Lionheart

by Thea Harrison

  “It’s the truth,” she gasped.

  “I know,” he replied. “I heard it in your voice. Is that the only reason?”

  “Of course it is!” Dammit, Shaw! If she could hear the lie in her own voice, he could too.

  Laughing quietly, he caressed the thin, delicate skin along her hairline with his sensual lips. “If Robin brought them back, you would be free to leave sooner than you had planned, wouldn’t you? You were trying to wiggle out of your commitment for a fortnight.”

  “Most of the two weeks are gone anyway. What… what day is it again?” She couldn’t seem to think properly, and her head felt too heavy to hold up. She drooped closer and closer to his chest.

  “It’s day nine,” he reminded her, caressing the nape of her neck. “You have five more days unless Annwyn and the others arrive before then. And if they do, you can go home. If Robin really did go to get them, this might be our last evening alone.” Angling his head, he put his lips against her ear to whisper, “You don’t want to waste it, do you?”

  Feeling his lips against the sensitive shell of her ear, his warm breath moving over her skin, sent a convulsive shiver through her.

  Doctor. Patient.

  She had hoped if she said it enough that it might help reinforce a barrier between them, but it didn’t. She’d just gotten tired of saying it. She wasn’t really his doctor anymore. No matter what he had argued earlier, he didn’t need her for that. She had known that even as she had given in to his demand to stay.

  She should have left the first time she could, but she hadn’t, and now…

  Now she was tired of feeling at war with herself, and he was right. She didn’t want to waste what might be their last evening alone together. So she did what she really wanted to do—what she’d been wanting to do ever since he had woken up from surgery.

  Lifting her head, she kissed him.

  It was every bit as electric as she remembered from the first time. It was also just as wrong, and more foolish than anything she had ever done. He was recovering. He was the definition of a bad bet in every conceivable way, and yet she couldn’t stop herself.

  His big body went still. She had surprised him. But he didn’t stay frozen for long. Coming to life just like he had the first time, he wound his arms around her, tilted her back, and kissed her with such intense need it stole the breath from her body.

  All that easygoing attitude. Here, drink some cool, magical wine, it’s so special, aren’t we having a wonderful time? He had played her like a fiddle.

  He was a master-class manipulator, right up there with the very best she had known and worked with over the past several decades, because the whole time he had been circling around her, easing up slowly, de-escalating her impulse to argue and coaxing her to relax, distracting her with pleasantries and snippets of wine history while he waited for his moment to make a move.

  She would have laughed if she could have. Instead, her knees felt so unsteady she wound her arms around his neck and hung on.

  And man, did this guy know how to kiss. Their first kiss had been strange, brief, and very nearly disastrous. This one had just gotten started, but already he ranked in the top five kissers she’d experienced in her two hundred years of life.

  No, whoops, he just leaped into the top three. And then he did something extraordinary with his tongue and bypassed the other two completely….

  Gods have mercy, she thought hazily. This is the best kiss I’ve ever had.

  And she didn’t want it to stop.

  Then every thought and list she tried to hold on to disintegrated as he angled his head, cupped the back of hers with one big hand, and ravished her mouth more deeply. He thrust a knee between her legs so that his hard thigh came up against her sensitive, intimate flesh. As he fucked her mouth with his tongue, he pressed upward with his leg.

  Arousal bolted through her entire body. He couldn’t have ignited her more completely if he’d set a match to her. Arching against his long, tough body, she clamped his thigh between hers and kissed him back as wildly as he kissed her.

  Never lifting away from her mouth, he palmed her breast. His hand felt big and hot through the material of the dress. His fingers were shaking.

  They weren’t shaking any more than hers were. There were too many layers of clothes between them. Her skin felt like it was on fire, and she needed to feel him closer against her.

  She wasn’t the only one. His body poured off heat, every heavy muscle tense. This was moving too fast. Tearing her mouth away from his, she gasped, “We have to stop.”

  “No,” he growled. “We don’t.”

  “You don’t know what you’re doing. You just had your surgery—”

  “Stop trying to manage me,” he growled. “I know exactly what I’m doing. I wanted you before when all my emotions were suppressed—and I want you even more now.” Freezing, she met his gaze. He looked harder and more determined than ever. “Trust me, Kathryn. I’ve known myself for a very long time. It’s all flooding back, and it’s everything I knew I was missing before. I’m not becoming someone new—I’m returning to the man I’ve always been.”

  “You’re asking for a lot of trust,” she whispered.

  “I know.” His gaze was clear and rock steady. “And I’m worth it.”

  It crumbled the last of her resistance. She yanked at his shirt, widening the opening so she could run greedy fingers along the crisp black hair that sprinkled his massive chest.

  Diving in for another kiss, he bent her farther, urging her to lie back as he began to sweep everything on the table aside.

  A single semblance of sanity remained. Pulling away from his mouth again, she gasped, “Don’t! I spent hours cooking that food, and there’s no takeout here.”

  His chest heaved as he sucked in a breath. The skin along his hard cheekbones was flushed dark. “Gods, your mouth is amazing. I have no idea what takeout is.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” she gasped, glancing behind her. “Don’t knock the food on the floor. Oh—and there’s still more wine.” For some people, the value in the amount of wine that was left equaled a mortgage payment.

  “Fine, dammit,” he muttered.

  But when he bent farther and made as if he would pick her up, real sanity intruded just in time. She struggled against his hold. “Oberon, you can’t. Remember, no heavy lifting for a week.”

  Growling, he held her tight around the waist as he sank to his knees, bringing her down with him. “How the hells did you remember that? I’m burning up.”

  “I am too,” she whispered. Sitting on his angled thighs, she yanked the ends of his shirt out of his trousers, and he released her long enough to help, the broad muscles of his torso and arms flexing as he pulled it off over his head.

  Seeing him half-naked only fueled her urgency. Wiggling the dress up over her hips, she pulled it off. Underneath, she only wore the underpants she had washed clean, as well as silk stockings from the unknown Daoine Sidhe woman whose wardrobe she had raided. Her bras were still drying, so she hadn’t bothered wearing anything else.

  As she bared her breasts, he let out a low, urgent groan that went to her head with more potency than the wine. Staring down at them, he cupped the soft globes and rubbed the tips of her nipples with his thumbs. She didn’t have very large breasts—she was built too slightly for that—but they were very sensitive, and more sensation jolted down her body as he played with them.

  He noticed, and his caresses slowed. Watching her face now, he rolled the stiffened, dusky peaks between thumbs and forefingers, flicked and scratched lightly at the tips with his fingernails. As he teased her, the urgency in her body localized into an urgent, empty ache at the juncture between her legs. It rapidly grew into a serious sense of pain.

  Hunger for him was driving her wild. She couldn’t touch him enough, taste him enough. As he played with her body, she ran her shaking lips down the side of his neck and along the broad, strong curve of his collarbone.

  She’d never u
nderstood recreational drugs until that moment, but his taste was more addictive than crack. She couldn’t get enough of his scent, his warmth. He was sexy enough all on his own, but added to that, now she could scent his arousal. She needed to rub herself all over him.

  Part of her was disturbed at how fast and completely this had exploded between them. But that was a dying part as the rest of her became consumed with taking him any way she could get him.

  Laying one hand over the bulge in his trousers, she rubbed him until he hissed. With fast, violent movements, he yanked open the fastening and his large erection spilled out.

  He was beautiful everywhere, the skin like velvet over the thick, hard cock, with a tracery of veins. His large, round testicles had drawn up tight underneath with his arousal.

  She needed him inside her body. She needed to take this crazy ride they were both on to completion, because she didn’t think she could take it if they stopped now.

  Reaching between her legs, he fingered her, and this time they both groaned as the wetness of her own arousal coated his fingers. She twisted to take hold of his cock so that she could work him while he worked her, but after a few moments he hissed and pulled out of her hand.

  “Not yet,” he gasped. “I don’t want to spill until I’m inside you.”

  “Then come inside me!” She lifted herself up and angled her pelvis to help him gain entry.

  His eyes were alight, golden and feral, the pupils dilated, but for some reason he paused. His uneven breathing shuddered between his teeth, and a light sheen of sweat glistened on his forehead. “I usually have more finesse than to take a woman on the kitchen floor.”

  What was that in his voice? Concern? Opening her eyes very wide, she exclaimed, “Why are you still talking?”

  With that, whatever the emotion was, it vanished. What was left behind was total focus, total animal. And that was exactly as it should be. It was exactly what she needed.

  He took hold of his erection and rubbed the head against her folds. Digging her nails into his arms, she widened her legs farther, inviting him in. Hissing between his teeth, he pushed until the broad head of his cock was inside her.

  He was big. Really big, and it had been a while since she’d had a lover. He stretched her inner muscles to the point of pain. Face twisting, she stroked his taut cheek. “Easy now,” she gasped. “Let me get used to you.”

  “No worries,” he whispered. “I’ll get you there. Lean your weight back on your hands.”

  With her sitting on his spread thighs, that would arch her torso up and put her on display to him. She liked that idea, very much.

  Easing back, she leaned her weight on her hands. His reaction was immediate. Face tightening, he growled, “That might have been a mistake.”

  Licking her lips, she asked, “Why?”

  “My control is… very precarious right now.” He touched her breast, stroked down her flat belly to the soft brown curl of hair between her legs. Then he forked his fingers and rubbed her on either side of his cock. “I want to eat you up,” he told her roughly. “I want to suck on you until you scream, but I won’t put you on that cold stone floor to do it. It’s going to have to wait until we can get into a bed.”

  Her eyelids fell half-closed as he caressed her. “I want that too. Mostly, though, I just want you to come deeper inside.”

  “Are you ready for more?”

  When she nodded, he pushed in, then rocked back. Slowly, he pumped back in, going deeper and stretching her farther before pulling back out again. His expression was taut to the point of pain.

  She understood that pain. She felt it too. The inner need had built to a crescendo. Pushing into his next thrust, she impaled herself all the way on him. As she did, her small, stiffened clitoris rubbed against his root, and the flare of climax that swept over her was like a lightning bolt spearing through her core.

  As she shook and gasped, he gathered her up in his arms and rocked gently against her. “There you are,” he whispered as he stroked her back. “You’re exquisite in every way.”

  As her climax ebbed, she flung her head back, tightened her inner muscles on him, and gasped, “I’m not done. I need more.”

  And it was her turn to set a match to him as her words ignited him.

  Where he had cradled her against him before, now he gripped her body with selfish greed. Where he had stroked so gently along her nerve endings, now he went roughly, thrusting into her with a hard rhythm that increased as she catapulted precipitously into another climax.

  She cried out as it took her over, and she flung out a hand, questing blindly for something solid to hold on to. The most solid, most real thing around was him, and she held the back of his neck as he drove into her.

  He arched and gasped, and she was stretched so tightly around him she could feel him pulsing as he came. She rocked gently until he had finished, and afterward she threw her arms around him in a hug.

  She still wanted more, but what they had shared was gorgeous, glorious. More could come soon enough, she told her urgent body, trying to bring herself down from the frenzy.

  But then he grasped her by the hips and growled, “I’m not finished.”

  That was important. She should take a moment to consider why. But as his deep voice vibrated over her skin, she lost control of all thought. Raking her nails down his back, she hissed, “Give me all you’ve got.”

  * * *

  He had never been so far outside his own control before. That was the single coherent realization he had. The rest was all animal, all rut, and every detail about her fueled the frenzy.

  The graceful bones of her rib cage, rippling under her supple torso as she flexed and arched, meeting every one of his rough thrusts as he drove into her.

  The reddened areas on her fine skin where he had rubbed her with his short beard.

  The lambent light in her fierce eyes as the afternoon sun slanted over them, so unlike any other woman he had ever been with before.

  When her hair knot slipped and came undone, the soft brown length spilled over her shoulders. Strands stuck to her hot damp skin. He loved all of it. He loved watching his intelligent, sarcastic physician lose control.

  He had to bite her, and he wasn’t careful about it. As his teeth sank into the juncture where her neck met her shoulder, she growled and pressed the back of his head, urging him on.

  He came, and he came, again. And again. It wasn’t enough. He could never get enough, couldn’t get deep enough inside. He would never tire of taking her in as many ways as he could. He thought she climaxed again too, but he couldn’t be sure—he wasn’t paying attention to what she needed any longer.

  He was taking what he needed and trusting her to do the same. Her teeth flashed, and she bit him too. She scratched him as well, and each tiny pain flared as punctuation to the extreme ecstasy. Some deep instinctual part of him knew she wasn’t fighting him. She was fighting with him to get to the heart of this blinding-hot reality they generated between them.

  He had never expected the act of sex to be transcendent. Sex was sex, enjoyable and even necessary at times, but a transient pleasure at best. He had always believed when he found the right woman, the emotions they shared would become the transcendent experience.

  But with Kathryn it was all one and the same. That beautiful body of hers housed a strong, bright spirit, and he needed to get inside her as deep as he could, to watch her peak, spirit and flesh, her parted lips shaking as yet another climax rippled through her. He was inarticulate in the face of such joy. All he could do was strain toward more, until the accumulation of multiple releases finally brought them back down to earth.

  When at last they came to a halt, the light was fading outside. They were both breathing hard as if they had just completed a marathon, and she had her legs wrapped around his hips. He had long since given up trying to spare her the cold flagstones, and they lay sprawled together on the floor. It was awkward and not at all comfortable.

  Slowly he came
to realize he had his arms clenched tight around her. He should loosen his hold, or she would think he was even more of a madman than she must already.

  But she wasn’t complaining. She held him just as tightly.

  He noticed a marking on her skin in the distinctive shape of his fingers, and finally the capacity to speak returned. Stroking her hair back from her face, he murmured, “You’re bruised everywhere. I knew we should have gone to the nearest bed.” But the flagstone floor hadn’t made those marks. His own feral satisfaction at seeing how he had marked her shocked him. “Are you all right?”

  She nodded and traced a finger lightly down a scratch on his arm. Her quiet voice was hoarse. “You took some damage too.”

  He wanted to smile, but he still couldn’t gauge how she was feeling. “I don’t mind if you don’t.”

  “Not in the slightest.” She pressed her lips to the scratch she had just stroked, and the light touch of her healing magic flowed like golden salveri through him.

  Disappointed, he drew in a breath to protest, but by then it was too late. The marks she had made, both scratches and suck-bites, smoothed over and healed completely. Quietly, he said, “You didn’t need to do that. I would have healed soon enough anyway.”

  He would have healed too soon either way. He would have liked to wear her marks on his body for as long as he could.

  “It was the least I could do after everything you’ve just done for me.” Lifting her head, she gave him a smile.

  But it was a preoccupied smile, he noticed, and that darkened his own mood. His cock hadn’t even softened enough to slip out of her, and she was already withdrawing emotionally from the incredible experience they had just shared.

  “What is it?” As he spoke, since she had already healed him, he returned the favor—magical healing was not one of his strengths, but he could do that much. He watched as the redness and marks on her skin smoothed away. If he had not still held her in his arms, she would have looked untouched.

  In reply, she kissed him. It wasn’t a deep kiss but a lingering one, and when she finally pulled away, she met his gaze. “That was truly amazing and beautiful, but Oberon, we can’t do it again.”