Ghostwalker 07 - Murder Game

straight with wanting her. He struggled to keep his hands gentle, the touch of his mouth tender, when he felt ravenous.

    "We're in a hell of a mess, Tansy. You know that, don't you?" His mouth skimmed down her eyelids, slid over the tracks of her tears, teased at the corners of her mouth.

    She swallowed hard, blinking up at him, a mixture of nervous apprehension and shaken desire. Her hands on his shoulders trembled, her soft breasts pushed against his chest as his breath quickened in response to the way his teeth tugged at her lower lip. She made a s all helpless sound of assent, breathy and fe
    m
    minine, leaning into him so that he closed
    his eyes, savoring the feel of her body against his.

    He wasn't going to survive this night if he couldn't have her. Not now, not when the memories were so close and he couldn't bury the rage deep enough. He needed her soft body and the compassion and light in her mind. There was no other way to alleviate the darkness surrounding his soul or the piercing coldness in his heart. Salvation lay in this woman. He ached for her, for both of them. Life wouldn't be easy with him, and the things he would ask—no, demand—of her were soul-destroying, but he knew he didn't have a choice. He couldn't walk away from her. He just wasn't that strong.

    He couldn't wait another minute, drawing her closer, settling his mouth over hers, ABC Amber LIT Converter
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    sinking into her heat, the paradise of her soft, moist mouth, his tongue tangling with hers.
    He stroked, felt the answering shudder of pleasure in her body, the hitch in her breath.
    She was shy, untutored, and it occurred to him Tansy couldn't have kissed many men—if any. Something dark and possessive flared with hot satisfaction at the idea that no other man had ever touched her.

    Still kissing her, he dragged his shirt open, wanting to be skin to skin. His breath strangled in his lungs, his shaft so hard he was afraid he might explode. He needed to crawl inside of her, share her skin, bury himself deep so she could pour the sun over him and steer him away from the shadows always clawing pieces out of him.

    Despite his driving need, he kissed her with tenderness, savoring the taste and texture of her mouth, the soft, moist warmth that encased him as he stroked and cajoled, blatantly seducing her. Cinnamon had never tasted like sin. Skin had never felt so soft to him.
    Control was his code, his mantra, and few things in his life had ever shaken it, and no people, certainly not a woman, until this moment. He felt himself tremble, felt the shudder of need, the desperation in his mind.

    His mouth moved on hers, deepening the kiss, while a fever ignited a slow burn in his belly. She wasn't wearing a bra. He'd been more than conscious of that all day, and now he tugged the hem of her shirt up and over her head, clamping his arm around her until her breasts were tight against the muscles of his chest. She felt like heaven.

    Tansy knew she was getting in too deep. She was letting him take her over, sacrificing her body to the darkness in him, igniting a fire neither of them was going to be able to pu t
    out easily. He had used her own weakness against her to bring her back to him, and now he was seducing her. She wanted the hot pleasure of his mouth, the feel of his hard body against hers and the strength in his arms. She craved the taste and texture of him, but most of all, she needed to take the pain out of his eyes and erase it from his mind.

    His hand swept over her belly and every muscle bunched beneath his palm. His f n
    i gertips felt hard and calloused, a strange bristle-like stroke that sent shivers of excitement down her spine and arousal tingling in her thighs. He kis e s d her throat, down
    her shoulder, and then covered the tip of her breast with his mouth, suckling strongly. She nearly fell, her legs going weak and her core going liquid.

    "Kadan?" Her fist clenched in his hair, and her voice trembled. A breathy little moan escaped her throat. Nothing had ever made her feel like he did. Wanted. Wanton. Sexy.
    Frightened. She was confused. She was drowning in the sensations his tongue and teeth on her nipple created.

    "It's all right, baby, I've got you," he assured her softly. "You're so soft, so perfect I can barely breathe."

    She watched him through half-closed eyes, his tongue taking long licks at her nipple,