Wild Fire (24 page)

Once back at the cabin, where they ate and hashed out every conceivable thing that could go wrong, and how to prepare for it, Isabeau found herself melting back into the shadows to watch Conner while they talked. She loved seeing the light play over his face, deepening the effect of a hard, dangerous man. He was intelligent and confident, and the sound of his voice became a drumbeat in her veins. Every breath he took expanded his chest and rippled the muscles beneath the thin material of his shirt.

Conner looked magnetic all sprawled out in his chair, lazy, as only a leopard could be. His jeans were snug, encasing his long legs as he tipped back his chair, his eyes half closed, his attention on the conversation—at least it appeared to be wholly focused there. His gaze flicked up and found her in the shadows, and her heart began to pound to that same drumming in her veins. She felt her womb clench and heated liquid dampened her panties.

One smoldering look. She remembered that so well. He rarely had to say anything—just looking at her could put her into a state of arousal. He was dangerous, sexy as hell. She couldn’t take her eyes from him. When he spoke, his voice poured into the room with the same intensity as his molten gold eyes. He mesmerized her in the way a leopard might its prey. Once his gaze found her, focused on her, she couldn’t find breath. She couldn’t think clearly.

Isabeau tried to analyze how he had such a hypnotic, disturbing effect on her. Her entire body reacted to him. Her breasts ached, felt swollen and sensitive and
needy.
Her body pulsed with that need, that terrible craving she couldn’t seem to sate. He looked intensely masculine, a sensual temptation she couldn’t resist.

His hand casually snagged the neck of a water bottle and he tipped the contents down his throat, the action tightening her body. A frisson of awareness went down her spine. She loved the way he moved, the easy strength, the sureness he exuded. Everything about him appealed to her—even his arrogant dominance. She couldn’t blame her reaction to him on her cat. This was the woman—or maybe both—who craved him.

He looked sinful with his legs stretched out in front of him and that thick, tempting bulge she was so familiar with straining his faded, worn jeans. She wanted to crawl over him and rip away the offending material to get at the hidden prize. Her mouth watered remembering the taste and texture of him, the way his hand gripped her hair and the sound of his growling moans. He had been so patient with her as she worked at learning how to pleasure him, and he’d always made her feel as if everything she did was sexy and exciting. He’d whispered instructions and she had obeyed, shivering with need, with wanting to please him. Whatever she did for him was rewarded a hundredfold. He could do things, knew things about her, she could never share with another man.

Her gaze dropped to his hands, carelessly circling the bottle, remembering the feel of his rough palms on her breasts, between her thighs, fingers sliding deep to stroke and caress and drive her insane with need. She swallowed hard as he tipped the bottle to his lips again, drawing her attention to his mouth. Hot. Sexy. So seductive she could never have resisted. His mouth had been ruthless, driving her up so fast she remembered she couldn’t catch her breath. His hands on her hips, pinning her down, holding her open for his feast, had been strong and exciting, thrilling even. When his tongue penetrated, stabbing deep, flicking, his strong teeth teasing, she’d been shocked. She’d used her heels to try to push out from under him, but he’d held her fast, throwing her into a ferocious orgasm—one she’d never forget. It had been the first time she’d screamed under the ministrations of his mouth—and she’d never stopped.

She wanted to scream again. Loud and long and feel the pleasure rising like a tidal wave. She watched with fascination as he tipped the bottle again. Under cover of the act, those golden eyes found her in the shadow. There was dark lust blatant in his eyes. He did nothing at all to hide what he wanted from her as his gaze traveled possessively over her body.

She froze, much like the prey of a leopard might, her breath caught in her lungs, her stomach muscles bunched and tightened. Under his direct stare, she could feel the damp moisture gathering between her thighs. Arousal made her shiver with need.

Around him, the men shifted uncomfortably, and Rio shot Conner one emotion-laden look. Conner stood without a word, setting the water on the table and holding out his hand to her. “We’re leaving. Be back tomorrow sometime.”

His voice was rough with the same dark lust that had taken hold of her. She wasn’t alone in her torment. She could see the impressive bulge had grown even thicker than it had been. She put her trembling hand in his. He was warm—hot even—she could feel the heat pouring off his body to envelope her. She didn’t look at the others, didn’t even care that they probably scented her arousal. Her heart was pounding and her body pulsed with liquid desire. Her breasts felt heavy, aching, her nipples tight, hard buds. Her thighs quivered and lust danced in her veins, little electrical shocks running rampant through her muscles and over her skin.

Conner snagged a large backpack and then drew her out onto the verandah. She followed him down the ladder without a word. The rain had started again, a soft drizzle that barely penetrated the canopy. The few drops that managed to land on her seemed to sizzle and turn to steam with the heat emanating from their bodies. He didn’t say anything at all, didn’t look down at her even after they were well away from the cabin and in the safety and shelter of the trees.

He didn’t have to say anything. The air thickened around them so every step became difficult. Each breath she drew into her lungs was harsh and ragged. His palm burned into the small of her back, just above her buttocks, as they moved along a narrow, overgrown path. His steps were sure in the dark, his eyes giving off the peculiar nightglow of his leopard.

She’d never been more aware of her own femininity. Her body had gone soft and pliant, pulsing with aching need, with every step, her core clenching and wet. The sound of cicadas rose and fell, the ever-present shrill adding to her raw nerve endings. In the distance, through the inky darkness, she could hear a chorus of frogs and then the call of a bird. A twig snapped. Conner never hesitated. He walked with absolute assurance, all flowing, fluid grace and rippling ropes of muscle, so that each time he brushed against her sensitive skin, her breath caught and a multitude of butterflies took wing in the vicinity of her stomach.

Without warning he turned abruptly, dropped the pack and yanked her to him. His hands gripped hard and she felt the tension running like a river, sending a thrill of anticipation down her spine. Deliberately, she licked the length of his jawline and then trailed kisses along his shadowed jaw before sucking his earlobe into her mouth and then tugging with her teeth.

His breath exploded in a harsh gasp and he drove her backward until she clung to him to keep from falling. His teeth raked down her throat and nipped her shoulder before his mouth returned to claim hers, his tongue sweeping inside. He didn’t just kiss her, he claimed her, devouring her as if she was his last meal.

“You know how fucking long it’s been without you?” His voice was a cross between a growl and an accusation. He dragged her body tight against his, pressing his heavy erection against her throbbing mound.

A low moan escaped as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “I can’t wait.”

“I should make you wait.” He trailed kisses over her face, then caught her mouth with his again, a ruthless brand that sent the fire already burning between them out of control.

Isabeau nearly sobbed as she tried to pull his shirt off. “I can’t wait, not another minute. I need you inside me.” She was past all pride with him. It had always been like this when they came together. She had no control and didn’t pretend any, not when he was grinding his heavy erection against her and her entire body cried out for his.

“You don’t leave me again, Isabeau. You understand?” His voice rough, harsh even, a sensual, hungry sound that made her knees go weak.

His hands were everywhere, tugging at her clothes, sliding against bare skin, urging her to step out of her jeans when she was barely aware of what was happening. A few raindrops managed to slip through the broad, leafy canopy and sizzle against her hot skin. The cool drops nearly burned, she was so sensitive.

His mouth was on hers again, hot and hungry, their tongues stroking caresses, dueling, while moans escaped to blend with the incessant shrill of the cicadas. Breath came in ragged gasps, and she couldn’t get close enough, sliding her hands over his bare skin, yanking at the waistband of his jeans so she could slide her hand inside the material and stroke his thick arousal.

His breath exploded from his lungs. He cupped the soft weight of her breasts and bent his head. His golden eyes burned with liquid fire as he watched her watching his mouth descend. She’d forgotten how intense the sensation of his mouth on her breast could be. She shuddered, throwing her head back, arching her back to give him better access, a soft cry escaping.

His teeth tugged at her nipple and moisture pooled hot between her thighs. She shivered with pleasure, writhing under his mouth’s assault. The way his teeth and tongue stroked over her breasts was addicting—intoxicating, so she felt almost drunk with pleasure. Streaks of fire whipped through her blood and licked at her hot core, driving her need beyond anything she’d known. She nearly sobbed, her nails digging into his hips, trying to connect their bodies.

“Say it for me, Isabeau. I want to hear you say you’ll never leave me.”

She would have promised him anything, and what he was asking was no more than she wanted with every breath she took. “Never, Conner.”

“I’m holding you to your word.”

Even the way he said it made her hotter, that was how far gone she was. He lifted her up, so that she was straddling his groin, and then he looped one thigh over his arm, forcing her completely open to him. He was enormously strong, his powerful thighs like twin columns supporting the both of them, his hands gripping her bottom. She felt the broad, flared head of his erection pressing into her entrance and she tried to push down, to claim him, but he held her just above her prize, the head lodged in her so she felt every inch of his slow, steady entrance.

Conner’s cock was thick and long and his invasion would, even with her slick welcome, stretch her tight channel impossibly. She hadn’t been with anyone else in all that time, and he knew it would be uncomfortable for her. He wanted to go carefully, make certain she experienced pleasure, not pain. His breath hissed out in a long rush, his teeth coming together as the scorching heat gripped him, consumed him, took him nearly beyond his control.

Her small, sobbing pleas only added fuel to the fire. He could feel tongues of flames licking up his legs to burn his balls and settle like a conflagration in his groin. She was searing him, velvet soft, hotter than hell, so tight she gripped him like a vise. He growled a command, incapable of speaking lucidly, but it didn’t matter. She knew what to do, he’d made certain of that. He’d never understood men who didn’t talk with their woman about the intensity of pleasure between a man and a woman. He believed in finding out everything he could about his mate, what pleased her, what turned her into a sobbing, pleading lover willing to give him the same careful consideration.

She began to move, a slow, delicious ride he felt all the way from the top of his skull to his toes. Every movement sent electrical impulses rocketing through him. He was desperate for her. In her innocence, she had no idea what she did to him. Her body fit his perfectly. Her breasts were beautiful, brushing his chest with each bucking motion of her hips. Her silken hair seared his skin. He fought to calm his racing heart and stay in control, but her body just grew hotter and tighter with each stroke.

He felt her wince as he fully seated her, piercing her cervix. He murmured softly to her, waiting for her body to grow used to accommodating his. All the while, he kept his teeth pressed tightly together, breathing through the brutal pleasure. “You good?” The words came out harsher than he intended, but she didn’t seem to mind, tossing her head and nodding emphatically.

He bent his knees and drove upward, his soft growl a dark, dangerous sound that silenced the cicadas closest to them. She sobbed out her pleasure. The angle he had, with her thigh draped over his arm, allowed him to create friction along her most sensitive spot. He bent his head to the temptation of her throat and gave a series of erotic licks, his teeth scraping back and forth, taking several hungry bites.

He pounded into her melting heat, needing her shudders, her little breathless cries. He had to find a way to hold her to him through the coming storm. He was desperate to tie her irrevocably to him. He wanted her orgasm to be the best she’d ever had, wanted her to associate all that mind-numbing ecstasy with him alone. He couldn’t ever lose her again. He wouldn’t survive it, and the coming days would test the strength of what they had together.

He was relentless, driving deeper and deeper, even when he felt her body clasp his in a viselike grip. He kept surging into her, over and over, burying himself in paradise, while lightning forked over his skin and rockets exploded in his skull. Her sheath pulsed around him and her muscles clamped down again. “Don’t, honey. Don’t move.” His voice was more of a hiss than an actual command. He was certain he was half insane with sheer pleasure.

Her body melted around his, the inferno growing impossibly hotter as he plunged again and again, until he felt every nerve ending he had center in his cock. She stiffened. Her eyes went wide. There was a hint of fear mixed with anticipation. Her eyes went opaque and she dug her nails into his shoulder.

“Conner?” Her voice was soft. Shaky.

He loved her like that, looking at him with that sultry mixture of innocent and siren. Her body rode his, hot liquid bathing him with each thrust of his body. He felt her body gathering, spiraling, the erotic tightening causing the exquisite friction to heighten.