by Kresley Cole
She pushed at him when he spread her legs wide once more, but he yanked her arms to her sides and clutched her wrists, capturing her in place.
"Spread your legs," he ordered in a tone that dared her to deny him.
She did with a whimper, knowing what was to come. He set back in, more aggressive, emboldened at how he'd made her come already, at how she'd given off lightning. He'd worried that he would be awful at this, that she would yawn with boredom. But she'd made it so easy with her moans and cries, letting him know exactly how she liked to be kissed.
When he decided to try suckling her clitoris, she moaned with abandon, head thrashing on the pillow, making him grind his cock into the mattress in agony. Her legs fell wide again in total surrender, and light exploded outside; the plane shook as she rolled her hips to his waiting tongue.
"Yes... yes... yes," she cried, panting, writhing. She screamed—loudly—when she came, and though he held her wrists, her claws dug down and shredded the sheets.
He devoured her until he'd wrung every last whimper from her. Then he kissed her silky thighs where he'd squeezed too hard, wanting to soothe her even as he ached.
"Bastian?" she murmured.
He finally pulled himself away and rose to sit back on his haunches, not bothering to hide his amazement. She appeared to share the feeling. "Well"—she had to swallow before continuing—"you're, uh, certainly no slouch in that department."
Sebastian was proud and relieved. Very relieved. But now he would have to leave her. He had a cock full of seed that would not be denied. And he'd promised her he'd do no more than touch her. Even in the unlikely event that she wanted to make love to him, he didn't want her to in exchange for anything—
"Bastian," she purred. "I want to touch you."
He shook his head. "I told you I wouldn't." But when she reached out her soft palm, his hips shot forward, seemingly of their own accord, to place his cock at her disposal.
By the time he'd gathered the will to think about denying her, she'd already undone his jeans.
In a throaty whisper, she asked, "Do you think I could let that go unrewarded?"
Kaderin grasped his shaft, pulling it free. Her eyes widened at her first sight.
Gods, he was glorious. The crown was glistening, the shaft so thick as it pulsed and throbbed in her palm.
She glanced up to find his face flushed as he looked down to where she held him. When she caught his darkened eyes, she realized he wanted her to like what they were doing, that he wanted her to find him attractive.
"I love the way you feel," she murmured as she circled her fingers around him, squeezing him firmly in her fist until he groaned low. "I couldn't stop touching you even if I tried."
Pulling on him, she eased him down to where he rested over her on his hands and knees. Then, stroking his length, she touched the head to her breast. He began shuddering, his legs shaking. She rubbed it against the flesh, even around one of her nipples. With her other hand, she cupped his heavy sack, kneading.
She saw him clench his jaw and sensed he was just preventing himself from thrusting into her palm to end this. "Katja... I'm about to... come."
"Yes!" She stroked him harder, faster.
He bit out, "Like this—?"
She pressed the head directly to her aching nipple.
"Ah, God—" The words ended with a brutal yell as he ejaculated against her. She pumped her fist, shivering at the first contact. The room lit with lightning once more.
When she'd stroked him spent, he looked as if he could scarcely believe what he'd done. "I didn't expect... I didn't plan for this."
She bit her bottom lip. "I know."
Without another word, he pushed up, tucking his shaft back into his jeans, looking angry with himself. He rose to go to the luxurious bathroom, then returned with a plush towel, wetted on the end. When he sat beside her, he clearly wondered what the protocol was. He held up the towel with raised eyebrows, and she nodded, stifling a smile.
He reached out to clean her breasts with languid strokes, staring avidly. He exhaled a long breath and muttered, "I can't believe I did this."
Each of his light strokes relaxed her even more, and she gave him a lazy grin, no doubt surprising him. Hey, what could she say? She'd needed him for tonight, and he'd satisfied her thoroughly. Even if they hadn't made love.
Kaderin found it sexy as hell that he wasn't too suave and overly practiced in bed, the way she'd heard immortal men could be—nor was he jaded. He didn't try to hide how much pleasure he was feeling, or check his words, or downplay how much he ached.
She sighed, every muscle in her body relaxed. "Bastian, I thought tonight was wonderful."
"You did?" He'd just come across her breasts, watching as it happened as though out of his body. That was something he'd thought he'd go his whole life without experiencing. And though he found it hard to believe, she looked as if she couldn't be happier with him.
He shook his head again to clear it, then rose to toss the towel into the bathroom. When he returned, he leaned against the bedroom doorway and gazed down at her. She'd turned onto her side, and seemed half-asleep, but she raised her head to give him a drowsy smile. And something felt as though it shifted in his chest, twisting... aching.
Her sleek skirt was bunched at her waist, and her wisp of underwear had snagged on the fastening of her shoe. Seeing her like this, so soft and relaxed, made his chest hurt again. Frowning, he rubbed the palm of his hand hard against it.
When she murmured his name and rounded her back as if coaxing him to lie behind her, his eyes widened. He returned at once, sitting beside her. Yes, he would sleep with her. He yanked off his boots and pulled his shirt over his head, then reached up and closed all of the curtains.
He knew she would set out as soon as they landed—but for now, he planned to enjoy every aspect of being with his woman, including undressing her for bed.
He tugged the underwear free, removed her shoes, then unzipped and removed her skirt. When he lay behind her, pulling the blanket over them, he could have sworn she mumbled something about a cake.
After drawing her into his arms, he buried his face in her hair and squeezed her. He'd gone from famine to feast—no middle ground. He'd gone from having no one to call his own to having a fantasy here in his arms.
He could win her. He would win her after tonight. He'd known he would be a good husband, a good father, but he'd wondered if he could satisfy her in bed. Now he felt confident he could, since she wasn't shy about what pleased her. God, how she lets me know. He grinned against her, well aware that they slept on shredded sheets.
She sighed, flexing against him. Then as if she caught herself doing something she oughtn't, she tensed. "Tonight changes nothing, vampire."
"Tell yourself that, Valkyrie"—he brushed her hair aside, kissing her neck and making her shiver—"as much as you like."
26
"Good morning, Katja."
She mumbled something in answer. When he'd woken, she was draped over his chest, half on him, panting with sleep. He grinned, savoring the feeling. She would deny it, but his Bride liked sleeping with him. He could get used to this ultimate luxury—blond curls spilling over his chest and warm woman in his arms, his for the taking. Was she, after last night?
She'd given him the most pleasure he'd ever experienced, and she'd also given him a teasing hint of what more he could find with her. He squeezed her even closer. When she said something he didn't catch, he let up. "Sorry."
She sounded half-asleep when she asked, "Why're you always worried 'bout crushing me?"
He stared at the ceiling. "My size has not put me in good stead with women." What a vast understatement.
"Did last night," she murmured, with a yawn against him. "Your size was a panty remover."
Panty remover? He drew her up by the shoulders, and she blinked at him sleepily like a kitten peeled off a couch.
"Whaa?" she muttered. "That in good enough stead?"
He chu
ckled, settling her back, using his whole hand to cup her face against him. How could a few well-placed words begin undoing centuries of doubt—?
She shot up in bed, eyes wide. "We've landed?"
"About an hour ago. I turned the Do Not Disturb key, and the pilots left."
"What time is it?" She sprang from the bed. Naked. She dashed to the bathroom, started the shower, then flashed by on her way to the closet for clothes. So very naked.
He glanced at the bedside clock. "It's six-forty here." Where exactly was here? All he knew was that the pinpricks of sun coming through the shades were bright.
"I've got a car coming at seven!"
He sat back with his arms behind his head and knew his grin was one of pure masculine satisfaction. He'd never seen a woman get dressed before. He never wanted to miss it again.
This was what he'd imagined having a wife would be like. Seeing her dressing, enjoying tantalizing views of her beautiful body. But with her, the reality was so much better.
He hadn't, for instance, envisioned his wife's complete lack of modesty or wicked bed play. He hadn't imagined that her stunning eyes could burn with such absolute purpose and drive—or go silvery with desire.
She caught her ankle in the strap of her bag and stumbled forward, righting herself with a kind of preternatural grace. When she bit out a curse, he chuckled again.
She peered around the bathroom door and quirked an eyebrow until he raised his hands in surrender.
Soon he was treated to the light scents of her shampoo and soap that would be mixed with her own luscious scent. When he imagined her working soap over her sleek body, he shot to his feet. Not wasting a second, he stripped off his jeans and traced into the shower.
She cried out with a start, glanced down at his erection, then back up with her face flushed. Regrettably, she was already rinsed clean, and before he could touch her, she hopped out. She secured a towel around her torso and twisted one up around her hair, then dashed from the steamy room. He heard cabinets slamming in the bedroom as she hurried.
He didn't understand this obsessive need of hers to win. "Why are you so rabid about this prize?" he called out from under the water. "I've told you a hundred times before, the key will not work." He found an unopened bar of soap that didn't smell feminine and tore open the monogrammed seal.
She entered again, still in her towel, and squeezed toothpaste onto her pink toothbrush. She answered while brushing. "Ill ew." Will to.
Just as she finished brushing and exited, he finished showering, then grabbed the last towel.
On her way past the bathroom door once more, she tossed his jeans at him. He dried off, stabbed his legs in, and entered the hall—plowing right into her.
He should have known, in such a small area. Careless...
His hand shot out to catch her, but she easily checked her fall with one light step back. Her hands flew to his chest, then relaxed to rest there, rubbing a few remaining drops of water. She didn't give him that hurt look. No, she tilted her head and studied his chest, her tiny fang pressing against her bottom lip, her eyes growing silver.
Just as he was about to pick her up on the way back to the bed, she shimmied by, then hastened down the hall, hips gently swaying under her towel. Perfect for me. Suddenly, he was completely respectful of fate, since it had had blooded him with exactly the right female.
When she was out of his sight, the silky underthings in her opened clothes bag caught his attention. Kneeling down to root through them, he picked out a scant black bra and matching panties that resembled no more than artfully arranged strings. He stood and clenched them in his fists, groaning to recall tugging her silk panties aside the night before. He'd shuddered to find them so very wet...
She appeared, one hand on her hip, the other raised for her underwear. He reluctantly handed it over. When she turned and began dressing under the towel, he said, "I know a bit about the subject of time travel. And I know this key can't work. Have you ever studied the laws of general relativity?" he asked slowly, not imagining why she would have. His head tilted with each word, gaze locked on the edge of the fluttering towel. He needn't have bothered angling for a peek. She dropped the towel as soon as her underwear was on—in other words, when the string was in place.
He hissed in a breath. Again, his feet shuffled to keep himself from falling over. That ass is going to be the death of me.
"I know a bit about the subject myself," she said over her shoulder as she donned her bra. "And since the mid-twentieth century, it's been widely accepted among physicists that the possibility of time travel can be reconciled within the laws of general relativity."
His brows drew together. Perhaps he shouldn't have spoken to her so slowly. But then her words sank in. General relativity was only one argument against time travel. "Even if that were so, time travel is not compatible with the law of conservation of energy. You cannot remove matter and energy from one sphere without creating a vacuum. Nor can you take it and force it into another sphere."
Mercifully, she shimmied into her low-slung pants, though she had to bend over briefly, with her breasts threatening to spill out. Half dressed, she began combing out her long, wet hair. He sat back against the headboard once more and savored every sight.
"True. But only if you believe that all matter and energy are interconnected on a global scale," she said.
Could she be any sexier than at this moment, brushing her hair, discussing one of his favorite subjects? Somehow he managed to speak. "It must be. In a closed system, all is integrated."
Twisting the mass of curls into a knot on her head, she bared that graceful neck he couldn't seem to keep his lips from. "The earth isn't a closed system," she said with absolute authority. "There are bridges to other dimensions, even other populations like the Lore. I've been to some."
What? he thought dumbly. Christ, he believed her about this. Though it went against everything he'd learned.
And just like that, one of the foundational beliefs of his life collapsed while a slip of a female traipsed by in a silken black bra.
Shaken, he redoubled his efforts to concentrate. He wanted to convince her of this. And to be honest, he wanted to impress her. "And what about the Grandfather Paradox? What happens when a time traveler has a quantum-mechanical intrusion with his past self or his ancestors?"
"What if he kills his own grandfather? Well, if one believes tachyons—"
"You know what a tachyon is?" he nearly shouted.
She hooked her shirt at her thumbs, readying it to pull on. While she was under the tight fabric, he heard her say, "Subatomic particle. Travels faster than the speed of light." He had closed his jaw by the time she'd drawn it on all the way.
"How do you understand these things?" And how could this blooding be so precise?
"My dad was a god, and they tend to be quick like that. I inherited."
"Of course." He didn't like to be reminded of this. Riora had asked him, "Do you have any idea how high you reach for one such as her?" Yes, Riora. Yes, I do. Every day, he had a better idea, and it was killing him. He shook himself. "Tachyons are hypothetical. Their existence would threaten laws of science—"
"Like radioactivity did?" she asked in a mild tone, glancing up from lacing her boots to cast him a too-pleasant smile.
He exhaled a long breath. She was referring to a time in the early nineteen hundreds when physicists couldn't account for the phenomenon of radioactivity. They had to remain confused, embattled, until the theory of quantum mechanics was proposed.
"Clever analogy," he said, beyond impressed. Had she convinced him? No, there were dozens of other arguments to prove one couldn't go back into the past to change the future. But never had he been so glad to agree to disagree; he'd die if he didn't kiss her.
27
Sebastian lunged for her, grabbing her upper arms and tumbling with her back onto the bed.
"What are you doing?" Kaderin demanded, but couldn't manage to sound angry enough—not when she'
d been willing him to do this ever since she'd touched his gorgeous, still dampened chest.
After last night, she knew all of him was gorgeous.
She hadn't missed his heated looks while she dressed, but apparently talk about science had pushed him to the boiling point—she could feel his thick erection pressing into her. Science. She should have suspected—she'd seen all those texts in his castle, and they weren't exactly beach reads.
He sat up over her, pinning her arms above her head. In the cave, and even last night, he'd demonstrated his strength. Now, with her arms pinned, she again imagined him taking her—hard, with that rugged, flexing body...
She frowned. This morning, he'd told her, "My size has not put me in good stead with women." She believed this was one of his understatements, and suspected a woman—or women—had hurt him. So why did she now feel an overwhelming urge to claw the silly bitch's eyes out?
"Kiss me, Katja." His face was so handsome, rested. He seemed on the verge of grinning. Irresistible.
"Why would I want to do that?" she asked in a breathy voice.
"You like kissing me, Valkyrie." He sounded proud.
Oh, Freya, she did.
And then he did grin. "Christ, I enjoy being with you." A heart-stopping curving of his lips, showing his even white teeth and scarcely visible fangs against his forever tanned skin. Don't look at him. She was being charmed, warming so much to him, and she cast about for things to hate. He drinks blood. He drinks blood. He bites!
"You have to like being with me," she reminded him. "I'm your Bride."
He released her wrists and sat up. "Of course, it's mystical compulsion that's making me so attracted to you. Not the fact that you just gave me a good look at how your mind works and I admired what I saw. And it couldn't be because last night you gave me the most sexual pleasure I've ever had."
She studied his earnest expression. "Was it really?"
"Before last night and that first morning with you? By miles," he admitted quietly. She believed him, though she couldn't understand it. They hadn't even had sex. Surely he'd had women fawning over him, wanting to please him in any way. Yes, he seemed shy at times, but he'd also been a sexy, intelligent aristocrat and then a master soldier.