Drake Sisters 03 - Oceans of Fire

glowing pearl. Her mass of thick red hair fell below her waist, drawing attention to the curve of her bottom. His world of violence and betrayal was a way of life. He understood it. Trusted no one. And then there was Abigail with her laughter and warmth, with her soft, melting body and secret haven of pleasure beyond his wildest dreams.
    She stood there, holding out her hand to him, not recognizing what she meant to him.
    A roaring started somewhere in his head and consumed him. Tears burned behind his eyelids. He’d held himself in check for so long, refused to feel or think or dream, and now the dam had burst and the floodgates were wide open. He was damned if he was going to give her up. She thought she was offering a night of solace. He could feel her holding a part of herself back from him, but it wasn’t going to happen.
    Abigail Drake was his, and every single cell in his body belonged to her. He had one night to make her admit that and he wasn’t going to blow his chance.
    He enveloped her hand in his and tugged until her body was against his. He had waited four years for this moment and he couldn’t wait a moment longer. His fist clenched in her hair, his mouth found hers to catch that first small moan of surrender she always made. He reveled in that sound, that moment when he knew she would give herself to him. There’d been too many nights when he’d awakened alone, his body as hard as a rock, that small breathy sound filling his mind and bringing an ache to his heart.
    Her hands slipped to his shoulder, fingers digging into his muscles as his tongue sank deep into the sweet heat of her mouth. He pressed his aching groin against her soft belly, allowing the sensation of her skin and lush curves to push him to the edge of control. Every memory of touching her, the endless pleasure, the unbelievable love that had crept into his heart and soul so slowly he hadn’t recognized it in time to protect himself. It had been too late by the time he knew what was happening. He needed her when he had never needed anyone.
    Her mouth was velvet heat, her tongue tangling with his, heightening his pleasure. He could barely breathe as he skimmed his hands possessively over her.
    “You have too many clothes on, Sasha,” she complained.
    Reluctant to break their kiss, his teeth teased at her lower lip. He raised his head, taking just enough time to pull his shirt over his head and toss it aside. Before he could reach for her again her palm slid over the front of his slacks. His body shuddered at the sudden heat and friction as she rubbed him through the material.
    “Way too many clothes,” she emphasized, looking up into his eyes.

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    He was lost and he knew it. How many times had he drowned in her gaze? Abbey was a craving he’d never be over. He had stopped fighting the fact that he needed her. It was only a matter of making her realize she needed him just as much. He rid himself of his clothes, carelessly dropping them as he reached again for her, lowering her to the bed.
    He found the warmth of her neck, kissing and biting gently, teasing her ear, her throat. Her nipples pressed into the hard muscles of his chest, only the lace separating skin. She was making soft sounds of pleasure, her nails digging into his back and her hips moving restlessly beneath him.
    His body burned with a fever of desire. He kissed his way over the swell of her breasts to find the tight hard buds peaking through the red lace. “You’re so beautiful.” He could only stare at her while the moonlight caressed her body. He bent his head slowly and licked a curling heat over each nipple. Her body reacted, muscles contracting, hips jerking wildly. She moaned with the intensity of her pleasure.
    Abbey never held anything back from him, always showing him how much she wanted him. The knowledge helped him to hang on to his control when he wanted her so much. He was determined to go slow and bring her to the same agonizing intensity that held him in its grip.
    She arched into him, pushing her breast toward his mouth in invitation, her fists clenching in his hair. He lowered his head, his mouth closing hotly over her nipple, suckling with greedy lust. His hand moved up her leg to her thigh. He could feel her heat, the dampness on the red lace barrier between them. She said his name, a breathy, aching sound, pleading with him.
    He stroked her silken thighs as he