Ghostwalker 07 - Murder Game

swell of her breasts and narrow rib cage, the flat of her tummy and finally the vee of curls at the junction of her legs. When the shirt was open all the way, his fingers did another slow curl inside her and began to stroke again, pushing deep.

CHAPTER SEVEN

    Tansy's breath caught in her throat. Her body pulsed with need. Kadan could turn her into a melting cauldron of liquid heat with one intense look. Hot excitement poured through her veins. He was all muscle and strength. And he was completely, utterly, focused on her. He made her feel as if he had to have her. As if waiting one more moment might kill him. He didn't say much. He just looked at her, his eyes dark with lust, with possession, and every fiber of her being surrendered to the demand in his steady gaze.

    His calloused hand was hot on her skin, and every muscle in her body tensed. He knew every shadow and curve intimately, and she craved his touch. Craved it. After a lifetime of never touching or being touched, she felt like a cat, pleasured by the caressing strokes, arching her back, pushing her hips upward against his hand, needy for whatever he gave her.

    The pad of his thumb, with the strange feel of velvet bristles, made lazy circles on the inside of her thigh, slid upward to caress the crease between her buttocks and her thigh.
    A
    soft moan escaped, needy and hot and so unlike her, although she was afraid that with Kadan she'd turned into a very sexual being. Blood thundered in her pulse, roared in her ears, and throbbed in her clit, in time with the mounting tension in her womb.

    There was something very arousing about lying sprawled across a man's lap, shirt open, bare breasts spilling out, and his hands wandering possessively up her thighs, fingers circling and disappearing inside her body, as if her body belonged to him and not her. His face was dark and intent, hooded eyes on the rise and fall of her breasts. There was satisfaction in the carved, sensual lines of his face as he watched her breathing change to ragged gasps and the wild color flush all over her.

    Heat radiated from him, and in his lap his shaft grew into a monster of need. He pressed ABC Amber LIT Converter
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    against her tightly, letting her feel the way he responded to her eager, wet body. "Look at me, Tansy." His voice was harsh. "I want to see your face when I take you over the edge."

    She loved how rough he soun e
    d d, that edge to his tone, that dark, intense desire, the lines that seemed deeper, the way her skin burned as his gaze slid so possessively over her. His fingers straightened, jabbed deep, filling her sheath, stretching the soft, slick, velvet folds.
    She gasped and bucked, as his thumb pressed down relentlessly on her hard bud.

    "You're so tight, baby," he whispered, his teeth tugging at her earlobe. "Each time I push deep inside, you get wetter and hotter." His tongue licked along her ear, swirled down her neck. His teeth teased at her skin.

    He plunged into her tight depths again, watching her face, drinking in her gasps of pleasure, the way her eyes widened and her nipples peaked. Her thighs tensed; her stomach muscles bunched. It seemed so decadent, Tansy sprawled across him, her soft body open for his every touch, receptive to his every desire.

    He had never thought he'd have a woman of his own, let alone one he craved, one he felt bonded to, skin to skin, mind to mind. It had happened before he'd had a chance to think, to even know or understand, but something in her drove out the cold and replaced ice with heat. Every time he looked at her, he wanted to touch, to give her pleasure, to see her eyes glaze over with heated desire just for him. Salvation. Redemption maybe.
    Whatever it was, and he didn't even care, she was his and he was hers.

    Moisture coated his fingers, thick and hot. Her sheath was so damned tight his cock jerked with anticipation. He thrust another finger deep, stretching her a bit, plunging and retracting, watching her face, her heightened breathing, that telltale flush, and the sheen in her eyes. He took his time, bringing her to the edge of her climax, loving her face, the beauty of need. He reveled in the way her body rode his hand almost helplessly while little whimpers and pleas escaped.

    If this wasn't love, he didn't know what was. He wanted her with every cell in his body.
    He knew she'd been born for him. And he