The Missing

tinted her cheeks a dusky pink.

    “You sound awful damn sure of yourself,” she said. Her voice was husky and rough, unsteady. The sound of it reminded him of the way she moaned when he was inside her, soft, broken little moans that spurred him on.

    He dipped his head and licked her lower lip. Then he nuzzled her neck and murmured, “Any reason I shouldn’t be sure of myself? You going to kick me out?” He leaned back and studied her face. “Might serve me right, and if you tell me to go now, I will. But that doesn’t mean I’m giving up.”

    Taige looked away, her hair falling to shield her face from him. “I’m not going to be your plaything again. If you need somebody to warm your bed, look elsewhere.”

    Cullen laughed and reached up, fisting a hand in the soft, sexy curls framing her face. Gently, he tugged her head around to face him. “You were never a plaything, Taige. And if all I wanted was a willing woman in my bed, I could find one. But I don’t want any woman, Taige. I want you. I always have.”

    Slowly, he lowered his head and covered her lips with his. He licked the seam of her lips and coaxed her to open them for him. She did, slowly, almost reluctantly, and Cullen groaned as the taste of her hit his system. He hadn’t ever had a woman who tasted as sweet as Taige. Never needed another woman like he needed her. She was like a drug: hot, potent, and devastating.

    When she kissed him back, he felt it in every pore of his body. His skin felt too tight, too hot, too small, and he burned for more. He skimmed his other hand up her body and rested it just under the curve of her jaw. She felt so hot under his hand, so silken soft. It didn’t seem possible that she was truly as soft as she had seemed in memories, in dreams, but she was.

    He needed more.

    Slowly, he straightened up and waited until her eyes met his before he ran his hand down the placket of buttons on her shirt. It was simple white cotton, veeing down in the front where six plain buttons held it closed. It ended right where the waistband of her jeans began. The shirt had driven him nuts over the past few hours, because every time she moved, he caught glimpses of smooth golden flesh. It was demure enough, not dipping low enough at the neckline to give him even a glimpse of her breasts, but the body underneath it was curved, sleekly strong, and he remembered all too well the way she had fit against him.

    He freed the first button, holding her gaze all the while. He’d stop, for now, if she told him to. It might take a two-hour swim in the Gulf before the fire inside him cooled, but he’d stop. Yet as he moved on to the second, then third button, Taige sat in front of him, frozen. Her hands were on the couch beside her, arms locked as though she had to brace her weight to keep from sinking backward. The shirt parted as he freed the last of the buttons, and he lifted his hands to smooth it down her shoulders.

    As the shirt fell away, he stared at her nearly bare torso. Her bra was simple and white, no lace, no frills, nothing but a soft sheen that glowed against her skin and cupped her breasts lovingly. She reached behind her back, but he caught her wrists in his hands, bringing them back around, and eased them to her sides. Then, still staring into her eyes, he reached around and freed the clasp of her bra.

    She shivered as he stripped the bra away and tossed it over the back of the couch. He cupped her breasts in his hands, ran his thumbs over the already stiff peaks, and watched as her head tipped back. One of those soft, sexy little moans escaped her throat, and he gritted his teeth and tried to rein his hunger in. Dipping his head, he skimmed his lips over her throat, down the delicate line of her collarbone. He pressed his lips to the plump upper curve of her breast, savoring the warm, sweet taste of her. She tasted of soap, the ocean, and Taige. Her nipples were stiff, swollen, a warm, rosy brown, shades darker than the smooth slope of her breasts. Taking one in his mouth, he bit down gently.

    Arching up against him, she cupped a hand around his nape, holding him close. Damn, her taste. She was hot and sweet under his mouth but it wasn’t enough. Cullen was dying on the inside and had been for years. This was the most alive he had felt since he’d chased her away from him, but still, he needed more. Damn it, he had to have more. He slid his hands down her sides, his fingers digging into the curve of her hips.