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Nicodemus thought he might very well eat her alive.
He threw his shirt away, then tugged hers off. He peeled the skintight black denim from her endless legs, feeling as delirious at the sight of all that lovely flesh as he had been when she’d done this for him in midair. He reached out and traced her phoenix tattoo again, attuned to the soft sounds she made, the way she caught her breath and then let it out hard as he leaned in close and licked his way over the riot of color.
He took his time. He settled in and followed every line, tasting every part of that magical, mystical creature she’d inked into her skin. When he was done, she was shifting and rolling beneath him as if she couldn’t help herself. As if she was as needy and insane with it as he was.
But it wasn’t enough.
Nicodemus pulled her bra down, one cup at a time, so he could worship each of her breasts in turn. He remembered the thrust of her nipples, the sweet rose of them, but this time he savored each one. He used his tongue and his lips and even the scrape of his teeth, until she was thrashing against the mattress and muttering what sounded like his name. Or perhaps it was an endless stream of something very much like a plea.
Either way, it moved in him like the finest music.
He shifted then, following a meandering path down her abdomen until he reached her pierced navel and could admit, at last, that he liked it. He more than liked it. It made her even sexier, something that he’d have thought impossible. He wanted her—all of her, all of these bright colors and sexy rings—entirely to himself.
The possessiveness wasn’t new. But the simple beauty of her surrender, her body wide open beneath him, quivering for his touch—made him feel like a god. He would do anything for this, he understood then in a way that might have worried him had he allowed himself to consider it, and yet at the same time he doubted he’d ever drink his fill of this woman. He couldn’t see how he’d ever come close.
Mine, he thought again, the way he always did, though this time it felt darker. Hotter. Much more intense.
Because it felt like truth, at last.
When he reached the dainty lace thong that stretched to contain her femininity, her fingers dug into his hair. Hard.
“No.” He only watched her, though he went still, however difficult it might have been. “I want you,” she said again, even more beautiful this time because her voice was so ragged, and he knew he’d done that to her. “Inside me, Nicodemus. Please.”
“Be certain,” he told her, still crouched over her, his mouth a scant inch above that sweet, hot core of hers he longed to taste again. But he didn’t care what she did or what she said, what she let him do at the moment or what she held in reserve, as long as she didn’t stop. Please don’t stop. “This is one among many things you can’t take back.”
Did he imagine her eyes darkened then? But it didn’t matter, because she was moving, rising to her knees to take off the bra he’d only shoved out of the way, then wiggling out of her panties, as well.
“I don’t want to take anything back,” she said huskily, her eyes never leaving his.
And he believed her. God help him, but he believed her.
He reached out and tugged her closer, so they were kneeling together in the center of the bed he’d always imagined would be theirs one day. She kissed him with a passion and a wonder that echoed in him, making him that much wilder, that much closer to losing control.
He sank his hands into her hair and held her where he wanted her, where he could plunder her mouth while her hands worked between them, pulling open his trousers and freeing him. When her hands closed around him, he groaned, resting his forehead against hers. He was too hard. It had been too long. It had been forever.
Still, he let her test the length of him in her palms. Once. Twice. But at that third slide of rough silk and all that ferocious, impossible hunger, he pulled her hands away.
“But I want—”
“You already told me what you want,” he told her, gruff and dark, “and you won’t get it if you keep that up.”
And perhaps he’d gone completely delusional, after all, but the smile she gave him seemed to fill the whole room. And him, too, kicking through the shadows that lurked inside him and letting light into the darkest places—
This was the real danger, he knew. It always had been. He wanted to believe.
Nicodemus stretched out on his back, kicking his trousers off as he went, and pulled her down beside him. Then he pulled one of those long legs of hers up over his hip and took her mouth again, feasting on her as his hands roamed. One anchored in that thick, sweet-smelling hair of hers. The other moved lower, making its way to her core.
