Неизвестно - Megan's mate

Her breath caught; her head lolled back.

You're so beautiful, Meg. So soft.

He pressed a kiss to her shoulder while his hands gently molded, caressed, aroused.

So sweet.

He was afraid his hands were too big, too rough. As a result, his touch was stunningly tender, humming over her heating skin. They slicked down her sides, leaving tremors in their wake as he eased the loose pants from her hips.

Then those fingertips moved over her, gliding over curves until her shaking breathing turned to unsteady moans.

He undressed, watching her heavy eyes flutter open, seeing the misty blue focus on him, the pupils dilate.

Now, she thought, and her heart stuttered madly in her throat. He would take her now, and ease this glorious ache he'd stirred to life inside her. Sweet and eager, her mouth lifted to his. He gathered her close, laid her on the bed as gently as he might have laid her in a pool of rose petals. She arched to him, accepting, braced for the torrent. He used only his lips, soft as the rain, savoring her flesh as though it were a banquet of the most delicate flavors. Then his hands, big and hard-palmed, skimmed, lingered, discovered.

Nothing could have prepared her. If she'd had a hundred lovers, none could have given more, or taken more. She was lost in a gently rocking sea of sensation, undone by patience, weakened by tenderness.

Her breathing slowed, deepened, even as her heart rate soared. She felt the brush of his hair on her breast before his mouth claimed it, heard his quiet, satisfied groan of pleasure as he suckled. Heard his sign as he circled and teased with his tongue.

She sank, fathoms deep, in warm, clear waters.

She didn't know when those waters began to chum. The storm gathered so slowly, so subtly. It seemed one moment she was drifting, and the next floundering. She couldn't get her breath, no matter how deeply she gasped for air. Her mind, suddenly reeling, struggled for the surface, even as her body coiled and tensed.

Nathaniel.

She grabbed at him, her fingers digging into his flesh.

I can't

But he covered her mouth with his, swallowing her gasps, savoring her moan, as the first dizzy climax racked her.

She reared against his hand, instinctively urging him on as hot red waves of pleasure swept her up. Her neat, rounded nails scored his shoulders before her hands, her body, even her mind, went limp.

Megan. God.

She was so hot, so wet. He pressed his tips to her throat as he fought to level his own breathing. Pleasuring a woman had always pleasured him. But not tike this. Never tike this. He felt tike a king and a beggar all at once.

Her stunned response aroused him unbearably. All he could do was wallow in her, absorbing her shock waves, and his own, feeling each and every nerve in his body sizzle and spark.

He wanted to give her more. Had to give her more. Strapping down his own grinding needs, he slipped inside her, letting himself rock with the pleasure of her quick shudder, her broken sigh.

She was so small. He had to remind himself again and again that she was small, all delicate bones and fragile skin. That she was innocent, and nearly as untouched as a virgin. So while the blood pounded in his head, his heart, his loins, he took her gently, his hands fisted on the bedspread for fear he would touch her and bruise.

He felt her body contract, explode. And then she said his name.

He pressed his lips to hers again, and followed her over.

The rain was still drumming. As she slowly swam back to reality, she heard its steady beat on the roof. She lay still, her hand tangled in Nathaniel's hair, her body glowing. She realized she had a smile on her face.

She began to hum.

Nathaniel stirred himself, pushed back lazily to lean on his elbow.

What are you

doing?

Singing. Sort of.

He grinned, studying her.

I like your looks, sugar.

I'm getting used to yours.

She traced the cleft in his chin with a fingertip. Her lashes lowered.

It was all right, wasn't it?

What?

He waited, wisely holding back a chuckle until she looked at him again.

Ob, that. Sure, it was okay for a start.

Sbe opened her mouth, closed it again with a little humming sound that wasn't at all musical.

You could be a little more... flattering.

You could be a little less stupid.

He kissed her frowning mouth.

Making love isn't

a quiz, Meg. You don't get graded.

What I meant was... Never mind.

What you meant was...

He hauled her over until she was splayed on top of him.

On a scale of one to ten...

Cut it out, Nathaniel.

She laid her cheek on his chest.

I hate it when you make me

feel ridiculous.

I don't.

Possessively he ran a hand down her back.

I love to make you feel

ridiculous. I love to make you feel.

He nearly followed that up with a very simple I love you.

But she wouldn't have

accepted it. He'd barely done so himself.

You did.

She kept her head over his heart.

You made me feel things I never have

before. I was afraid.

Trouble clouded his eyes.

I don't want you to be afraid of me.

I was afraid of me,

she corrected.

Of us. Of letting this happen. I'm glad it did.

It was easier than she'd imagined to shift, to smile, to press her mouth to his. For a moment, she thought he tensed, but she dismissed that as foolish and kissed him again.

His system snapped to full alert. How could he want her again, so desperately, so quickly? be wondered. How could he resist those sweet, tantalizing lips?

Keep that up,

he managed,

and it's going to happen again.

The shiver of excitement was glorious.

Okay.

She shared her anticipation in the

kiss, torturing his mouth, teasing his tongue. Amazed that there could be more, she gave a low sound of delight when he rolled, shoving her beneath him and crushing her mouth.

For a heady moment, he let those violent needs hold sway, trapping her beneath him, devouring her lips, her skin, dragging a hand through her tousled hair until her throat was exposed to his hungry teeth and tongue.

She moaned, writhed under him. Whimpered.

Rolling away, he lay on his back, cursing himself, while his heart pounded the blood through his veins.

Confused, shivering with needs freshly aroused but unmet, Megan laid a tentative hand on his arm. He jerked away.

Don't.

The order came out harsh.

I need a minute.

Her eyes went dead.

I'm sorry. I did something wrong.

No, you didn't.

He scrubbed his hands over his face and sat up.

I'm just not

ready. Look, why don't I go down and rustle us up something to eat?

He was only inches away. It might as well have been miles, and she felt the sharp sting of rejection.

No, that's all right.

Her voice was cool and calm again.

I really

should get going. I need to pick up Kevin.

Kevin's fine.

Regardless.

She brushed at her hair, tried to smooth it. She wished desperately for something to wrap around her nakedness.

Don't pull that door shut on me now.

He battled back fury, and a much more dangerous passion.

I haven't shut any door. I thought that is, I assumed you wanted me to stay. Since you don't, I'll

Of course I want you to stay. Damn it, Megan.

He whirled on her, and wasn't

surprised when she jerked back.

I need a bloody minute. I could eat you alive, I want you so much.

In defense, she crossed an arm over her breasts.

I don't understand you.

Damn right you don't understand me. You'd run like hell if you did.

He fought for

control, gained a slippery hold.

We'll be fine, Meg, if you wait until I pull myself together.

What are you talking about?

Gripped by frustration, he grabbed her hand, pressed it against his, palm to palm.

I've got big hands, Megan. Got them from my father. I know the right way to use them and the wrong way.

There was a glint in his eyes, like the honed e.g. of a sword. It should have frightened her, but it only excited.

You're afraid of me,

she said quietly.

Afraid

you'll hurt me.

I won't hurt you.

He dropped his hand, left it fisted on the bed.

No, you won't.

She lifted a hand to touch his cheek. His jaw was tight, urging her fingers to stroke and soothe. There was a power here, she realized, a power she'd been unaware of possessing. She wondered what they could make between them if she set it free.

You want me.

Feeling reckless, she edged closer, until her mouth slid over his.

You want to touch me.

She lifted his fisted hand to her breast, her heart pounding like a drum as his fingers opened, cupped.

And for me to touch you.

Her hands

stroked down his chest, felt the quiver of his stomach muscles. So much strength, she thought, so ruthlessly chained. What would it be bice if those links snapped free?

She wanted to know.

Make love with me now, Nathaniel.

Eyes half-closed, she linked her arms around his neck, pressed her eager body to bis.

Show me how much you want me.

He held himself in check, concentrating on the flavor of her mouth. It would be enough, he told himself, to make her float again.

But she had learned quickly. When he sought to soothe, she enticed. Where he tried to gentle, she enraged.

With an oath, he dragged her up until they were kneeling, body-to-body. And his mouth was wild.

She answered avidly each urgent demand, each desperate moan. His hands were everywhere, hard and possessive, taking more only when she cried out for it. There was no calm water to sink in now, but a violent tempest that spun them both over the bed in a tangle of hot flesh and raging needs.

He couldn't stop, no longer gave a damn about control. She was his, and by God, he would have all of her. With something like a snarl, he clamped her hands above her head and ravished her flesh.

She arched like a bow, twisted, and still he plundered, invading that hot, wet core with probing tongue until she was sobbing his name.

And more, still more, wrestling over the bed with her hands as rough and ready as his, her mouth as bold and ravenous.

He drove himself into her, hard and deep, hissing with triumph, eyes glazed and dark. His hands locked on hers as she rose to meet him.

She would remember the speed, and the wild freedom, of their mindless mating. And she would remember the heady flavor of power as they plunged recklessly off the e.g. together.

She must have slept. When she woke, she was sprawled on her stomach across the bed. The rain had stopped and night had fallen. When her mind cleared, she became aware of dozens of small aches, and a drugged sense of satisfaction.

She thought of rolling over, but it seemed like too much trouble. Instead, she stretched out her arms, searching the tumbled bed, knowing already that she was alone.

She heard the bird squawk slyly.

You know how to whistle, don't you, Steve?

She was still chuckling when Nathaniel stepped back into the room.

What do you do, run old movies for him all day?

He's a Bogart fan. What can I tell you?

It amazed him that he felt awkward, holding a dinner tray white a naked woman lolled in his bed.

That s a pretty good

scar you've got there, sugar.

She was much too content to be embarrassed when she saw where his eyes had focused.

I earned it. That's a pretty good dragon you've got.

I was eighteen, stupid, and more than a little buzzed on beer. But I guess I earned it, too.

Suits you. What have you got there?