Lifting for him as he worked to strip away the twin-shaded silks of blouse and bra, she gave herself over to the raw, naked wonder of him. She feathered her hands into his hair, savoring the texture that was smooth as silk, the shade that was dark as midnight.
“Lakota. Isn’t that right?”
He murmured a response while pressing kisses to her cheek, her temple, nipping at the lobe of her ear. The answering pull registered deep in her pussy. She wanted every inch of his astounding, sumptuous girth buried as deep as he could go, straight to the source of that magnificent, tender ache.
“Diluted by half through the generations.”
“Oh, but I think you’ve kept all the best parts.” She smiled as he looked down at her, tracing his fingers over all the places his lips had just left. He had been blessed with the body of a brave warrior. A face shadowed by the spirits of his ancestors.
And on the subject of blessings, she wiggled her hips so that her mound rubbed the heat of his superb erection, spreading her cream. She wrapped her legs around him, silently beckoning him in.
“Wait.” He cursed under his breath and started to ease away. “Let me get a condom.”
She expected him to fumble through the drawer of his nightstand, but he started to pull further away. Grasping at his arm, she hated the feeling that swamped her. She couldn’t bear to let him go, not even for a second. Hated it, but was helpless to fight it.
“They’re in the bathroom cabinet. I’ll only be a min—”
“We don’t have to. It’s up to you. But I’m clean, and I’m on the pill,” she offered.
He paused for a brief moment, looking at her. Looking into her. Trust stretched like a thin, silky strand between them. It was offered and returned, handled with the appropriate burden of care.
“Only if you’re sure.”
“I’m sure,” she told him, pulling his mouth and his body back down to hers. “Inside me, Trevor. I want, I need to feel you without anything between us.”
Need. Yes, there was so much need. So much more than she’d ever believed possible.
* * * *
Need.
Yes, he could see it in her eyes, feel it in her touch. Wonderfully, it mirrored his own. He’d wanted other women before Savannah.
But need?
God, yes, he needed her. He needed to be inside of her, joined with her, infused with her, flesh-to-flesh, something he’d never allowed himself to risk with any other woman—the ultimate trust when it came to intimacy. With Savannah, the hesitation vanished, overwhelmed by the urgent desire to merge.
One swift stroke that elicited a startled gasp from Savannah, and he was right where he’d only dreamed of being—buried to the hilt inside of her velvety, moist, welcoming pussy. His head swam with her seductively feminine scent as he held himself suspended in the unbelievable glory of her. As snug as a perfectly tailored glove, she surrounded him.
Mine, his mind echoed, fiercely.
“Sweet mercy, Savannah.” He lowered his forehead to hers. “Are you okay?”
All the hunger that he’d banked came rushing back on a tidal wave of crushing strength—the desire to possess, the ravenous craving to hammer himself into her, to watch her go blind with pleasure. Her nails dug into the flesh of his hips, trying to pull him in impossibly deeper as she arched her lithe, gorgeous body closer and closer still to his.
“No.” The word came out strangled.
Icy threads of panic wound in his gut. “Shit. Savannah, did I hurt you?”
Savannah shook her head wildly. “Killing me. I’m aching, Trevor. Burning alive. Dear God, please.”
Such a fine, thin line between pain and bliss.
He nibbled at the luscious swell of her lower lip. “Say it, baby. Let me hear that you want me to fuck you.”
“Yes! Dammit, Trevor.” She tried to grind her hips to his. “Fuck me. Hard, fast. Just, dear God, now!”
At her frantic urging, he growled and let loose the beast of his passion.
There was the slap of flesh to flesh, the frenzied, slick suction of his cock pounding her drenched pussy. Grunts, groans, cries, and demands for more echoed around them like a symphony of erotic delights. The sharp, ripe scent of lust scented the air.
Savannah erupted beneath him. Her body bowed tight, and she clung to him. He battered on through the crest and ebb of her climax, thrusting deeper, harder, while she sobbed his name. The rippling sensations of her sheath threatened to tug him farther into the vortex, but he fought to hold back his release.
Trevor was determined to draw out the amazing sensations as long as possible.
* * * *
When the next orgasm ripped through Savannah’s hips, she felt Trevor go still under her greedy hands. Trevor’s magnificent body drew tight, and a deep guttural grunt erupted from his chest. She could feel the convulsive waves washing over her inner muscles and milking his cock. Once, twice, he grunted again, and his cock jerked deep inside her. She felt the hot spurts of his sweet cream against her womb.
He uttered her name like a prayer and pressed his lips to the hollow at the base of her throat as he collapsed over her.
Minutes, maybe more, passed with him pressing his weight into her, pressing her to the mattress. She didn’t care. She could have stayed just that way for oh, say, a century, cradling his gloriously formed male body.
Finally, he promised, “I’ll move just as soon as I can find the strength.”
“Bully for you,” Savannah managed to tease and hugged him tighter. “It may take me years to feel my legs.”
Never had she felt so completely and utterly filled, so completed. Trevor somehow reached a part of her no one ever had. In his arms, something at the very core of her unfurled. He stirred her desires to a ravenous peak. Sheer, uncontrolled hunger drove her to beg. And damn if she cared. Savannah felt marvelously sated.
He chuckled, the deeply resonant sound echoing in her. Finally, he lifted his head and looked at her, brushed the damp tendrils from her temples. When he kissed her, they languorously explored the rich, alluring textures and flavors of one another. She ran her hands up and down the damp, sculpted slope of his back, cruising up to caress the wings of his shoulder blades, lingering over the toned, lean muscles of his biceps.
Threading her fingers into his hair, she slanted her mouth under his, sinking deeper into the intoxicating kiss as it turned from languid and tender to urgent.
“Oh, God,” she murmured, nipping at the strong line of his jaw.
They were still joined. He was still buried inside of her when she felt his cock stir to life. His girth swiftly grew hard, stretching her, filling every inch of her again.
How could she want him this much, so soon, again?
Admittedly, she deeply appreciated Trevor’s shocking speed of recovery. He truly was a remarkable man in so many ways.
Writhing beneath him, she met the slow, easy strokes of his hips as he began to move deep inside her once more.
This time, when he took her up, his eyes were locked on hers. Their bodies danced together in a long, slow waltz of graceful strokes. Somehow, he pressed higher, fitted their bodies impossibly closer. Each thrust pushed her thighs wider and caused their bodies to rub together in a way that placed the perfect amount of pressure on her throbbing clit, allowing her to experience another level of pleasure that astonished her.
Taking her hands, Trevor laced their fingers, holding them over her head. Savannah felt her desires rising to a near-unbearable level.
As the tempo changed, his eyes went dark as ink, and he brought his mouth back to hers. Savannah groaned and thrust her hips to meet the new, faster rhythm. She could feel the glorious length of his cock nearly to her throat.
He let go of her hands only to grasp her knees and shove them higher. Reaching over her head, Savannah gripped the wooden slats of the headboard as he hammered into her. Harder, faster, the bed rocked, and the headboard rammed against the wall as he shoved her higher up on the mattress,
as he slammed into her over and over and over, until her scream of release echoed with the roar of his own.
Heat burst in her center and shot outward, leaving her breathless, spent, shaking, feeling as if she’d been melted through, clear to her toes. They rocked together, riding out the pulsing waves of completion.
Savannah felt as if her insides were melted wax. Her skin felt gilded, positively radiant. Sated, exhausted, she groaned in disbelief when Trevor’s alarm went off.
Cursing, he hit the snooze then rolled to his back and tucked her into his body. “Eight minutes. Then the damn thing goes off again.”
She couldn’t help but giggle. “No way to fight the hands of time.”
“Nope,” he agreed as he plucked her up and carried her to into the shower, “but we could make better use of it.”
Dear God, Savannah could only marvel at his strength, his stamina. Remarkable, she thought again. Thank you, God! The man was truly a warrior, and she was oh-so-willing to be conquered.
Again, and again, and again.
While the water steamed around them, he cupped her ass, lifting her so that she had no choice but to wrap her legs around him. Savannah clung to him, met his demanding mouth and his greedy hands with her own. Trevor pressed her back against the cool tiles, centering the tip of his hard cock to her shockingly aching core and drove into her.
Chapter 4
Savannah all but staggered to the kitchen. After rifling through his cabinets and finding the essentials, she set the pot of coffee on to brew and popped a couple of slices of bread in the toaster. Trevor got busy scrambling up a bowl of eggs.
They’d worked up quite an appetite, Savannah mused. Twice in his bed, once in the shower, and that wasn’t even the tally of her orgasms. She couldn’t remember when she’d felt so wonderfully, gloriously used. And God, she wanted him again, she realized with no small measure of amazement as she watched him work.
She might never get enough.
Feeling as if she were walking on rocky ground, she went to straighten up the couch where she’d first fallen asleep. Obviously, he’d covered her and slipped off her heels. When she first woke with the nightmare, she’d been fuzzy about her surroundings and the time. She’d been disoriented. She’d also been scared and shaking, feeling as if she’d been stuffed in a damn trunk, unable to escape. Hell, she’d barely been able to breathe.
Understandably, Savannah had panicked.
The scream, she remembered now, with a startling blow of clarity. No. Not really a scream.
A name.
Trevor.
Even caught in the sticky, horrid torrent of a nightmare, she’d called out for Trevor. Because somehow she’d known he would come.
And he had.
She’d believed, deep down, that he’d protect her, help her.
He had.
Then he’d offered to soothe, to comfort. He’d made no demands, employed no slippery hands or tricks. The perfect gentleman, Trevor had done nothing more than what he’d promised, relaxing her, letting her rest.
Unwittingly, she rubbed the heel of her palm to her heart.
It wasn’t smart to become so reliant on him. No, it wasn’t wise to get so tangled up physically and emotionally, and she was feeling so very, very tangled. Stepping back would be a prudent decision. It would be best to put some distance between them so she could sort out this disconcerting turn of her emotions.
While he’d given her pleasure, he’d made no promises of anything more.
She’d do well to remember that, Savannah reminded herself as she gathered the quilt from the cushions, nor was she asking or looking for anything more. Yet if she had to get tangled in a man, no finer specimen came to mind.
Body or soul.
Fingering the lovely patchwork on the quilt and the stitches, Savannah admired the workmanship. Faded, smooth, the fabric was worn with use and soft as butter from countless washings. The pale white seams were evenly spaced, neat, but not machine quality.
Love and a steady hand had sewn each and every piece. Of that she was certain.
* * * *
He’d rather not think of the way Savannah lovingly caressed the fabric, of the way her lips pulled into a soft, wistful smile, as if she felt the time and love that went into making it. Both of which his grandmother remarked on time and again.
A person could admire the craftsmanship, Trevor reminded. There was no reason to make more of it than necessary. No reason at all.
Fool, he silently berated himself.
“My grandmother,” Trevor supplied.
When her head snapped up, he brought over a mug of steaming hot coffee and felt his mouth go dry as cotton as her eyes met his. They’d melted to a misty shade of jade, not quite recovered from the afterglow of spectacular sex. Although she’d dried her hair after the shower, she hadn’t twisted it up.
Thank the stars because he preferred the way the golden mass of it was left to tumble about freely.
Because he could, he scooped right in and gathered a handful of it as he drew her mouth to his. Heat simmered in his blood as her sigh of surrender escaped, and her lips eagerly parted for his exploration. She met his tongue with fervent, luscious strokes. He felt her nipples harden in response, poking his chest through the thin, silky fabric of her blouse. Like her hair, her breasts were free, unbound.
A strangled groan of protest erupted from her throat when he eased back.
He’d had to let her go before he gave in and shredded her damn shirt. Jesus, it was all a man could do not to drag her to the couch and shove his aching cock into such a tight, welcoming cunt and not to suck at those pretty, pert nipples. The floor would’ve worked. Hell, he could just drag her back to bed. There were so many things he still wanted to do to her, with her.
If only they had more time.
“I didn’t know how you took your coffee, so I went light on the cream and sugar.”
She accepted the cup and took a sip. “Perfect,” she announced and set aside the folded quilt. “You’re grandmother’s work is lovely.”
“She’d be honored to hear you say so. C’mon, the eggs are ready.”
* * * *
Carrying her coffee to the table, Savannah sat and buttered a piece of toast while Trevor dove into his plate of eggs. She admired the man and his gusto.
Fresh from the shower, he looked more gorgeous than the law should allow in pressed khaki pants, a crisp, starched light blue dress shirt and coordinating tie. Here she was, still wearing her rumpled blouse and the wrinkle-laden skirt. She felt terribly rumpled in contrast to his sharp cleanness. Though she’d showered, she needed to get to her apartment and change before driving in to the office.
“I’m going to be late if I don’t get a serious move on it,” she told him as she took her plate to the sink and caught a glimpse of the clock on the microwave.
Trevor followed suit. “I have to be in court this morning, drug bust testimony, then I have some appointments after lunch. Why don’t we grab dinner tonight, and—”
“Can’t.” She hopped into one heel then grabbed her jacket off the back of the couch. Searching around for her purse and the other shoe, she explained, “There’s a fundraiser at the Boys and Girls Club in South Lyon at six, a barbeque plate dinner. I’ll probably be tied up at the mayor’s side ‘til eight-thirty or after.”
He followed her hop and skip routine back to the kitchen. She grabbed her mug, gleaned the few last sips of caffeine while on her way to the door. “Thursday night should be clear, though. I’m usually out of the office by five. If you want—”
He stopped her cold, grabbing her by the front of her already wrinkled blouse and plastering his lips to hers. She quickly threw an arm around his neck and responded by pouring everything she had into the kiss as if she were memorizing the taste and the feel of him.
Desire, fresh and keen, sizzled between them, leaving Savannah tingling with excitement and wanting for more when they finally managed to tear apart.
&nb
sp; Trevor quickly offered, “I want. I’ll even cook.”
He withdrew a card from his wallet, white heavy cardstock, black embossed lettering with signature gold shield. It had the precinct number and his extension listed in the lower right corner. And on the back, he’d listed his home and cell numbers. “In case you need to reach me before then. Day or night, Savannah, don’t dare hesitate. I’ll look for you around seven.”
“Thank you.” She exchanged the mug for the card and tucked it into her purse for safekeeping. Taking another moment, she lifted a hand to caress his cheek. “Trevor, I...”
Words failed her. What was she supposed to say when she’d just spent the night with a man who’d touched her in so many immeasurable ways?
Gratitude seemed oddly inadequate.
Stretching up on her tiptoes, she brushed her lips over his and murmured, “Thursday. I’ll see you Thursday.”
She’d be counting the minutes. Would he?
Turning, she rushed out to her car.
* * * *
Trevor stood on the porch, holding her half-drunk cup of coffee and watching her dash to her compact. Unwittingly, his thumb traced the spot that was still warm from her lips. He ran his tongue over his own and tasted the kisses they’d shared. When the car pulled out of the drive and was gone from sight, he turned and walked back into the empty house to grab his jacket and his keys.
Empty.
What a fool he’d been. Taking her to his bed, hell, letting her into his heart. Thinking he could do either without losing that last vital piece of himself he’d worked so hard and so long to covet. Only a fool would believe he had a choice when it came to his emotions. When it came to Savannah.
“Damn it!” he cursed aloud, snapping to the silent witness of muted green walls and whitewashed wood. “It’s my house, damn it! I’m in it, and it isn’t empty.”
Sadly, even to Trevor’s ears, the denial resonated deeply, echoed unceasingly, as if the rooms were as hollow as a cavernous void.
Empty.
The faint scent of her perfume lingered on the air to tantalize his senses.
“Shit.”
He was so screwed.
* * * *
Saving Savannah (Siren Publishing Classic) Page 5