“Please,” I tell him, arching my back in a desperate need to get closer, to feel the heavy weight of his body against my own.
A flick of his hand and the shirt is gone. And so are the rest of our clothes.
“I’m beginning to really like that trick,” I murmur against his mouth.
He grins, though he doesn’t stop kissing me, even for a moment. “Me, too.” Then he’s reaching between us, his fingers stroking around and over my clit before dipping down to test my readiness.
“Fuck. You’re so tight. So hot.”
“So ready for you,” I tell him, hitching my legs a little tighter around his waist. “Please, Declan, don’t make me wait. I need you.”
“I thought you liked foreplay?” he whispers as he trails hot kisses over my cheek, down my jaw.
“Fuck foreplay!”
I feel his grin against my neck. “I’d rather fuck you.”
And then he does, slipping inside me so easily, so perfectly. This is what it means to be meant for someone, this glorious, wonderful, perfect fit. Not just in our bodies, but in our souls. I can feel his dark, wild spirit tangling with my own, the connection between us locking more tightly into place with each breath we take. With each slide of his body into mine.
I turn my face away, but his hand comes up, grasps my chin. “Look at me, Xandra. Please. Look at me.”
I do, because I can’t say no to him. Not when he uses that gravelly deep voice of his. And not when every moment, every movement, fuses our souls more deeply together. My eyes lock on his, and in their depths I see the same joy and terror that I know he can see in mine.
I’ve never felt more vulnerable in my life, and there’s a voice, deep inside me, that’s urging me to look away. To hold myself back. Not to give him everything when our future is still so uncertain.
I ignore it, shove it back down as pleasure races up my spine and nearly overwhelms me with its intensity. Because no matter what pain the future brings, no matter what danger or disaster is waiting for us, this connection between us is completely and utterly worth it.
I love you.
The words tremble in my soul, hover on my lips. But before I can say them, before I can give him the reassurance we both so desperately need, Declan slams his mouth down on mine. He strokes one thumb over my nipple, another over my clit. And with a final thrust of his hips, he sends me hurtling over the edge into a climax so electric it’s like magic itself.
Seventeen
Once we can both breathe again, I expect Declan to lower me to the ground. I’m not sure my legs will support me after that, but I’m willing to give it the old college try. Only Declan doesn’t pull away, doesn’t even pull out of me. Instead, he just leans against me, eyes closed, forehead pressed to mine, and just breathes.
“Am I too heavy?” he finally, reluctantly, asks.
I tighten my arms around his shoulders. “You’re perfect.”
He grins. “It’s about time you figured that out.”
“And so modest, too.”
“Modesty is overrated.”
“Obviously.” I press kisses along the curve of his shoulder. “You know,” I tell him in between soft, sweet smooches, “our fight might be over, but we still need to talk out the points we disagree on.”
He groans and shifts a little, though he doesn’t pull away. The slight movement sets off a bunch of sensations deep inside me and I gasp. Tremble, despite myself.
His laugh is low and sexy as he moves again. This time he shifts so that his palm rests against my lower abdomen, his fingers curling possessively over my sex. It’s different from the other times he’s touched me, though, because the heat I’m feeling is more than just sex. It’s a fine, electric vibration that originates in his fingertips and works its way—slowly, sensuously—over my skin, and then through it, to what lies beneath.
“What are you—” I break off as a wave of pleasure slams through me, before finally gasping, “What are you doing?”
“If you don’t know, I must be doing it wrong,” he teases as he leans in for a kiss. As he does, another shock wave of pleasure shoots through me, this one bringing me to the very brink of orgasm all over again.
“You’re not—” I gasp, twisting my hips to maximize the sensations sparking inside me, then try again. “You’re not going to distract me with sex this time.”
His lips smile against my own. “Hate to be the one to break it to you, but I think I already have.” I feel another shock of electricity—this one longer and more intense than the ones that came before.
I scream a little, claw at his back in a desperate need to get closer. “Finish it,” I demand when I can think again.
“What if I don’t want to?” Yet another pulse sets my nerve endings jangling. “I kind of like you like this, all sexy and demanding.”
I grab his hair in my fists, yank his head back. “I’ll show you demanding! Finish it!” I growl against his lips.
“What’s the magic word?” he asks, even as he slides one of those magic fingertips of his against my clit.
“Please!”
“I was thinking more along the lines of abracadabra, but please works, too.” He bends his head, pulls one of my nipples into his mouth. And with another jolt of electricity straight to my sex, sends me tumbling into a second orgasm.
It takes me even longer to come down this time, because Declan keeps petting and kissing and touching me. Every time I think I’ve caught my breath, another wave crashes through me until finally, in self-defense, I sink my teeth into his heavily muscled shoulder.
He jerks against me with a groan. I like the sound, so I do it a second time, relishing the way such a simple touch from me can send him spiraling into another release as well.
“Now,” I tell him after our heart rates settle and he finally stops kissing me, “it’s time to talk about the ACW.”
With a groan, Declan pulls back and lets me slide slowly to the floor. He keeps an arm around me—just to make sure I’m steady on my feet, even as he conjures our clothes back up.
“That’s a pretty parlor trick,” I tell him as I grab my jeans out of thin air. “Ever thought about including it in the show?”
“To do that, either I’d have to get naked or I’d have to strip a member of the audience. Neither seems an optimum choice for my career.”
“You could get a really cute assistant. Strip her down on stage. I’m sure the male contingent of your audience won’t mind.”
“Maybe not,” he answers with a smirk. “But transubstantiation only works if I’m really motivated. Maybe if you were up on stage with me . . .”
It’s my turn to smirk. “Dream on, buddy.”
“Oh, I will.” My bra is dangling from his fingers when he swoops in for another kiss.
After he’s dressed and I’ve snagged some more food for him from the front of the house, I settle down behind my desk and try to figure out the best way to launch into the conversation we need to have. In the end, Declan does it for me.
“You can try to reason with me all you want, Xandra, but when it comes to the ACW, I’m going to do what I see fit.”
“Even if what you see fit to do causes a major war?”
“Hard to have a war if all the players are dead,” he says, taking a huge bite of the steak sandwich I made him.
“Well, that’s impressive reasoning.” My tone says it’s anything but. Declan just grins at me and forks up a bite of pasta salad.
“Right now we have a bigger problem than what happened to me. We both know that the Council, even now, is scrambling to figure out what happened to Alride so that they can annihilate the threat.”