Chapter 73

Damaged goods, his ass. All she'd needed was a little encouragement and she'd knocked every brain cell in his head out of whack. His dick pulsed behind his zipper, his heart shoved against his ribcage, and his eyeballs thunked the back of his skull.

The kiss turned brutally punishing and desperate. A battle ensued. Him. Her. Repeat.

So much for her submission, and he wasn't sorry to see it go. Each stroke of her tongue warring with his unleashed something deep inside him he hadn't known existed. Animalistic and raw. Untamed. Gone was any shred of finesse. Forget unhurried seduction. His body wailed to take her. It was all he could do to fight the urge.

Having her beneath him was unadulterated torture. The best kind. He'd gladly bear it every hour on the hour. She had him that enthralled. But he'd meant what he'd said. They weren't going to bed until she was ready. After what she'd told him at dinner, he had a sinking suspicion not only had no man taken time with her, but they'd used her to satisfy a temporary itch, discarding her afterward. That gorgeous body of hers needed to be worshiped, not cast aside after a quick screw.

Damn, though. She was into it. He hated to put a stop to their make-out session simply for the sake of following steps. More than anything, proving to her she was capable of climaxing would only render her readily able to let go when they did come together later.

Her hips moved restlessly beneath him, grinding them together through their jeans, and... Decision made. He slid his hand under her shirt to the warm skin of her belly, keeping the kiss frantic so she didn't lose momentum. Up, he drifted, until he cupped one perfect breast and her nipple beaded against his palm through her bra. She moaned into his mouth, her fingers clenching his hair.

That was the other thing. He never wore his hair down, so the erotic feel of her fingertips against his scalp, her hands buried in the strands, was as new to him as the barbaric urges she brought out in him. Fire licked his skin and need rippled down his spine.

He circled her nipple with his thumb, building her torment, then did the same with the other until that holy-shit whimper arose from her throat again. Testing her, he grazed his knuckles past her navel to the snap on her pants, teasing her skin with brushes above the waistband. Back and forth. Back and forth. She offered no resistance and he flicked the snap, slid her zipper down.

Adjusting his position slightly for better access, he moved over one of her legs, straddling it, and shoved his arm between her and the couch cushion. From behind, with his lips still clinging to her kiss, he tugged her jeans and panties over the curve of her hips and palmed her round, supple ass. She thrust, surprising him, causing his length to grind into her hip.

Hihcebe. She was going to kill him before he ever got to truly touch her. Tearing his mouth from hers, he buried his face in her neck. Which didn't help because all he could breathe was her sultry scent.

Flicking his tongue over her pulse, he cupped her heat before she could see his move coming. If she anticipated his touch, it might pull her from the moment. In time, she wouldn't think so hard or question her body when she was with him. But, for now, it was all about getting and keeping her there. Proving to her she was capable and he knew what she needed, that he could send her off the cliff. Willingly.

And...yes. She arched into him, pressed into his hand, silently demanding more. Already, she was more responsive than he'd expected, and he realized it wasn't fear or anxiety on her end holding her back. She craved pleasure, but just didn't understand how to reach for it.

He wanted to maim every guy she'd been with, starting with her ex and working his way backward. How could any man have her in his arms and not cherish her, not relish each moan or gasp? Hell, he could do this all night, whether he received his own reward or not. Just watching her was more arousing than anything.

"Nakos," she breathed, brows pinched tight and eyes shut.

"Shh." He kissed her jaw. "I've got you."

And he'd keep her. Crazy as the notion was, the recognition hit him hard and swift. Without knowing it, she was exactly what he'd been seeking all along. A connection. Trust. Passion as well as comfort. To think, she'd been right in front of his face for twenty years. He'd laugh if the irony wasn't so cruel.

Watching her closely, he parted her folds and groaned at the slickness coating his hand. He slid two fingers inside her wet heat and immediately pressed his thumb over her clit to create pressure, make it good for her.

She trembled beneath him and abruptly turned her head, burying her face under his jaw. "Oh God. I don't...you're..." She rocked her hips, thrusting his fingers deeper. "You're..."

Going to make her come so hard she saw stars, that's what he was going to do.

He'd rather see her face to gauge her reaction, but she seemed to be in her zone pressed up against him and he went with it. Curling his fingers inside her, he flicked his thumb over her swollen little nub and circled, offering alternating sensations to test what she liked.

After a brief moment, she bent her knee and bucked into his ministrations. Panting and gasps followed. Her fingers clenched in his hair, painfully good, and had his own need climbing the ladder of restraint. Her other hand latched onto his bicep, then fisted the cuff of his tee like she needed to hold onto something or she'd spiral.

Keeping rhythm, he stroked the velvet flesh gripping his fingers and worked her clit until his hand started to cramp, then kept going. She shook her head violently like she couldn't take the torment, but he learned that was merely a precursor to her reaching the edge. After he didn't know how long, she tensed against him, her body growing taut in a blink. She sucked in a breath and seemed to hold it a suspended beat.

But, mercy. Then she let go. Quivering, clinging, she cried a pain/pleasure combination against his skin and quaked. Her inner muscles contracted around his digits as she convulsed. Forever, she orgasmed, and he wished he could see her expression as she came. This was about her, though, and he'd have more opportunities soon. It was enough to know he'd given her pleasure, had brought her to release when no one else had been able. Or willing.

A moan, and she went limp, breaths soughing. "Oh my God."

He chuckled and resettled between her thighs. While she was still experiencing aftershocks, he carefully tugged her panties and jeans into place, leaving the snap undone.

Finally, she laid her head back and he looked down at her. Flushed cheeks. Swollen lips. Stubble burn on her jaw. Heavy lids and smiling mermaid eyes. His throat grew tight and his chest pinched. He swore, there wasn't anything more gorgeous than the sight of her right now. Nothing.

And he'd put that awed satisfaction on her face.

Brushing a strand of cocoa hair from her temple, he laid his head beside hers, his nose pressed to her cheek. He attempted to get a grip and couldn't. Two things dawned on him as her breathing regulated and he burrowed into her embrace. In a way, both items went hand-in-hand, and he could kick himself for not noticing sooner.

Matters of the heart were important, but people tended to put too much stock in the particular organ when, in retrospect, it was only tissue. It pumped blood and the body couldn't live without it, sure, but it had no actual bearing on love. The soul was what made a person distinctthe part that lived on after death, how one being connected to another, and what bound essence. To the Arapaho, the soul was of great significance and every living thing had one, from trees and land to animals and humans.

For years, he'd been so focused on the first aspect when he should've paid heed to the second. Olivia may have owned a good chunk of his heart, but Amy was the keeper of his soul. He'd die for Olivia if it came down to it, but that was a result of friendship and genuine affection. Amy was, and always has been, a spiritual connection. If he were to follow the old world culture, or if it was to be believed, he didn't and couldn't exist without her.

It explained the instant bond he'd felt the first time he'd seen her and what kept drawing him back. His protective instinct carried through to both women, but it hadn't been until Amy was put in danger that his world shifted. Or righted, depending on how he viewed it. They were erringly different in many ways yet, together, they created balance. Order.

He toyed with the ends of her hair, sifting the strands, and hoped he wasn't too heavy because he didn't think he could move if the house was burning down around them. And he wasn't the one who'd climaxed. She was awfully quiet, though.

"You all right, anim?