He lifted his head, his dark eyes moody and unreadable. “I can heal you completely, but you must stay very still and accept what I do.”
She nodded solemnly. He was so beautiful, in a purely masculine way. She loved the hard bones of his face, the deepness and purity of his voice, the rippling of power beneath his skin. His beautiful face now showed intense concentration. He had withdrawn into himself. Tempest found the way his hips indented fascinating. He was so physically perfect. Her hands, of their own volition, reached out to touch those smooth indentations.
The feel of his skin beneath her fingers sent flames dancing in her stomach. She explored farther, the palms of her hands sliding over his muscular buttocks. A sound escaped his throat, a soft warning growl, and his hands shackled her wrists, holding her palms against him. “Just what are you doing?”
Her large green eyes stared innocently up into his fathomless black ones. “Touching you.” Her palms pressed closer. “I like touching you.”
“I cannot possibly concentrate if you continue, Tempest.” He meant to reprimand her, but one of her hands had slipped free to explore the hard columns of his thighs. His breath caught in his throat. Her fingers felt so good on his skin, an erotic fantasy began to take over his mind. His sexual needs were far greater than hers.
He was a Carpathian male with a need as elemental as time to take his mate. He had promised himself he would remember that she was human and give her as much space as his nature would permit, but she wasn’t helping him at the moment.
His body hardened with a savage, aching rush of fire that added to the heat of the cavern and the pool. Her hand brushed against him beneath the water, slid the length of him, settled around him like a glove. He pushed against her, craving the feel of her surrounding him. “This will not help my concentration,” he managed to point out.
“Really? And I thought you were so good at blocking out all sorts of things, Darius,” she teased, exploring him more fully, more boldly.
He bent his head to the hollow of her shoulder, his teeth scraping roughly. Beneath the steaming water, his hand slid to the junction between her thighs. Tempest accommodated him, pushing against his palm. His fingers slid into her, urging her to climb with him. “I want you to need me the way I need you,” he whispered against her throat.
“How is that?” she asked through clenched teeth. In her hand he was growing even harder and thicker, velvet over iron. His fingers were driving her insane, taking her closer and closer to the edge of a cliff. The water swirled around them, fizzed and bubbled against their skin.
Darius lifted her into his arms, the hot water sluicing off her and onto him nearly unbearable in his sensitive state. “Put your legs around my waist, Tempest,” he ordered huskily, barely managing to get the words out. His body screamed for hers. She complied, and slowly he lowered her over his waiting shaft. At her hot, moist entrance, he paused, watching the expression on her face. He seemed large and intimidating to her, but her sheath was tight and velvet soft, gripping and enfolding him. The ecstasy of it tightening around him, slowly accepting his invasion, was almost more than he could bear.
The heat in the cavern made it nearly impossible for Tempest to breathe. Or maybe it was the way Darius lowered her with such excruciating slowness over him. She laid her forehead against his chest, gasping as his body invaded hers, ever deeper, the steam surrounding them like smoke from the fire their bodies were creating.
His fingers dug into her waist as she settled around him, taking him fully into her. She moved then. It was she, not he, who moved. She could feel the pleasure in his mind, in hers, so intense that it was close to pain. She rode him slowly, the beauty of the moment forever etched in her mind. The beauty of his face as she engulfed him, retreated, returned. It was erotic just to watch the pleasure she brought him. She knew precisely what to do to enhance that pleasure from his mind merged with hers. She snagged the images in his mind and made some slight adjustments, arching her back so that her breasts slid over his damp skin, letting her hair tumble over his shoulders, sensations he found unbearably sensual. Deliberately she prolonged the moment of release, moving slowly, then faster, slowly, then fast, her muscles clenching around him, reluctantly releasing him, then capturing him once more.
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