Ghostwalker 02 - Mind Game

have my wicked way with you no matter what.”

    “Are you now?” She shifted, a slow, lazy roll over with his body over hers so that her skin rubbed against his skin. The ache in her breasts grew. The throbbing between her legs became more insistent. His shoulders were wide, blocking out the sun, his eyes black with hunger. She traced his strong jaw with loving fingers. “I have no say in this at all?”

    “None,” he declared. “This is all mine.” His face was close to hers, his warm breath teasing her skin. He kissed her, a long, hard kiss that told her his slow, leisurely manner was a facade. He was boiling inside, a volcanic eruption imminent. Deliberately, Dahlia trailed her fingertips over his belly. She smiled as she felt the reaction, his muscles tightening, the long thick length of him hardening even more against her thigh.

    He pushed her hands away from him, took her glass of lemonade from her, tilting the glass so that the ice-cold contents splashed on her stomach and raced to her belly button.

    Immediately he followed the path of the liquid, his tongue swirling over her bare skin, lapping at the underside of her breast, along her ribs, teasing her stomach and navel until her hips writhed beneath him.

    His arm clamped over her thighs. “Don’t move. I just want to indulge myself.”

    Dahlia lay back, her arms stretched over her head, her body open to his exploration. She loved him in this mood. “Go ahead, who am I to stop your fun.”

    He pulled her thighs apart and pushed his hand into her heat. He was a little rough, his hands hard as they massaged her thighs and his fingers pushed through her wet folds, but her body and her heart always wanted more.

    She could taste her own sexual excitement, lying there open to him in the sun, an offering to him as his tongue made a foray lower, teasing her, taunting her, claiming her body for his own. He always made her feel as if she belonged to him. As if he belonged to her. She shivered as his tongue plunged deep and he held her helpless under his larger, stronger body. He always made her feel safe and excited rather than vulnerable.

    He lapped at her, licking her as if she were filled with honey and he needed every drop just to live. A sound escaped her throat. She tried to push into his hungry mouth, but his arm was clamped hard around her thighs, making it impossible. His teeth scraped at the tender flesh just inside her thigh. He lifted her hips, dragged her to him, allowing his sexual appetite to increase. The energy flowed around them, massed between them.

    Dahlia recognized it, embraced it, allowing it to take her over, swamp her with the same driving obsession of hunger. Her breasts ached until she cupped them, wanting to relieve the ache. Instantly he pulled her hands away from her body and took possession of her breasts, claiming her for his own. He suckled strongly, the rhythm in time with his fingers as they drove in and out of her, going deep, pushing her needs higher and higher.

    Excitement flushed her body, made her so wet and welcoming she could barely keep from screaming. Her fingers tangled in his hair and she tried to tug, to bring him over her, to make him enter her. “I want you so much, Nicolas, hurry up.”

    Her breathless gasps only fueled the fire raging in him. Elusive Dahlia. She refused to commit to him. It made him crazy sometimes. He wanted to bind her to him, even if all he had was the sexual firestorm neither could ever sufficiently put out. She moved under him like so much heated silk. She tasted of honey and strawberry. She matched his every sexual hunger, never denied him anything. Yet he always felt her slipping away from him.

    He lifted his head to look at her face. The sexual need was etched there, just as he knew it was on his face. “Marry me, Dahlia. Stay with me forever.”

    She stilled beneath his hands, his mouth. He couldn’t believe the plea had slipped out when he knew she wasn’t ready. He lowered his mouth to her breast, lapping at her nipple, suckling there, while his fingers pushed deeper into her body.

    Dahlia’s gaze was on the flames dancing around the pool. They tried to save their hottest lovemaking for outdoors, near the water where they knew it was safer. “Are you certain, Nicolas?”

    He went just as still, lifting his head to look down at her. Shocked. Hope was a terrible thing, pushing its way into his heart and soul. “You know I love you, Dahlia. I never want to be