She slipped his sweater up and away, wanting skin to skin now, craving heart to heart. Used hands and mouth to saturate herself with him, to indulge herself, to take what was only hers.
When he pressed her back, she flowed with it. When he gripped her hands, she linked her fingers with his and held on. Held on as with mouth alone he turned her body into fire. One quick gasp escaped her, a gasp that shuddered into a moan as he churned her system into glorious chaos. Feasting on her breasts—his teeth adding a tiny, exquisite pain—he made her tremble.
He wanted her to quake, wanted to feel her quake and break beneath him. He needed to drive her into helplessness before her power whipped back and conquered him. She would give, he knew, he knew, as his mouth played over that lean torso, she would cry out in surrender and yield all.
So her hips pumped up, body arched, breath sobbed, as his tongue slid over her, into her.
Hot, impossible pleasure broke over her, swamped her. Helpless, yes. Helplessly she rode the torrent to its dizzying peak, trapped there in a kind of glorious madness before tumbling down, weak and dazed.
He exploited, he plundered, and she, still wrecked, could only writhe under the assault. The next orgasm ripped through her, velvet claws. And still.
And still.
She tried to say his name as her mind whimpered: too much. It’s too much.
But when the word slipped from her, the word was “More.”
So he used his hands on her, and gave her more.
Half-crazed now, he moved up her body, his only clear thought to take, to have.
“Wait.” Her heavy eyes met his. “Wait.”
“Eve.” He pressed his lips to her throat, prepared to beg if he must.
She gathered what little strength and sanity she had left, rolled. Simply laying her head on his chest while she found her breath.
“Eve.” Fighting the animal clawing inside him, he gripped her hips. “I need you.”
“I know.” She rose up, looking into his eyes as she straddled him. “I know.” Letting out a long sigh as she took him in. “I know.” Pressing one of his hands to her heart, she began to move. “I know.”
So her power whipped back, built, built. She surrounded him, accepted him. Conquered him.
When she melted, heated honey, against him, they lay together, tangled, dazed, in the center of the ballroom.
Fleetingly, he wondered if he’d ever not think of this when they had the room full of people, food, lights, and music. He also wondered how he’d find the energy to carry her to their actual bed if—as he thought she might—she fell asleep on top of him.
Then she stirred, let out a long, low sound of satisfaction.
“Well, that’s another checked off the list.”
Adoring her, he laughed. “You have a list?”
“It’s just a mental list, for now. How many rooms do you figure we have yet to hit?”
Adore her, hell. He bloody well worshipped her. “I’ll have to do a count.”
“Do that.” She pushed up enough to look down at him. “Because we have to hit them all. Big house, so it’ll take awhile. But we have to hit them all, even if we hit the last one when we’re old and creaky.”
He skimmed a finger down her chin. “We might save one for when we are. As a kind of incentive and reward.”
“That’s a good idea. I like it. I think I can get up now, especially since I don’t have to worry about the clothes I left scattered around out there because, hey, Summerset-free.”
She rolled off. “I’ve got to get my stuff, though. Badge, ’link, like that.”
“You get that, I’ll get what’s in here—including your weapon.”
“Deal.” Eyes still he