Tomorrow she’d tell him the rest. Tomorrow she’d figure out what to do next.
Chapter Twelve
Titus pulled back from Natasa’s mouth and looked down at her.
His pulse was a roar in his ears, his cock so hard, he was afraid if he moved this would be over long before it started. He thought he’d been dreaming, but now, as his gaze ran over her face, as he took in every freckle, every inch of creamy skin, every tiny imperfection that made her real, he realized he wasn’t fantasizing. This was happening. She had started it. And he was the luckiest son of a bitch on the planet.
“You are so beautiful.”
A blush rose in her cheeks. Her warm, silky fingers tiptoed down his back until they rested on the waistband at his hips. She fisted the fabric. “Don’t talk. Kiss me.”
She lifted her mouth to his. He let her draw him into the kiss, let her take the lead and slide her tongue along his. He wanted her to enjoy, wanted her to feel everything. Told himself to be gentle with her. Even if she thought she was fine, he didn’t want to rush things.
The memory of how hot she’d been, how close he’d come to losing her, tightened the space around his heart.
She lifted her hips and rubbed against him. Mumbled, “More.”
He moved his hand across her bare shoulder, then down her chest until he finally found her breast. Soft skin filled his hand. He rolled her nipple between his thumb and index finger, swallowing the groan from her mouth. Relished the way it echoed deep inside his chest.
Her hand moved to his hair, tangling in the long strands. The fingers of the other worked their way under his waistband and brushed against the dimples on his lower back while he kissed her ear, the pulse point at her throat, while he nibbled his way to her shoulder.
“Titus…that feels so good.”
She had no idea. Not a single emotion flowed from her into him. No pain. No memories. Nothing but sweet, blessed warmth that jacked him even higher.
He kissed his way down to her breast and finally brought it to his mouth. His tongue flicked the sensitive nipple. She groaned, arched, pulled his hair until a lick of pain shot across his skull.
Gods, she was so sexy. On fire—in a good way—and his.
He’d never wanted anyone to be his, had never wanted the burden or responsibility of a soul mate but now couldn’t imagine being without her. He kissed her other breast, laved his tongue over the nipple, and suckled. She scraped her fingernails against his scalp. He worked his way down her stomach, circling his tongue around the soft indent of her belly button and pressing soft kisses to her pale, perfect skin.
Her scent excited him. Aroused him. His cock throbbed as he pushed her legs wide, as he slid lower. He eased back to look down at her in the dim light.
“Oh, ligos Vesuvius.”
She was wet and swollen and hot. He parted her with his fingers and breathed against her mound. She planted her feet against the mattress, grasped the sheet with both hands at her hips, threw her head back, and groaned.
Mine, mine, mine… The words roared in his head. He was a man possessed, and he didn’t even care. Lowering his head, he licked her center. Then swallowed the sweet, tart, sexy taste of her on his tongue.
“Oh, gods, Titus…” She lifted her hips, fisted the sheet, and pressed against him. “More.”
He licked her again, loving every groan and mewling sound she made. He glanced up her body, watched her closed eyes tighten, watched pleasure slide over her features.
All mine…
He wanted her panting. Wanted her as desperate for him as he was for her. He flicked his tongue against her clit again and again, ran his finger down her sex, found her opening, and pressed inside. Every muscle in her body tightened. He stroked deeper. Flicked faster. Suckled.
Fire filled in his mouth, his heart, his soul. She screamed out her release and quaked beneath him. Finally collapsing against the mattress in a sweaty, sexy lump.
Victory pulsed in his veins. He brought her down gently, kissing her inner thigh, her hip, brushing his lips against her lower belly. She was drenched from his mouth, from her climax. His cock ached to be inside her, but he didn’t want to hurt her. He pressed his mouth against the curve of her breast and rested his forehead against her chest. Bracing his hands on the mattress, he breathed deep to calm his raging urge.
Her fingers slid into his hair. Stilled. “What’s wrong?”
What’s wrong? He laughed, then groaned because the friction made his dick that much harder. “Nothing. Everything’s finally right.”
“Not right,” she whispered. “Not yet anyway.”
She flipped him to his back. His eyes flew wide, not just at her strength but at her determination. She stripped his pants, climbed over his hips, grasped his cock in the tight grip of her hand, then lined herself up and lowered, taking him deep with the very first touch.
Holy…gods…
Sensations bombarded him from every side. Her slick, tight channel clenching around him. Her soft, silky skin cradling his hips and thighs. The press of her palms against his chest and the weight of her body lifting, lowering, taking him deep again and again.
He grasped her hips, rising to meet her downward stroke. Searched her eyes for any sign of discomfort. But he only saw power and need and fire. A blazing inferno that consumed him and filled that place inside that had been empty for so long.
He sat up, wrapped his arms around her, pulled her tight, and captured her mouth as she rode. She groaned. Opened. Kissed him so deeply.
This was better than anything he’d ever felt. Better than all those years alone. Better than worrying about a world he couldn’t change and always doing what someone else wanted him to do.
“Come with me, Tasa.”
“Yes.” She rode faster. Her fingers slid into his hair; her palms radiated heat against his scalp. Her body claimed his. “Yes…”
His climax burst through him like a volcano erupting in a plume of heat and light and combustible energy. He felt her tighten around him, heard her cry out her own release. Knew in those moments something inside him had just blown wide open too.
And somehow also knew, in the connection he shared with her, that turning away from the Argonauts, choosing her over everything else, might very well lead him to a place he couldn’t return from.
Isadora sipped the cup of tea that wasn’t doing much to calm her frayed edges and looked out the window at the sparkling view of Tiyrns.
The hour was early—dawn shone over the buildings and spires of the city—and though she was tired, she hadn’t slept more than an hour or so the night before. She leaned back against the wall in the window seat, pulled her knees up as far as she could, and winced when the babe inside her kicked hard, telling her he didn’t appreciate being squished.
“Okay, okay,” she muttered, stretching out her legs again on the soft seat cushion. “I get it. You’re already like your father. Demanding and irritatingly stubborn.”
A door clicked open somewhere close. She looked up, then smiled when her sister, Casey, peeked around the corner of Isadora’s bedroom suite. “You’re up earlier than I expected. No luck sleeping?”
Isadora frowned and smoothed a hand down the t-shirt stretched tight over her belly. “None. This kid already doesn’t like me. I thought that wasn’t supposed to happen for several years.”
One corner of Casey’s lips curled. Silky purple pajamas with wide cuffs at the wrists and ankles covered her slim body. “I wouldn’t know. But if memory serves, my grandmother said I was a handful from the time I was in diapers. Maybe it runs in the family.”