Psy & Changelings 10 - Kiss of Snow

see in her passion flushed face after their first time together.
    Fingers going motionless, she searched his eyes. “All right.” It was a solemn whisper, as if she’d read his thoughts. “Kiss me before you leave.”
    “Baby”—a nip of that lush lower lip—“I have plans to do a lot more than that.” He wouldn’t take her, not tonight, but neither was he noble enough to walk away without indulging himself with a long, deep taste.
    Her nails dug into his nape. “How far?”
    So serious. It turned his wolf playful. “I intend to get to second base.”
    When her chest rose up in a jagged breath, he knew full well she understood the sexual reference. “What’s second base on a man?”
    Blinking, he raised his head, having never had cause to consider that question. “The same, I guess.”
    “Then take off your shirt.” She undid the first button, went for the second.
    A hundred images flashed into his mind, all of them involving the sweet heat of her breasts rubbing against his bare chest. Gritting his teeth, he grabbed her hands in one of his and pinned them above her head. “No touching.”
    “Hawke—”
    Kissing the complaint off her lips, he slipped his hand under her T-shirt to spread his fingers over the taut silk of her abdomen. Her skin quivered as he moved that hand up to settle over her ribs, her heartbeat jagged under his skin. “Yes?” he whispered, nuzzling a kiss to the tender spot beneath her ear. “It’ll feel so good.” For both of them.
    Her wrists flexed in his grip, but she didn’t attempt to pull away. “Yes.” Husky acquiescence.
    Lifting his head from the intoxication of her skin, he held her gaze as he moved his hand up just enough to brush his thumb along the underside of her breast. She came up off the bed, pushing her soft flesh into his touch. Shuddering, he cupped her, squeezed her, rolled her nipple between his fingertips to her restless movements, her erotic cries. His mouth watered to push up her T-shirt, taste the hard little nub.
    It took every ounce of will he had not to reach down, undo the damn zipper on his jeans and put her fingers on him. Patience. Patience. He chanted the word at the back of his mind as he moved his hand to her neglected breast, as he petted her to piercing need . . . and found he was rocking his cock against the feminine arousal he could taste so earthy and rich on his tongue.
    Shit.
    Sienna stared up in disbelief as he jerked up and out of the bed. Her nipples peaked against the soft cotton of her T-shirt, taunting him. “You can’t just—”
    “Leave you hot and frustrated?” Leaning down with his hands braced on either side of her, he closed his teeth over one provocative nub, wetting the cloth with his tongue. Her cry was sharp, her arousal a lash against his senses. “I damn well can,” he said, raising his head, “when my cock is about to break in half.”
    Chest rising and falling as she gulped in air, she shook her head. “Not my fault.”
    “All your fault.” Not daring another kiss, he cupped her jaw, stroked his thumb over her lower lip. “Damn, but I like making out with you Sienna. Let’s do it again tomorrow.”
    He left to the sound of a feminine snarl. It made his lips curve into a feral smile.
     
     
    SASCHA was in the large, comfortable chair in the living room, Nadiya in her arms when Lucas stepped out for a second. He walked back in with an envelope in his hand. “Kit said this was delivered to the office by courier earlier today. Addressed to both of us.”
    Smiling at the thought of the youth who was growing into a strong, wonderful man in front of her eyes, she said, “Has he gone?”
    A nod. “He had a perimeter shift, but he’s going to drop by in the morning before he heads home. Not to see either of us, of course.”
    Laughing, she watched Lucas tear open the letter, scan it. His own grin faded. “According to this,” he said, “an anonymous benefactor has opened a trust fund worth five million dollars in Naya’s name for her education, the balance to be paid out when she’s twenty-five.”
    Sascha let Naya grip her finger as their little cat yawned, settled back down to nap some more. “Mother.”
    Placing the letter on the coffee table, Lucas said, “What do you want to do?”
    She loved him so much, but it was at moments like this that it struck her how very lucky she was. So many men would’ve rejected the trust fund out of hand, never asking the why of it all. “I’ve come