Jacques nodded in a slight salute to Gregori and reached out to Shea. The moment his fingers closed around hers, the electricity arced sharply and cleanly between them. He pulled her out of the chamber and into the tunnel. To her horror, instead of going back up toward the forest, Jacques drew her down toward the very bowels of the earth. The tunnel was wide enough that they could walk together, but she didn’t move fast enough to suit him. With every step he took, Jacques’ body became tighter and more painful. His breath was corning in hoarse gasps. He swung her into his arms and raced down the tunnel’s twists and turns.
“What are you doing, Jacques?” Half laughing, half concerned, Shea held on tightly, her slender arms around his neck.
“I am getting us to a place where we can be alone.” He was decisive about it. He had wanted her for hours, for days, for a lifetime. He had to have her this minute.
Shea buried her face in the hollow of his shoulder, her body responding to the urgency in his voice, to his labored breathing and rapid heartbeat. Her mouth touched his pulse, her breath warming his skin. She felt him shiver with awareness and gently probed the spot with the tip of her tongue. “Mmm, you taste good.”
“Damn it, Shea, I swear if you keep that up, we will not make it to the springs.”
“I never heard of any springs,” she murmured absently, stroking the beating pulse again, her teeth playfully nipping. Her mouth wandered farther up his neck to his ear.
“Hot springs. It is only a little way farther,” he groaned, but he leaned his head toward her attentions.
Her hand slipped down the front of his shirt, played with his buttons, slowly sliding them open so that her palm could rest on his hot skin. “I think you’re hot enough, Jacques,” she whispered wickedly into his ear, caressing his earlobe with her tongue. “I know I am.”
He stopped, leaned against the curved wall, and allowed her feet to touch the ground. There were no words to describe the hunger, the urgency of his body, or the chaos of his mind. He bent over her, forcing her slender body backward as he took control of her mouth. His hand spanned her throat, tipping up her chin for better access.
Shea experienced a curious shifting of the earth beneath her feet. Colors whirled in her head, and flames licked at her body. She could hardly bear the feel of clothes against her sensitive skin. Her breasts swelled and ached, her nipples pushing into the material covering them.
Jacques was on fire, his jeans so tight, he could no longer breathe. He tore at them, freed his body from the restrictive fabric and ripped at the cotton covering hers. “I have to have you right now, Shea,” he said hoarsely. His hands were everywhere, cupping her firm breasts, his thumbs caressing, arousing, bringing her nipples to peaks of temptation.
His teeth scraped the vulnerable line of her throat, followed the path lower to the creamy swell of her breasts. At Shea’s quick indrawn breath he feasted, hungry and aching with need. His hands bit into her small waist as he held her still. Her cotton top gaped open, giving him glimpses of her narrow ribcage. She was making little wild, husky noises that only added to his frenzy.
“You’re out of control, wild man,” Shea whispered softly, her hands urging him on. They were a living flame, heating the very air around them.
Jacques yanked at her jeans, dragged her to the ground, his body covering hers as he did so. “You think?” His hands pinned her hips, lifted her so that he could drive forward, burying himself deep. The pleasure was somewhere between exquisite and pain, relief and pure joy. She was so hot and ready, clenching at him, surrounding him with fiery velvet. He felt her mouth against the heavy muscles of his chest, her breath, her soft little murmur of wonder. His body tightened in response, moved faster and deeper. White-hot heat spread, piercing pain that moved to sweet ecstasy as her teeth found his pulse. He flowed into her; sensual and spicy, his body taking possession of hers in the dominant way of his kind. Wild. Hungry. Urgent.