Calder Pride (Calder Saga 5)

“No. It’s none of your business.”

“Can’t you remember?” he taunted, forcing her to concentrate on his words rather than the slow, circular grind of his hips.

“Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I can,” she sputtered in anger, barely registering the new discomfort.

“Then what did he look like?” He nipped at her ear while his fingers toyed with a nipple, teasing it erect. “Was he tall? Short?”

“Tall.”

“What color was his hair?” he murmured, nuzzling the hollow behind her ear.

“Dark.” Cat was unaware of the moment when her hands slid over his back.

“Like mine?”

“Yes.”

“What was it like? Short? Long? Straight? Curly?” Logan persisted, determined to keep her thoughts distracted by his questions.

“Short. Short and thick.”

Heat curled through her, slicking her skin with perspiration. Cat was stunned to discover the tearing pain was gone. Its place had been taken by a greedy ache that had her hands clutching at him and her hips moving in instinctual rhythm with his.

“What color were his eyes?”

“Dark. Dark brown.” She didn’t want to talk anymore.

He lifted his head. “What color are mine?”

She looked into them, dazzled by the molten silver color of them. “Gray.”

“Say it again,” he murmured the husky demand, his eyes never leaving hers.

“Gray,” she whispered again, unable to look away, not even when his mouth covered hers and his tongue delved inside to mate with hers in hot insistence.

Her heart pounded in her ears. Sensation spiraled through her in an ever-tightening circle of need, the pressure building until she was consumed by it. The release, when it came, was glorious, draining her of everything but the small, golden aftershocks that left her trembling.

Slow to surface from them, Cat was only vaguely aware of the moment when he shifted his weight off her and rolled onto his side, drawing her along with him. He brushed the hair back from her face with his hand and pressed a kiss to her temple.

“Are you all right?” The sound of his voice drifted to her.

Cat nodded, not wanting to talk, not wanting to do anything that would dispel this warm and liquid feeling. She felt the moist heat of his lips against her skin again. Then he was untangling his arms from around her, drawing away. The mattress dipped under his weight, and she heard the whisper of his feet touching the floor. A rustle of sheets followed as he gathered the bedcovers and pulled them over her. Cat snuggled into them, eyes closing in utter contentment.

A light flicked on in the bathroom, the glow of it bright against her eyelids. She turned from it as water gushed and splashed in the sink. It was a lulling sound that soothed away the last of the tangles and deepened the feeling of languor.

Drifting in that drowsy state between sleep and wakefulness, she wasn’t aware of the exact moment of his return. He stood beside the bed, a damp towel in his hand, studying the small smile that turned up her lip corners, a smile he had put there. Possessiveness rushed through him with a potency that rocked him. Shaken by it, he hesitated a moment longer, his gaze traveling over this woman who was a total mystery to him.

Where she was concerned, he was certain about only one thing—in his arms, she had filled all the empty places in him. For a short fragment of time, he had known what completeness could be. The memory of it tightened everything inside him and made him want again.

When he slipped under the covers, she turned to him, all sleepy-eyed and beautiful. “You’re back,” she murmured, then pulled in a sharp breath of surprise when she felt the wetness of the towel touch her stomach. “What’s that?”

“A towel.” He wiped the stickiness of virginal blood and sex from between her legs. He saw the faint wince and guessed, “Sore?”

“A little.”

He gave the towel a toss in the direction of the bathroom. For the time being, he satisfied himself with tucking strands of silky black hair behind her ear. “Are you sorry?”

With her fingers, she traced the lean muscle that ran from his chest to his shoulder. “No.”