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Jutting her hip out, she fell back onto one foot. The gesture was feminine and fierce. “Not good enough for you, Mikkelsen?”
“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he retorted huskily, finding an infinite joy in the return of that simple humor that had always colored their exchanges.
A blush darkened her cheeks. “Also, it might help us figure out one big thing.”
His other hand found her hip now. He spread his fingers around, until the tips of his fingers touched the upper curve of her bottom. The more he touched her, the more he wanted her. “And what’s that?”
“This tension between us... It’s very possible that it’s just an echo of the past. Of what we once meant to each other.”
His hands lowered to cup the tight curves of her bottom, tugging her even closer while she peppered kisses soft as butterfly wings all over his jaw. Not a lover’s kisses but something more. Something that unraveled him bit by bit.
“Who knows? Maybe this kiss will be so bad that we can happily settle into a pattern of co-parenting and friendship and—”
Christian slammed his mouth down on hers, desperate to swallow away any of the possibilities she’d just spouted off.
She met his kiss with a ferocity that rocked the ground under his feet. And that was saying something for a man who’d lived with a blank mind for eight years. She tasted like the crack of thunder, that charge of electricity in the air, hot like summer’s breeze... And he gorged himself on her.
If he’d thought to call her bluff, to push this bold version of her until it fell away, then he’d have been disappointed.
Her fingers curled in his hair, pulling him closer, and her greediness amplified his own need. Like a harmonic, it zinged between their bodies, between their mouths, between their breaths, one’s desire feeding the other’s. For the first few seconds, their lips clashed in a tangle of teeth and tongues, all the emotions and tension from the last eight years exploding in their faces. They were too hungry for each other, too desperate from the first brush of their mouths for her theory to be true. The fire between them far too easily stoked with an accidental touch for this to be any less raw, less real than it was.
And yet she’d pushed him. Offered this up to break him out of the spiral of anger and grief he’d descended into when he’d realized what he’d missed out on. Reminded him that he had a gloriously abundant life waiting for him, a son, for God’s sake. It was more than he’d dreamed of ever having again.
Stroking his palms over her arched body, he left her mouth to draw a line of kisses along her jaw, to her neck. He licked the pulse at her neck. And then back up again. This time, their kiss was soft, unhurried, brushing and licking and teasing and retreating, a lover’s exploration after the first explosion.
“You provoked me into that, you manipulative minx,” he whispered, tracing the bow shape of her lips with the tip of his tongue, over and over again. Her mouth was a silky whisper against his as he licked at her, her body somehow both leaner and curvier in his hands than he remembered.
Again and again, he brushed and nipped, licked and laved at her mouth, parched for sustenance. Parched for her.
“You know how fond I am of testing theories,” she said, with a smug smile against his mouth.
The press of her lips, the way her tongue tangled with his, the way she’d swept it through his mouth, searching, seeking, as if she wasn’t going to leave even a little bit untouched... She was surer in her caresses than before, audacious about what she wanted.
Everything about this new Priya—bold and assertive and so damned sexy—turned him on. As if she could hear his thoughts, she went up on her toes. He groaned as she notched her hips against his erection in a seeking thrust.
One hand in her hair, he tugged her lower lip with his teeth. Her throaty moan reverberated through him, curling every muscle into readiness. Every thought to keep this under control, of boundaries, of possible consequences, evaporated as pleasure crawled up the back of his thighs. This wasn’t an experiment, this was an explosion, and all he wanted was to burn with her.
Hand on one knee, Christian opened her up farther until she could feel his erection exactly where she needed it. She moaned in sensual delight and sweat coated every inch of his body, almost a fever in his blood. With his other hand, he pushed at her robe. A clinging, silky top bared a taut midriff, her nipples pebbling against the fabric.
Bending his head, Christian licked first one tight knot through the silk, then the other.
She arched into his touch, moaning, panting, her body bowed with tension. He licked, and laved, and nipped as he rolled his hips to give her the downward pressure she needed. Her fingers dipped into his hair again, pulling his head up, up until their lips met.
Pulling her leg up to wrap around his hip, Christian flipped them around until her back met the wall. She fell against it with a loud thud, her mouth still clinging to his. “It’s been so long,” she kept saying, a sob rising through her chest. Christian growled and swept his tongue into her mouth for another taste and she let him be the aggressor now. As if tuned into him and his needs. As if she knew exactly how and what he wanted. And now, he was the one chasing the thrust of her hips. Rolling and grinding his hips into her, her moans egging him on.
She followed his mouth with hers, her body undulating back and forth between him and the wall. He dived in again, locking her hands against the wall, chasing his own release, thrusting into the cradle of her thighs with a force that...
Suddenly she flinched, her body bucking under him. Her cry of pain had Christian jerking away from her. In the haze of lust, it took him a few seconds to realize that something had hit her on the head. Fat tears filled her eyes, as her chest rose and fell.
He looked down to see a heavy picture frame near her feet. They’d been writhing so frantically against the wall that it had fallen off.
Laughter replaced her tears until she was sliding to the floor in an elegant heap.
Breath rushing through him as if he’d gone a couple of rounds in the ring, Christian sank to his knees. Willing himself to be gentle when his heart was thumping away, he clasped her chin. He felt like a mountain man, his hunger uncontainable, too deep. And she was so...slender and delicate and... He shouldn’t have touched her at all.
Sinking to his knees, Christian tipped her chin up. “Pree? Pree, look at me.”
Slowly she opened her eyes, one hand gingerly inching up her forehead. “I’m still seeing stars,” she whispered, her mouth twitching. “You haven’t lost your technique, Mikkelsen.”
