“But it’s more.”
Leila reached out and ran her fingertips over his sculpted lips, finally knowing what they felt like against her own.
“I want you.” Her hand dropped, fingers trailing over his jaw, his throat. “I’ve wanted you for a long time.” The sensation of skin on skin was intoxicating. She leaned forward and pressed her lips against his pulse point. “I don’t know if I’ll ever stop.”
She kissed a path down his chest, as her fingers traced his ribcage. Then her tongue flicked out to tease the flat disc of his nipple. A guttural sound came from deep in Valentine’s throat, partly from her actions, partly from her words. He speared his fingers through her hair and tilted her face up to his. “Don’t stop,” he commanded roughly. “Because I won’t.”
Leila’s eyes darkened as his mouth covered hers, and they once more became lost in a kiss.
Then Valentine’s lips began moving down her body as he gently pushed Leila back, so her spine met the bed. He traced a path down her sternum, over her flat belly, teasing her naval with dips of his tongue, before continuing on until he encountered her mesh panties.
He kissed her through the thin material, his breath hot across her mons.
It only made her want more.
She lifted her hips in demand, and he slid the fabric away, leaving her bare and open to his gaze. Leila panted, her spread breasts rising and falling as she looked down the length of her body at Valentine.
The expression on his face made her heart skip a beat.
Without warning, his head lowered and he kissed her clitoris, open-mouthed, tongue flicking and teasing the little nub.
A cry caught in Leila’s throat and her hips jerked. Valentine’s arms slid behind the small of her back so that she couldn’t pull away. He hauled her forward, to the very edge of the bed, and pinned one of her knees against the mattress, opening her wide.
Then he kissed and sucked and licked, until Leila was feverish with need, head tossing on the white duvet, helpless against the sensations Valentine was wringing from her. They spread from that small point of contact throughout her body.
She reached one hand down and anchored it in his hair. The other clenched the white duvet desperately. Her hips worked helplessly under his mouth, begging for more.
Then two big fingers pressed against her slit.
A breath shuddered out of Leila.
For long moments, his fingers let her know he was there, before he slowly pressed them inside. Her body opened reluctantly as he penetrated her tight, wet heat.
Leila made a sound, an incoherent plea.
Valentine continued his open-mouthed kiss over her clit, as her slick, sensitive walls parted around his digits . . . until he was all the way home.
“Valentine.” His name was an invocation.
He slowly pulled out of her tight channel, then pushed back inside.
“Valen . . . tine.” A benediction.
He did it again.
“Valentine.” A supplication.
Dimly, Leila had fractured thoughts about emperors and generals and who should be worshipping whom. But Valentine didn’t seem to care.
He kept the pace steady as he slowly worked Leila up to breaking point. He was invading her body and her heart. Making them his own. Demanding everything from her. Offering everything to her. Sweat beaded her brow and formed in the plane between her breasts. Her hands clenched in his hair as her body received him. Fierce need coiled tighter and tighter, until she was blind to everything except Valentine and the way he tormented her, slowly and relentlessly, until she could take no more.
The coil shattered.
Leila’s back bowed, and she cried out as pleasure broke her, drugging her body, darkening her vision, and rendering the whole world irrelevant.
When she came back to herself, it was to discover Valentine scattering kisses over her thighs, her stomach, her mons.
Her heart clutched at the sight, and she suddenly wanted his arms around her, with a desire she couldn’t deny. Fighting her lethargy, Leila slid down the duvet and off the bed, until she was on his lap. Valentine’s arms surrounded her, and Leila realized his grey sweats were gone.
She looked down.
His long, thick cock was upright between their bodies, the tip slick with precum. Leila reached down, gliding her fingertip across the wet, swollen head. Valentine hissed. Then they both watched as she slid her hand down the thick shaft, wanting to drive him to the same extremes he’d taken her.
But Valentine wasn’t content to only watch.
His hand found her again, where she was slippery and soft. He gently stroked. In moments, the light, teasing touch had worked her need back up until it was molten.
Leila’s fist tightened around Valentine’s cock in demand.
His hands clamped her waist, pulling her up onto her knees. He rose with her, his forearm cradling her nape as he bent her back until her head met the mattress, kissing her, as below, he fitted himself against her.
Leila felt the broad head of his cock parting her tissues, wet and sensitive from her orgasm. She whimpered against Valentine’s mouth as his long, thick length slowly invaded her core, sliding through her slickness as her walls clamped him tightly.
Until he was buried to the hilt.
Then he withdrew . . . only to thrust inside her again.
Leila couldn’t move, body bowed helplessly over the bed. She could only receive each strong, deep thrust as Valentine stretched her wide, taking her with intensity and deliberation, over and over again.
She tore her mouth free, desperate for oxygen. He buried his face in her throat, brow slick, hair damp. “I want to see.” His words were a whisper against her skin.
He embedded himself inside her then slid his hand under her shoulder blades. He held Leila against his chest as he lifted her. Leila’s legs wrapped around his hips as he moved them to the center of the bed.
Then Valentine once more knelt between her thighs and lowered her until her back met the mattress. He straightened. This position exposed the place where they were joined. Leila followed his gaze and moaned when she saw how she was stretched around his cock.
Her ankles locked behind his hips and she tried to rock up into him, desperately wanting him to move again. Valentine’s thumb played over her vulnerable clit, and Leila shuddered at the contact.
Then his hands moved to her hips and he began to work her up and down his cock, manipulating her body with ease. Leila clutched at the duvet, somewhere above her head, desperate for something to hold on to as Valentine shuttled in and out of her body with merciless demand.
For long minutes, he took her that way; left her helpless to everything but the feeling of being possessed by Valentine Kincaid. Of knowing that despite the ruthless control of his movements, the way he was determined to wring her senseless with pleasure, he was just as possessed as she.
Soon, too soon, she was whimpering, begging for more. For faster and harder. She tightened her legs around his hips in demand. Her hand went searching, and her fingertips skimmed along Valentine’s cock the next time he withdrew from her body.
That, finally, broke him.
He surged over Leila and buried his forearms in the mattress beside her head. His hands found hers, locking their fingers together. He kissed her, lips demanding her equal response, as his hips pumped hard and fast. The tempo was urgent as desire swept them like a sandstorm, blinding them to everything but the driving heat and desperate need for relief.
“Leila,” he whispered against her lips, breath shuddering. “Leila.”
Her hands clenched around his, communicating the intensity of her feelings. His hands clenched back, and his next thrust was harder than any before, brushing against her clit. Leila cried out as her core clamped around Valentine in hot, wet release, delicate tissues fluttering and contracting as her hips bucked and pleasure decimated her.
As though he’d been waiting for just that, Valentine thrust hard and his lips were remors
eless against hers, as he finally took his own release. He shuddered against Leila and a guttural groan escaped, his hands clenching hers tightly as he came, longer and harder than seemed possible. In those final moments, he raised his head, and fathomless pools stared down into helpless cobalt as rapture annihilated them both.
In the aftermath, Valentine’s forehead dropped to rest against Leila’s as their ragged breathing eased. What had passed between them was more than anything Leila had ever felt before. She was raw with emotion. As she stared up into his eyes, she could see that he was the same.
“Leila.” He whispered her name again, and it was still full of need. But this time, it was a different kind of need. Valentine released one of her hands to slide his arm underneath her. He turned to his back and took her with him so that she lay nestled with her head on his shoulder and her legs twined with his. His lips pressed soft kisses against his temple as he whispered to her in the dark and, once more, she fell asleep in his arms.
This time when Leila woke in Valentine’s bed, he was beside her.
She was infinitely more satisfied with this scenario than when she woke here alone. His arms held her close, and her head rested against his heart. She could feel its steady beat as pre-dawn light filtered through the curtains. Leila slid up his body, the duvet falling down to her hips, so she could look at his face.
Sleeping Valentine was sexy as sin.
Then his dark lashes fluttered, and she was caught in a charcoal web.
He smiled at her, and Leila’s breath caught.
She knew she’d be doing a lot in the future for the chance to see that smile again.
In a move she didn’t see coming, Valentine wrapped a hand around her thigh, pulling her over him fully so that her knees were on either side of his hips. He buried a hand in her hair, pulled her down, and kissed her properly.
Then he lay there, letting Leila explore him with her hands and her lips until need swept them both, until it could no longer be contained, and they shared their bodies and their hearts once more as the sun rose over Sin City.
16
The next time Leila woke, she was once more alone.
But this time she didn’t mind. Now she had the memory of waking in his arms, and it was the best awakening she’d ever had. As she stretched lazily, she noticed clothes draped over the back of the armchair. Her clothes.
She smiled, knowing Valentine must have retrieved them from her apartment so she wouldn’t have to leave here in her evening gown. In this hotel, the gossip would be swift and never-ending, so she was grateful. Not that she intended to hide their relationship, but she didn’t intend to make it primetime viewing either. Although, that was probably unavoidable.
After she showered and dried her hair, Leila put on the white collared shirt. It fit much better than the last white shirt she’d worn, but probably didn’t look as good. She quickly followed with the fitted blazer and skinny three-quarter pants. She slipped on the black slingbacks that had been resting next to the gold Louboutins. She found her comms on the coffee table in the living room, fixing it in place so she could get a status report from Ops, then she slipped out of Valentine’s room.
Leila spent the morning talking with the police and tidying up loose ends, making sure the hotel was secure and the systems truly were back to optimum. She only saw Valentine once, when he came to Ops for a status report.
She wasn’t sure why he came there when she always delivered her reports to him in Sanctum. But she didn’t care. She was glad for the excuse to see him when she’d been too busy to get away.
He didn’t treat her any differently, didn’t give anything away. But she’d glimpsed the look in his eyes when he first saw her, so fleeting that anyone else would have missed it. That look kept her warm all day.
She didn’t see him again, and it was late when she finished.
But she knew he’d be waiting.
Leila stepped out onto Seraglio’s roof into the cool, dark night.
Valentine was standing at the parapet, looking down at the glowing neon lights of the city.
He came here sometimes, she knew.
To think, or to survey his empire . . . she wasn’t sure which.
Either way, Leila didn’t hesitate.
She walked over and slid her arms around his waist, hugging him tightly from behind. His hands covered hers, holding them in place so she couldn’t let him go. Not that she wanted to.
Not ever.
Leila’s cheek pressed against the fine wool weave of his suit, and she nuzzled against his shoulder. They stood quietly for several minutes, content to share space and body heat.
“You know . . .” she began softly, “you didn’t answer my question.”
“Hm?” His voice was relaxed.
She whispered her next words slowly. “Will you be my Valentine?”
She was startled to find herself abruptly hauled around to his front, but her arms quickly found a place around his waist, while his linked around hers.
He flipped her a dark grin and Leila’s heart stopped. It was even better than his smile. “Really?” he asked, a hint of humor in his voice. “You think I didn’t answer that question?” Then his voice dropped . . . became darker. “Shall I answer it again now?”
Her knees went weak.
Leila took her hands from his waist. She rested one on his strong chest while the other grasped his silk tie, pulling him down. “Be my guest,” she softly invited.
Valentine didn’t hesitate. His head lowered the remaining inches and his lips claimed hers. Then he kissed her on Seraglios’ rooftop, against the backdrop of the dark night and the desert city. Kissed her like a man kissed the woman to whom he belonged.
When he finally raised his lips, he whispered, “I’ve been yours a long time, Leila.”
Then he kissed her again.
By the time he was done, Leila was boneless against him. She dragged in a breath of crisp night air and turned in his arms, so her back was sheltered against his chest. His chin rested on top of her head, and they stared out over the neon lights.
The remote, handsome Emperor of Sin City was hers.
There was only one other thing she wanted.
Her request was a whispered breath. “Be mine, forever.”
His reply was a promise. “I’m yours to command, Empress.”
About Novalee Swan
Novalee Swan writes paranormal and contemporary romance. She loves creating sexy alpha heroes who know how to scorch the sheets. She lives Down Under where she writes with a fur baby called Emma for a foot warmer. She reads too much (is that possible?), likes pretty things, and jumps at any chance to travel. She also loves to hear from readers. www.novaleeswan.com
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A Free Copy of Ride
Nathan Graham and Fiona McNaren hate each other. Or so they say. But what’s between them isn’t so simple. Her mother married his father when they were teenagers, making them step-siblings. That didn’t go down well. They’re all grow up now, but the cold war lives on.
They both live and work at Clearwater Ranch. When Nate tells Fiona not to ride Diablo, a dangerous bronco, she defies him. He’s furious at her recklessness, but it’s when she gets hurt that he reaches breaking point. Then everything changes.
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Be Mine: Valentine Novellas to Warm The Heart Page 94