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“That’s Morganna for you.” He watched as her gaze flickered over him, touching him with curious, hungry eyes before being forced away, staring at every point in the room, except him.
Damn, he loved how shy she could be. How sweet she was. How prickly she could get. He figured he had loved Raven all her life in one form or another. But what he felt for her now consumed him. The plan he had set in motion tonight was risky, and he admitted it, he was taking a chance, but he was damned tired of waiting for her to realize how much they meant to each other.
She was watching him warily now, biting her lower lip nervously as her gaze flickered over him again.
“You’re acting like I’m going to pounce on you, Raven.” He moved closer to her. He wanted to touch her so damned bad, it was killing him.
Stopping in front of her, he reached out, one finger twining in a tight curl that fell across her shoulder. Her breath caught, a flush washing over her face.
“Aren’t you?” she snapped. Fiery, accusing, Raven was nobody’s fool. She might be stubborn, but she was smart as hell. “Every time I turn around, you’re trying to grope me.”
He spread his hands out innocently. “I’m just standing here talking to you, baby. If I was going to pounce, you’d be flat on your back on that couch rather than standing there deliberately provoking me. And as I recall that last kiss, you were groping right back.”
It had been right after his last assignment. He had returned home a week late to find Raven sleeping on the couch, having evidently waited with Morganna until he arrived.
How was he supposed to resist her? Years of fantasies, of aching hunger, and there she was, a temptation to his body and to his heart that he couldn’t ignore.
She hadn’t sniped at him or tried to run from him. Sleepy, seductive, she had lifted to him, her lips opening eagerly for his kiss when he knelt beside the couch. He would have had her in his bed minutes later if Morganna hadn’t interrupted them when she did. That kiss, her eagerness for him, and the soft breathy sound of her voice as she whispered her pleasure had sealed her fate. She was his woman.
She frowned darkly. He frowned right back at her.
“I am not provoking you,” she informed him imperiously. “You’re tired and disagreeable. And I really think you should head on to bed and go to sleep.”
She wasn’t running from him, but he could see the indecision in her eyes, the sweep of arousal and emotions filling her. She wasn’t going to back down easily, and she wouldn’t give in without a fight.
“I should be,” he agreed, his voice rough. “I really should be, but this is a hell of a lot more important right now.”
His head dipped down before she could move, if she intended to move. Her eyes widened, her lips parted, and he caught the gasp that escaped her throat.
Bombs exploded in his head. Fire rushed along his nervous system until it centered in his aching cock. She was ambrosia. She was the elixir of life.
His arms circled her, tight, as he restrained his need to eat her alive. His lips moved over hers, his tongue spearing deep as a shattered moan escaped her throat and her hands tightened at his waist before moving to his back.
He could taste coffee, mint, and woman and the alternating flavors exploded on his senses, going to his head like the strongest narcotic. Reno bent over her, surrounding her; he wanted to draw her into every cell of his body as her lips opened, her tongue met his, and his senses flamed. Sweet, velvet heat. The taste of her went to his head, the feel of her causing his erection to pulse and pound with a hunger barely leashed.
“Reno?” Her voice was dazed as his lips slid to her cheek, to her neck.
Her head fell back as his teeth raked her shoulder, her body becoming liquid, pliant. His. He allowed his hands to move, rather than holding her to him, roaming her back instead, pulling at the short length of the skirt until one hand could smooth over her bare buttock. Bare? Fuck!
His hand clenched on the curve as she trembled against him, a thin wail of pleasure escaping her throat a second before she jerked out of his arms.
* * *
“That was damned unfair.” Raven stared back at him, shock and pleasure racing through her system as she fought to make sense of the impulses that still pounded through her body. He made her drunk, made her greedy for more of his kiss, his touch.
Oh God. That kiss. Her hand rose to her lips, her fingers feeling the swollen curves as her shoulder tingled from the rasp of his teeth.
Dammit, she was supposed to be denying him, not falling into his arms like a wimpy sex kitten. But it never failed; he touched her and she melted. She lost her mind, her sanity, her ability to remember the fact that Reno would never let her escape with any part of her heart intact.
He was watching her with blatant hunger. There was no apology, no attempt to hide the lust that burned in his eyes and darkened the features of his face.
“Who said I was going to be fair?” he growled, coming closer, looming over her as she backed into the entertainment center behind her. “Raven, are you wearing panties?”
Heat flooded her face, her body.
“Yes!” she gasped. “I am. Dammit, Reno, you aren’t supposed to kiss me like that.”
Like he was starving for the taste of her, ready to consume her at a moment’s notice. How was a girl supposed to keep her sanity when a man stripped her control with no more than the touch of his lips?
