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The late-afternoon sun barely penetrated the thick trees, even with their leaf loss. Through the silent underbrush there seemed to be some sort of path she was following. He upped his pace, almost to a near run, and came to a rather painful jarring halt when he burst into a small clearing.
Azaiel ran his hands through the tangled mess of hair atop his head as everything inside him liquefied into red-hot need. Rowan stood, not more than ten feet from him, naked as the day she was born. Her clothes were thrown about as if she’d tugged them off in a frenzy. He saw one running shoe, but as for the other, who knew.
Green grass, well fed by the patch of sunlight allowed into the treeless space, worshipped at her feet, and all around the vibrant colors of fall drifted in the air, cl
ung to the trees, and blew by in the wind.
He caught her scent once more, that heady mix of lemongrass . . . as well as the musky odor of passion. Her skin was creamy, perfect, and stretched taut over young, lithe limbs. And her ass, that rounded, perfect, delectable mound of flesh teased him as she stood with her back to Azaiel, her long crimson hair billowing softly around her shoulders.
He didn’t know he moved, yet seconds later found himself behind her. So close that if he wanted to, he could reach out and touch her. And Lord knew he wanted to. He wanted to touch all of her.
Rowan turned her head to the side, lashes downcast, mouth parted. She shuddered, and his gaze settled upon her slender hands. They were at her sides, and she slowly opened and closed them as the silence between them grew.
Goose bumps rushed across her flesh, and though he tried to be strong, he couldn’t help himself. His gaze raked over every inch of her, and his hands rose of their own volition, wanting to touch, to caress, and to knead.
“You must be cold.” His voice was hoarse, and he barely got the words out.
“I’m hot.” She shook her head and licked her lips. “So incredibly hot.” She lifted the heavy fall of hair from her neck and exhaled. Azaiel saw the mark on her flesh—the mark put there by Mallick, and everything inside him stilled.
He traced the simple lines first with his eyes—then with his fingers. Such need rose in him that he was glad she couldn’t see that his fingers trembled. It was a need to protect, a need to touch and to make her forget.
“I won’t let him win, Rowan,” he said hoarsely.
She let the curtain of hair fall back until it covered his hand and the mark. She turned then, her mouth parted, her eyes misty with desire. She grabbed his hand, and he swallowed thickly as she rested his large palm against the swell of her breast.
He was helpless to look away. Helpless to do anything but stay with her and drink in her beauty—her essence and spirit.
“I don’t want to talk about Mallick.” She held his hand against her breast, shuddered, and moved his palm over her hard, turgid nipple. “I want to feel you, Azaiel.” She glanced up at him, and the world narrowed into one hot-as-hell, sexy redhead. “All of you.”
Her other hand sought out his cock, and he gritted his teeth, sweat beading along his forehead as she slowly rubbed the long, hard length of him. Even through his jeans the sensation was erotic, and he strained beneath her touch.
“I want to feel you inside me.” She paused, breathing heavy as a slow, seductive smile claimed lips meant for kissing, for licking and sliding. “Hard, and full and passionate. Do you understand?”
He nodded, mesmerized by the candy red mouth. By the tongue that slid over it and by the hand that gripped him between his legs. She rose on tiptoes, her arousal in his nostrils, her soft flesh in his hands. “I don’t want to make love. We can do that later. What I want is for you to fuck me, Azaiel.” She slid her mouth across his neck, licked her way up to his mouth, and paused, her breath a whisper of need. “Right now.”
His hand shot up and buried itself in the thick ropes of hair at her neck. Azaiel leaned down, no longer in control. He was on fire and for a second thought he saw a hint of wariness in her eyes.
“I’m on the cusp of no return, little witch. If you want this to go no further, then I suggest you gather your things and leave now while you still can.” His eyebrows furled, and he bared his teeth like an animal. “You have no idea what you’ve awakened. Of the passions that run beneath my skin.” He traced her lips with his forefinger, sinking deep into her wet warmth. “It’s been so long,” he whispered.
She licked his fingers, then yanked her head back so she could speak. “If that’s your idea of dissuading me from what we both want”—she smiled as she rubbed her breasts against him—“you’re doing a shitty job.”
So many emotions warred inside him. So many voices yelling retreat, yet as he gazed down into her face he knew he’d lost. Hell, he’d given in the moment he’d followed her into the forest.
He bent low and claimed her mouth, his tongue going deep in an aggressive move. He tasted every inch of her and went back for more. Rowan swayed, and his hand slipped behind her, traveled down her back until it rested against the round, feminine swell that was there just for him. He splayed his fingers across her ass and pulled her in tight so that his erection was flush against her soft belly.
Shit, but she felt good in his hands.
She broke the kiss, and he stared down at her swollen lips and the pink tongue that peeked from between them. She wriggled slightly and stepped back, legs spread so that his eyes nearly popped when he took a second to take all of her in.
Rowan’s breasts were perfect. Not overly large, but soft, and round, and meant for his hands. Her dusky rose nipples were hard and stood at attention. His attention. He decided he would suck and lick them until she came.
His mouth watered at the thought.
Her hands lingered near her waist, and his eyes touched every inch of her, caressing gently rounded hips and long, sexy legs that were spread. When he settled upon the narrow thatch of crimson hair between them, his cock tightened even more, and he exhaled a shot of heated air.
She was wet, glistening in the waning sunlight. So ready for him.
“You are magnificent,” he managed to say, as his gaze traveled back up, and they locked eyes.
