The Killing Dance - Laurell K. Hamilton [42]
I tensed, and his power poured over me. I held onto his hand while the muscles and bones slid back into place. I held on with both hands while his hand re-formed under mine. My skin shuddered with the spill of power.
His lips brushed mine, and I kissed him back, almost swaying. I let go of his hand, my fingers brushed his bare chest, playing over his hardened nipples. His hands slid around my waist, fingers kneading upward, over my ribs, along my spine. He whispered into my mouth, “You’re not wearing anything under this T-shirt.”
“I know,” I said.
His hands slid under the shirt, caressing my back, pressing our bodies together. His naked body touched me, and even through my jeans, it made me shudder. I wanted to feel his naked flesh against mine so badly, I could feel it like a hunger in my skin. I slipped the T-shirt off, and he made a sound of surprise.
He stared down at my bare breasts, and he wasn’t the only one excited. He ran his hands over my breasts, and when I didn’t stop him, he dropped to his knees in front of me. He looked up at me, his brown eyes filled with a dark light.
I kissed him while he knelt in front of me, as if I’d eat him from the mouth down. The feel of him against my naked flesh was almost too much.
He broke from the kiss and ran his mouth over my breasts. It brought a surprised moan from my throat.
There was a knock at the door. We froze. A woman’s voice that I didn’t recognize said, “I didn’t come all this way to listen to you make out, Richard. I’d like to remind you that all of us have incredibly good hearing.”
“Not to mention sense of smell.” That was Jason.
“Damn,” he said softly, head buried against me.
I leaned my head over him, burying my face in his hair. “I think I’ll just climb out the window.”
He hugged me around the waist and stood, passing his hands over my breasts one last time. “I can’t tell you how long I’ve wanted to do that.”
He reached for his jeans and underpants still lying on the bed. I touched his arm, bringing his attention back to me.
“I want you, Richard. I love you. I want you to believe that.”
He stared at me, his face grew strange and solemn. “You haven’t seen me change into a wolf yet. You need to see that before we go any further.”
The thought did not excite me, and I was glad I was the girl, so it didn’t show. “You’re right, though if you’d played your cards right, we might have had sex first.”
“It wouldn’t be fair to you.”
“So you’re saying even if we’d been alone you’d have stopped and shapeshifted.”
He nodded.
“Because it wouldn’t be fair to sleep with me until I’d seen the whole package?”
“Exactly.”
“You are such a boy scout, Richard.”
“I think I just lost one of my merit badges,” he said. The look on his face brought a rush of heat up my neck.
He grinned and slipped on his pants. He wore briefs. He pulled on his jeans and was careful zipping them up. I watched him get dressed with a proprietary air. An air of anticipation.
I picked the T-shirt up from the floor and pulled it back on. Richard came up behind me, sliding his hands under the shirt, cupping a hand around each breast, kneading them. I leaned back against him. He was the one who stopped, hugging me around the waist, picking me an inch off the floor. He turned me around and gave me a quick kiss. “When you make up your mind to do something, you really make up your mind, don’t you?”
“Always,” I said.
He took in a deep breath through his nose and out through his mouth. “I’d try to make it a quick meeting, but . . .”
“Edward should be here soon, so it doesn’t matter.”
He nodded, his face falling. “I almost forgot that someone was trying to kill you.” He cupped my face in his hands and kissed me, eyes searching my face. “Be careful.”
I touched the