Spirit Bound - Christine Feehan [154]
“Who do you love?”
“You, you bonehead.” Her muscles clamped down around him possessively, hot and tight and oh so perfect. “Always you.”
The last vestiges of fear and anger melted away with her declaration. His fingers gripped her buttocks tighter and he lifted her, pulled her down while lighting streaked through his body and a song sang in his blood. Everything he’d ever been, ever done, had brought him to this place, to this woman. She was everything he’d ever been looking for. There was no one before her and there would be no one after her.
He didn’t bother denying what he felt was love. It ran deep and strong and burned like fire. The emotion was so intense it was primal, shaking him to the very core of his existence. He wanted to wake up every morning to her. Go to sleep with his body wrapped tightly around hers. He wanted her to have his child—his children. He knew he wanted to live out the rest of his life with her by his side and when he died, he wanted to die in her arms.
Sensuous fire burned him from the inside out, taking him higher than he’d ever gone, pushing her limits until she could only cling to him, gasping, pleading, her soft cries growing more frantic. His body exploded like a fiery volcano, a rocket bursting through him, a total assault on his senses.
Her body clamped down on his, her muscles wrapped tight around his cock, strangling and fiery hot, dragging every last drop of his essence from his body while lightning streaked through his veins and rushed through his blood. This was what love felt like. All encompassing. A frenzied, insatiable need that left one completely wrung out, yet strangely at peace.
Judith dropped her head on his shoulder as her body continued to ripple with aftershocks, her breath coming in sobbing gasps, her eyes closed as if savoring him. He held her tight, wanting the closeness, the skin to skin contact while he stayed buried deep inside her, feeling absolute tenderness, an emotion he’d been unfamiliar with and now overwhelmed him.
“I could stay like this forever, buried deep inside you. You’re a safe haven, Judith, a place I can be real,” he whispered, trailing kissed down the side of her face to her neck.
“You are real,” she answered, her mouth against his shoulder. “At least I think you are. You’re really hurt, Thomas. You shouldn’t be holding me like this.”
“This is exactly what I should be doing. Russians are tough, angel.” He kissed the top of her head as he allowed himself to slip out of her. And he did allow it. He might not want to, but he’d been rough with her and she needed the soothing heat of her bath water.
He lowered her back into the bathtub. “Do you need me to add hot water?”
Judith tilted her head back, looking up at him with her exotic eyes, more mysterious than ever with her sleek, gleaming hair, and sensual bone structure. “I need to know what’s wrong, Thomas. If we’re going to do this . . .”
He bunched her hair in his fist. “There is no if. We’ve both made that commitment, Judith, so don’t try to put your foot out the door because you didn’t like something I did. That will happen a lot before I figure out this relationship stuff.”
Her dimple appeared, as if she was trying to suppress a smile. She couldn’t suppress the sudden surge of happiness spreading through the room. “Relationship stuff?” she repeated. “I can see I’m going to have a tremendous amount of romantic apologies. Take your shower, Thomas, and we’ll get your arm fixed. Suffice it to say, if you ever try drugging me again, I’ll hit you over the head with a frying pan.”
“You probably would.”
“Don’t doubt it for a minute.”
Stefan found himself laughing. “You’re so damn beautiful.”
“Get in the shower, Thomas,” Judith said in her firmest you’d-better-do-what-I-say voice.
He found he liked it when she bossed him around. There was something very sexy when a woman got all proprietary and dangerous with her man—and he liked being her man. He grinned at her and stepped under the rain shower head.
The hot water pushed exhaustion