“I like the term making love better. We’ll do that instead.”
Girly names changed nothing. Fucking was still fucking. “Not going to happen. I’d really rather not hurt you, but if you don’t move away, I’m afraid I’ll do just that.”
“No, you won’t,” she said with complete confidence.
Her mouth nibbled at the corner of his, coaxing him to join in and kiss her back. Her breath filled his lungs, making his head spin. He couldn’t think straight when she was kissing him. He needed backup.
“Drake,” he yelled, a little more breathlessly than he’d intended.
“He’s outside with Helen. They’re guarding the house, letting you rest and recover.”
“You’re sure as hell not letting me rest.”
“You’ll rest better after.”
After he’d made her scream his name in climax. After he’d come inside her.
It sounded way too good, too right.
He knew it wasn’t, though. He knew how wrong it would be to claim her like that when he knew the next chance he got, he’d go to his death. Only this time, he’d do it right. He’d go too far away for anyone to find. He’d make sure there was no chance of getting out of it. He’d lock Nika away, drug her, tie her up—something—anything to keep her from following him.
Her mouth settled over his and the ability to think about anything else vanished. The tip of her tongue slid along the seam of his lips, tempting him to open up and let her inside.
If he did, he wouldn’t stop. He knew that. He wasn’t strong enough to come back from an openmouthed, all-out kiss with Nika.
Madoc turned his head, feeling a line of sweat breaking out along his brow.
“I’m too weak for this. I’ve just been poisoned, woman. Have a heart.”
He could feel her smile against his lips. “Don’t worry. I’ll do all the work.”
She was going to kill him. Madoc wasn’t going to need to find a nest of Synestryn. Nika was right here, twisting his insides, making his brain overheat until he knew it would explode.
He locked his lips together tight, refusing her entrance.
Nika sat back, sliding her hands over his chest, down his arm. Her fingers kneaded his muscles, as if enjoying the feel of them. She lifted his right hand and placed it over her breast. “It’s okay if you touch me,” she said.
Madoc let out an involuntary groan of need.
Her nipple beaded up against his palm. His fingers curled in against his will, cupping her. “No. It’s really not.” And yet he couldn’t pull his hand away. He was going to have to cut his arm off to get himself to stop touching her.
Nika smiled down at him. It was a knowing, purely feminine smile filled with the promise of heaven and hell combined.
He stared at her, wondering what she was going to do next. Would she slide his hand under her shirt, or maybe strip out of it so he could see his hand moving over her naked skin?
Oh, yeah. That was definitely what he wanted to do. Naked Nika.
Instead, she started kneading his hand, pressing on all the small muscles he used to grip his sword.
A moan of pure bliss erupted from his lips and his eyes closed as he enjoyed the feel of her fingers massaging him.
A second later, he felt the ring Iain had given him slide from his finger and his world came crashing to an end.
He jackknifed up in the bed, grabbing at the ring, but Nika had flung it across the room, out of sight. “No!” he shouted, but it was too late.
He felt the last leaf of his lifemark complete its fall, felt the last part of his soul’s light wink out, and then a calm sort of numbness descended upon him.
He looked at Nika’s face, saw a flash of worry shine in her blue eyes, but it didn’t matter. She’d done this to him, and now she was going to face the consequences.
Whatever reason he’d had a moment ago to hold back had gone—vanished into oblivion. All that was left was his hard, aching cock and the woman straddling him.
A smile gradually stretched his mouth. “Playtime.”
John had to shove his hands in his pockets to keep himself from reaching for Meghan. She’d laid her clothes near the fire to dry them, and though she’d tried to be discreet and hide them under her damp shirt, he’d seen her lay her panties out, too. Which meant she was bare beneath the loose flannel pants he’d given her.
He’d picked them because they’d shrunk when he’d washed them and were the smallest thing he had. He hadn’t imagined that the green and tan plaid would turn him on nearly as much as it had.
John handed her a mug of hot cocoa and grabbed the blanket off his bed. Maybe if he covered her up, he’d be able to keep his thoughts where they belonged and off her body.
Her blond hair was short and damp along the tips where it had gotten wet in the shower. It clung to her neck, baring her throat. The neckline of his sweatshirt gaped, showing off the delicate line of her collarbones. For one insane moment, he wanted to lean forward and press an openmouthed kiss along the smooth skin between her neck and shoulder.
He wondered if she had a bra on under that sweatshirt, or if every time he wore it from now on, he’d think about the fact that her bare nipples had grazed the fabric sliding against his chest.
Meghan curled her legs under her and accepted the blanket with a thankful smile. “So, what brought you out in the snow tonight?” she asked.
John wasn’t going to tell her about his odd dreams. He didn’t want her thinking he was some kind of lunatic. Instead, he lied. “I’d gone into town for supplies to ride out the storm. Guess I should have gone earlier.”
“How long do the snows up here normally last?”