“The fire . . .” she began.
He shook his head, his eyes flipping up to meet hers. “I want to feel it. On my lips, in my mouth. I’m not worried. You won’t hurt me.”
But you’ll hurt me, she thought. And not physically.
He licked her, right there where all emotion and sensation had spiraled and made her aware of the entire universe. Her hips bucked off the bed, but he clamped his hands around her thighs. Held her down. She had no strength, no fight left. Had she ever truly had any when it came to him?
His mouth closed over her, a soft fastening of the lips and a deliberate swirl of the tongue. She got lost in it, in its aching pace, in the shivers he was drawing out from her again.
Then she did a dumb thing. She opened her eyes, lifted her head and looked down. Looked at the roll of his mouth over her flesh, the way he ate her as though he were savoring his last meal, the smooth, even bob of his head between her legs. It was dumb because she’d never be able to forget the squeeze of his eyelids, or the appearance of his tongue as he dragged it up the sensitive seam of her body. Dumb because she knew she would think of and want this every day up until the moment she died, and she had no idea what was going to happen to either of them after tomorrow.
A sob wracked out of her as she came. She was crying and coming, her chest heaving with sorrow and pleasure, and she didn’t know which to trust in more.
When she came down, when her body ceased its tremors and there were paths of wetness from the corners of her eyes to the bedspread, Griffin still had his mouth on her, only this time it was everywhere: her inner thighs, her hip bones, the divots between her stomach muscles. When he clamped his lips over her nipple again, a strange heat coated his tongue. Spicy, zinging. Her own.
He rose up to fill her vision again. “Your fire is delicious.”
On his elbows above her, staring into her face, he nudged his cock inside her at last. Her vision winked and blurred, and she blamed the look in his eyes, that pure bliss shooting back at her, that something she was so afraid to voice but could name with the snap of her fingers.
And then he was fully inside her. Griffin Aames was inside her. Filling her from spirit to heart, soul to mind. She felt she might split apart from all that consumed her, and she had no idea what to do about that. As his forehead came down to touch hers, she gripped his short hair. Right before she closed her eyes against the intensity of his nearness, she knew she was lost. And this new place—a state of mind she’d never known before and was wandering through with little to no direction—was truly blissful.
Then he withdrew and pushed back into her with renewed power. Somehow larger, somehow deeper. The sounds that flowed up and out of their throats gave voice to indescribable feeling. Fire and water, combining inside her body.
They’d done this before, but the frenzied nature of their previous sexual encounters had masked the intensity of the two elements truly coming together. Now, with every centimeter of movement creating a mile of sensation, she was wholly aware of how warm her body was growing, how it was taking him in and wrapping around his element, combining with it. Intensifying it. He was water and ice and steam, and she could almost see that steam rising from the mountains of his shoulders, trickling through the lines made by his flexing muscles.
Another thrust, slow and hard. She discovered she did not want to demand speed this time. She did not want a fuck like they’d already had. No, she wanted more of this—this protective, intense, claiming penetration that locked their eyes as firmly as it joined their bodies.
His hips were heavenly, the way they scooped up and into her. He moved like water itself, smooth and flowing, its power deceptively beautiful and innocent looking. And then . . . suddenly . . . just for a moment . . . it seemed like he was water.
His whole body went translucent and shimmering at the edges, like he was losing control of who he was and who his body longed to be. Then he was back again, his olive skin as solid and lovely and taut as it had always been. The thought that she might have sparked that in him made her insane with lust.
She wanted to carve a stone prayer to the Queen asking if she could keep this man inside her forever and ever. That she could just keep this man, period.
Griffin’s chin jutted out, his face reddening, his teeth clenching. She could feel her inner fire starting to release, which meant that he could, too. Little pinpricks of orange and sparkling gold turned her vision into a dreamy wonderland, and she loved the way Griffin appeared to her through it. Her water elemental, overlaid by flames.
They’d been together enough for him to remember what got her off, and he did it without prompting. He shoved a hand under her ass and hoisted her up, tilting her into the delicious angle that had him stroking the most perfect place inside. He held tight to her, not letting her drop, driving into her with increased force. Increased speed.
She rode it out, arms thrust to the side, hips high in the air, legs holding on to the man driving into her. She felt utterly powerless, a slave to the fire and the man who held her body so perfectly . . . and it was the greatest feeling in the world.
When she came again, the fire rolled through her with such force she thought she might ignite. She’d take the bed and the B and B and all of the Big Island with her, and not even the great Fire Source could match the way he was making her feel.
Her throat went raw with the sounds she made. Fire licked behind her eyelids, because she couldn’t keep them open any longer. The conflagration at last began to peter out, but the experience wasn’t over, because Griffin roared as he came. She distinctly felt him tighten and swell, the stroke of him turning into a wonderful rhythm.
Then he was cool inside her, a splash of water. An ocean of peace and power.
When at last he withdrew and lowered her ass back to the bed, she was numb to everything but the gentle rub of his skin against hers. Maybe it was hours later—maybe it was minutes—but she was still lying there, held in his arms, one of his hands stroking down her hair, one leg thrown over her thighs, claiming her.
Despite her best intentions, despite her wishes and dreams and all that she knew she must do tomorrow, she let herself be taken.
SIXTEEN
Regrettably, the sun rose.
Griffin opened his eyes to find Keko already awake. She lay on her back naked, her long, strong legs crossed at the ankles, fingers interlaced over her belly. Her dark nipples rose and fell as she breathed, and he found that he could still taste them on his tongue.
Her head was turned on the pillow toward him, a thick chunk of black hair swooping over her ear and under her chin to make a dark line across her neck. Despite the new light coming through the curtains, her eyes were somber and shadowed, and they absorbed everything. No amount of water magic could save him from drowning in her fire, and it did not frighten him. He reached out and covered her hands with one of his, giving her a mild tug, a subtle hint that he wanted her arms around him. On him. It had the opposite effect.
Instead of Keko rolling into him, she yanked away from his touch. Throwing her legs over the edge of the bed, she pressed her hands to the mattress. He stared at her back and triceps, at the shadowed lines between her muscles, at the sexy dimples above her ass.
Then he noticed the way she was almost gasping for breath. “Keko?”
So many things had happened between them last night, many of which he’d never be able to name, nor would he ever want to. They were singular occurrences, precious seconds and moments that could never be repeated. He’d distinctly felt, in a triumphant instant, when all the walls between them had been completely demolished, crackling into a zillion pieces. Even that final wall had come down—the one he’d been trying to remove slowly, brick by brick—and he’d nearly shouted with relief. With her body surrounding his, he sensed that she’d decided to turn back from her quest. He’d drifted into sleep holding on to that final thought, that he’d succeeded in keeping her alive. Keeping her with him.