Page 18 of Autumn Ritual

That was the confirmation I needed that I wasn’t going crazy. Was it creepy he’d haunted the lake house? To normal people, sure. But it was quite possibly the sweetest thing I’d ever heard outside a book. I absolutely should not make a move. A sane person would tell him to get packing. But I zeroed in on his lips.

I wet mine again. “Okay, don’t kill me then.”

Reaching to the back of his head, I tugged his neck until my lips reached his. The contact was electric.

He was stiff against me, holding himself back.

I slid my tongue against the seam of his mouth. I pushed for entrance.

With a shudder, he caved.

The kiss was hungry. Hard. Carnal. Our hot breath plumed between us as our tongues clashed.

I whimpered against his mouth, crushing myself to his body. He lifted me in one smooth sweep. Somewhere beside us, the belt clunked against the floor. My glasses tumbled off next. I clamped my thighs around his waist, not seeing where we went. I was too busy kissing him as if my life depended on it.

He’s here.

He held me tightly.

I pushed my hands through his hair. The short strands pricked my fingers. A moment later, the world tilted, and then my back hit something soft. I barely registered the bed beneath me, because his hard frame pressed against mine.

I was trapped.

This was better than being bound to the banister—but that had been good too!

I rocked against him, rubbing myself against the thick bulge between his legs. With a groan, he broke the kiss. His mouth carved a path down my throat, tongue laving my pulse, until his teeth scored my collarbone.

“Mine.” The possessive word was rough against my skin.

I tugged his shirt, pulling it over his head. He moved slightly to let it slip free, and then he was on me again. He tore the straps of my camisole, shoving the material down so that my breasts spilled free. He cupped the right in his hand, thumb stroking the stiff nipple, while his mouth closed over the left.

The contact made me arch off the bed with a cry.

I writhed against him. My body was desperate.

I could be his. If there was more of this, I would be! Come to think of it, I probably didn’t have a choice in the matter. Which, in this moment, seemed pretty damn perfect.

He sucked hard. His teeth sank into the tender flesh and the flat of his tongue stroked my aching nipple, all while his thumb and finger worked the other breast.

Crap…I was going to come again. Just from his touch and dry humping his body.

But that wasn’t good enough.

I reached between us, fumbling for the button and zipper.

His growl of warning didn’t stop me.

I was desperate to feel the velvet of his shaft. The inner muscles of my pussy needed to clench around him more than I needed to breathe! While there was something flickering in the back of my mind, some warning or caution about sex safety, my squirrel brain was finally silent. I was focused on having him. Right the hell now!

Tearing away, he rose above me. His touch skimmed my naked chest, catching the material of my top and pulling it down my waist where he caught my sleeper shorts and panties. They all came off in a vicious tug. I reached for his jeans, but he captured my wrists.

Bringing them to his mouth, he bit the inside of the right, catching my pulse between his lips.

“Angel,” he groaned.

“Please!” I whimpered. Couldn’t he see that I was going to explode if he didn’t get inside me?

He must have sensed it, because he released me. I tore at his jeans, yanking them down. A rough chuckle escaped his lips, and he moved his body to help me. Since I was basically blind without my glasses, and the shadowy room was no help, his cock was blurred. Only the subtle swing of it, heavy and full between his thighs, was visible. Which was a damn shame.