himself and Noah.
“You okay, Belle?” His eyes were narrowed, his hand resting carefully on the butt of his gun as Noah closed the door carefully.
Sabella stared at Noah. His eyes were wilder than before, almost lighter, terrifying, lit with an inner fire that had her heart racing in excitement and in panic.
“Belle? Why don’t you come on outside with me, talk to me for a bit.” Rick’s eyes hadn’t left Noah.
Sabella shook her head before pushing her fingers through her hair and giving a hard, mocking laugh. Rick had talked to her like that at the funeral.
