Wild Fire
Page 50

“Don’t act like you don’t know that. I knew better. Seducing a woman doesn’t always involve taking them to bed. I couldn’t stop myself, and look what my lack of control did to us.” For a moment there was naked pain on his face. “It was bad enough knowing I’d betrayed you, but to find out that before her death my mother knew what I’d done . . .” He trailed off, shaking his head. The mask—and resolve—slipped back into place. “When I take you to bed it will be because you want us there, not because your cat is screaming for relief.”
She flushed all over again, but her pride didn’t matter as much as his words. She held them close to her heart, for the first time feeling as if her mixed up world could come right again. Was it only her cat that wanted him? She didn’t think so, but she wasn’t sure, and Conner was right, she had to be certain. It made things easier knowing he hadn’t totally rejected her.
His hands framed her face, his thumb sliding over her lips as his gaze burned into hers. “You’re mine, Isabeau. You’ll always be mine. Make no mistake about it. Whether you choose to forgive me and give us a second chance, or you don’t, you’ll be my only.”
Her heart stopped. Just stopped. She could feel it there in her chest, twisting tight and then beginning a frantic pounding. For once her cat stayed quiet and she was allowed that perfect moment. She looked up into his face, a face that was etched forever into her mind—into her soul—and knew she was lost all over again. “Why didn’t you come after me?” That had hurt more than she could say.
“I made up my mind to come,” he admitted. “Six months ago. I knew I had to try to explain when I really had no excuse. I had a job to do, Isabeau, and the moment I realized I was slipping, taking us both in too deep, I should have shut it down. I’d like to say I didn’t because the kidnap victims mattered so much to me, but I’ve thought a lot about that and it isn’t the truth. Once I was with you, once I had gone over the line, there was no going back for me. I couldn’t find the strength to do the right thing and give you up.”
His words were stark. Raw. And they were truth. She saw it in his burning eyes, heard it in his velvet voice and smelled it with a leopard’s acute sensory system. She could only stare at him, trying not to let the happiness blossoming in the pit of her stomach and spreading throughout her body with absolute joy show on her face. Her tongue touched her lower lip and instantly his gaze was there, following the small movement.
She held still. Absolutely still. She even held her breath. He’d rejected her advances earlier—she wasn’t making a fool of herself a second time, even when he’d assured her their time together hadn’t all been a lie. The truth washed over her and into her, bringing such relief her legs trembled. Or maybe it was arousal teasing along her thighs and sending her temperature soaring.
He lowered his head. Slowly. Waiting for her reaction. She stood still beneath his hands, watching his gaze drift possessively over her face. Watching the way his eyes changed, going leopard, blazing with hunger. His mouth was everything. Seductive. Heart-stopping. Perfect. And then his lips touched hers. A mere brush. Her stomach flipped. Her womb clenched. Liquid heat gathered. His mouth moved again over hers, a small back and forth movement designed to tempt her—to drive her wild. And it did.
Her breasts ached, nipples peaking into two tight buds, straining against the material of her shirt in an effort to get closer to his heat. His tongue licked her lower lip. Savoring her taste. His teeth nipped, and the bite of pain sent another spasm crashing through her core. He made a sound, a low growl in his throat that drenched her immediately in need.
“I missed you every single second,” he whispered. “I dreamt of you when I could close my eyes and most of the time I couldn’t sleep with needing you.”
He kissed her, a long, drugging kiss that intoxicated every one of her senses. When he pulled away, it was to press his forehead against hers as he drew in a harsh breath. “I love the sound of your laughter. You taught me so many things, Isabeau, about what matters. When you find everything and then lose it . . .”
His mouth found hers again, over and over, each kiss more demanding than the last, more filled with hunger, so that he was nearly devouring her, sweeping her away on a tidal wave of desire. He’d always been able to do that, remove every vestige of sanity so that she was no thinking person, but a creature of pure feeling. She’d never known she could be passionate or sexy until Conner had come into her life, and everything had changed—she had changed.
His fingers bunched in her hair, pulling her head back, anchoring her in place, while his gaze burned a brand over her. Lines of passion etched deep in his face, dark lust glittered in his eyes. Her heart jumped. Another rush of heat spread like liquid fire. Her knees went weak. She’d always been susceptible to his sensual appetites, but now his hunger was a drumbeat in her veins.
Her breath hissed out as his mouth descended again. The gentleness was gone, replaced by raw passion. He took her response in his confident, dominant way. His hands were strong, his body hard, the heat rising between them like the steam in the forest. Her body went boneless, soft, melting into his. He growled, a low, vibrating note that sent fire licking like tongues over her skin. His hands slid down her spine to the curve of her bottom and he lifted her. Instinctively she wrapped her legs around his waist, locking her ankles.
The vee between her legs fit tightly over the thick bulge, welding them together. All the while his mouth ate hungrily at hers. Her world tunneled—narrowed to just Conner. His hands. His heat. The taste and texture of him. She was aware of every ragged breath, of the bite of his teeth, of the roughness of his caresses, even the feel of his skin beneath the material that kept her from touching him.