He fit his hands to the shape of her, caressing and massaging until she whimpered with need. Need to feel his lips on her breasts, his tongue stroking her nipples, his mouth suckling with the same urgency that claimed her body.
“Kieran. Please.”
He groaned and locked his hands around her waist. She felt herself lifted, felt his hot breath on her flesh an instant before he tasted her.
Nothing had prepared her for this. He pulled her into his mouth, rolled her nipple on his tongue. He arched her back across his arm, leaving her helpless and exposed to whatever he chose to take. And he took fully, granting no quarter to her vulnerability.
It was a vulnerability she had no wish to deny. His primitive male strength, his drive to claim her, only increased her excitement. Surrender to Kieran was more liberating than anger and denial had ever been. It was as if he suckled the very essence of herself, accepting back the courage she had taken from him.
Breast to chest, thigh to thigh, he kissed her again, laved her mouth and neck with long strokes of his tongue.
“The taste of you, Alexandra,” he said. “I can’t get enough.”
Alex felt for the waistband of his jeans. “There’s more, Kieran. So much more—”
The snap popped between her fingers, and Kieran went rigid as she slipped her fingers beneath. She followed the line of crisp hair that ran down from his chest, found him straining to be set free.
All at once it was reversed, and she held the power. The fundamental power of Kieran himself, hard and hot in her palm; the power of feeling his need and desire for her. The power of knowing she could make him feel what she felt.
The muscles of his torso stood out in hard relief when she stroked him, easing him from confinement. He accepted her caresses with naked pleasure, nostrils flared and lips parted. She caught his lower lip between her teeth and sucked in time to the movements of her hand.
Until he locked his fingers around her wrist and held her still.
“Not yet, Alexandra,” he gasped. He slipped free and rose, stripping out of his jeans in one smooth motion, and she was faced with the full magnificence of him. Just as she’d first seen him in a time that seemed so long ago unselfconscious in his nudity, flawless and undeniable virile.
Now she could revel in it. She reached for him again but he stepped to the side and lifted her, growling as he took her lips. He thrust with his tongue as his fierce maleness pressed into her, and all she could think of was opening for him, laying herself bare until nothing remained hidden.
Kieran swept her up into his arms and carried her the few feet to the bed. Their fingers tangled around the zipper of her jeans; somehow she got free of her clothing. And then she was naked and beneath him as he knelt over her, devouring her with his eyes. He didn’t so much as touch her with the tip of his finger, but she felt as if she had already been possessed.
Almost.
“I’ve dreamed, Alexandra,” he whispered, “of touching your body like this.” He placed his palms on either side of her face, drawing her hair out across the pillow with his fingers.
“Kieran,” she sighed.
A kiss stilled her lips. He trailed others up the side of her face until every portion of the scar had been touched. She didn’t protest, didn’t deny what he told her in the most ancient of languages.
He caressed the delicate skin of her shoulders, followed the slope of her breasts. He ran his big hands over her, exploring every contour with focused concentration. He stroked her thighs with his knuckles until she was racked with shivers. She caught her lip between her teeth as his mouth traced the dip of her waist and the flare of her hips.
It was as if he had to know every part of her body, claim it as his own to make it real. He massaged the flatness of her belly. With fascination he discovered the red thicket of curls below. He stroked down with his finger, and Alex arched against him with a soft cry.