Sanctuary

that?”
    She closed her eyes briefly, then willed herself to open them. “No.”
    “Good.” He relaxed his hand, brushed it over her cheek. Another moment stolen, he thought when her eyes opened and met his. “I’d hate to have to argue with you when I’m still wanting you. Give me more, Jo Ellen.” His mouth lowered to tease her. “Don’t make me take it this time.”
    Her arms lifted, wrapped around him. “I’m so afraid of you.”
    “I know. Give me more anyway. Take a chance.”
    His mouth stayed gentle, waiting for hers to answer, then to demand. He wanted more, much more, than that rough and edgy release they’d offered each other. More than the animal lunge of hot blood. When she sighed out his name he knew he had the beginnings of it.
    Her mouth grew more hungry, her hands began to roam. Fresh need built in her quickly, as though it had never been met. She craved the taste of his skin and took her mouth on a journey over his face and throat. With a murmur of approval, she rolled with him until she stretched across his body with the freedom to do as she pleased.
    The wind kicked, rattling the screen door on its hinges. The house shuddered beneath them. In contrast they moved slowly, almost languidly. Touch and taste, sigh and murmur. She lost herself in the easy sway of it, the shift and glide of bodies, rhythms set and matched.
    She thought she could float over him, inch by inch, and wonder as she set each separate muscle to quivering.
    He eased her back, sitting up to slide her into his lap. It was tenderness he needed for both of them now, to soothe the pain already suffered. And the pain yet to come.
    Their eyes held as he lowered his mouth to hers, took the kiss deep, gradually deep so that the warmth from it flushed over her. The intimacy of it shimmered through her. She might have resisted, she lifted a hand to his chest as if to do so. But her limbs went limp, and she was lost.
    And she gave him more.
    It was surrender he wanted, for both of them. His and hers. A yielding. Soft, liquid kisses filled them both, nudged them lazily toward excitement. When he cupped her, her moan was quiet and ended on a little gasp of pleasure. He took her up slowly so that the orgasm was long and sleek.
    They each trembled, and when she reached for him, thrilling to find him hard and ready, her lips curved against his.
    “Again,” she murmured. “Just like that. Again.”
    The pleasure rolled through her, layer by layer to whirl in her head like wine. Still shimmering from it, she shifted, until her body was over his and the thick beat of his heart was under her mouth.
    “I love what you can do to me.” She slid down, spreading light, open-mouthed kisses down to his belly. “I want to know I can do it to you.”
    His skin quivered when she closed that hot, generous mouth over him. Dark pleasure blurred his vision, and the roar in his head drowned out the rain. She drove him to the brink, where he clung to pleasure and control and sanity only by slippery fingertips.
    She rose up over him, her body glimmering in the murky light. She lowered to him, took him in, arched back, took him deeper. Her arms lifted up, folded behind her head as if in triumph. Her eyes met his, stared intently into that smoky gray as she began to move.
    Slowly, torturously. And her body shivered when his hands closed hard and possessive over her breasts. Smoothly, silkily. His breath caught and strangled as she braced her own hands on his chest.
    Her head fell back, her body going arrow-taut and her muscles clamping hard around him as she rode herself to peak. Yet even as her heart tripped, her brain staggered, her system revved greedily for more. She couldn’t bear it, couldn’t stop it. Her body drove, forward, back, racing for new pleasure.
    Sweat dewed her skin. When he levered himself up to surround her nipple with his mouth, he tasted salt and heat. She came again, crying out in shock and near panic. Holding tight to her, he let go of the edge and took them both flying.
    Her lungs were burning, her throat dry as dust. She tried to swallow, then gave up and dropped her head on his shoulder. When her ears stopped ringing, she heard the silence.
    “It’s stopped raining.”
    “Mmm-hmm.”
    With a laugh she nearly managed to take a full breath. “We’re going to have a hell of a time explaining these rug burns.” Enjoying the sensation, she ran her hands over his damp back. “I need about a gallon of