Phantom Game (GhostWalkers 18)

His thumb slid over her lips. Velvet soft. Those generous lips. Did he dare kiss her? If he did, would he ever be free of her? He doubted he could be free of her now, even though he hadn’t kissed her. Already they were tied together in some inexplicable way he didn’t understand, and he didn’t care how it had happened.

“Self-preservation,” she whispered, her lips moving against his thumb.

The movement felt erotic. “Self-preservation seems overrated at the moment,” he replied. “Don’t you want to know what it would feel like?” He deliberately tempted her, his thumb stroking caresses along that sinful curve of her bottom lip. “Just once?”

Her tongue touched the pad of his thumb, a sexy little stroke that sent heat crashing down his spine and roiling in the pit of his stomach.

“Once wouldn’t be enough, Jonas.” Her breath turned ragged. She nuzzled his thumb.

“Babe.” He meant it as a reprimand, but it came out an entreaty. He slid his free hand into the wealth of hair she had tumbling around her shoulders. It was thick and silky and sexy as hell. He was so far gone that the feel of the silken mass against his skin added to his nearly desperate need of her. “I’m going to kiss you.”

“So stop talking about it and just do it,” she advised. “Before I chicken out.”

Jonas didn’t need a second invitation. He’d waited for her consent, but now that she’d given it, he took advantage. His fist tightened in her hair, while his other hand cupped her chin, holding her still for him. He lowered his mouth to hers.

He was gentle, his lips coaxing hers, small little kisses. Tasting her. Discovering the flavor of tuberose and jasmine. Just a hint. Egyptian blood orange perhaps. He would need to taste more to know for certain. He kissed the corners of her mouth, feeling her texture. That satin. The perfection of those too-generous lips. He traced the seam with his tongue and then bit down very gently on the bottom lip. She gave a little gasp and he took advantage, sliding into the heat of her mouth, claiming her.

Her mouth was pure fire. Scorching hot. He stroked his tongue along hers, persuading her gently, hanging on to control with an effort. Kissing Camellia was something he was going to have to repeat often. He realized she had been right all along about this too. He was going to need to kiss her the way he needed air to breathe. Self-preservation be damned, they were both in trouble.

Her hands had come up to grip the front of his jacket, and then she did the unthinkable, sliding them up his chest and around his neck. That was so dangerous to both of them. It wasn’t that he had allowed the kiss to get out of control. He contained the fire, not letting it run away with them, but both felt the flames licking through their veins, spreading that scorching heat and the urgent need to every cell in their bodies. It was a slow burn, but it was every bit as potent as a wildfire.

Her palms on his bare skin, right over the prominent veins in his neck, felt like two brands. He wouldn’t have been shocked to find she’d burned her initials into either side of his neck. He doubted if he would have minded. Very reluctantly, he lifted his head, his gaze moving over her face, searching for signs of denial or doubt.

Her lashes lifted and her eyes had gone pure blue, sexy. A slow smile accentuated her lips. Drew attention to the ghost of a dimple she had on her left side. He couldn’t stop from leaning down to brush his mouth over that small indentation.

“We could be in serious trouble, Jonas.” Her hands slid from his neck and dropped to hang loosely at her sides.

He straightened and forced himself to let go of her. That took discipline, far more discipline than he wanted to admit. “I think it best if we just decide we’re going to work it out, Camellia. It’s smarter. Neither of us has to chase the other one all over the mountain.”

Her eyebrow shot up. Amusement put color in her cheeks and poured more blue into her eyes. “You think I would come chasing after you if you took off on me?”

“Sure you would, now that you’ve had a taste of me.”

She burst out laughing. He could get used to her laugh. He felt the vibration of it through his feet, in his veins, through the cells in his body. He looked around at the flowers that shouldn’t have been alive there in that garden of paradise. They all reacted to her laughter. Leaves rustled, turning toward the sound, petals unfolded from closed flowers, all looking toward her. Camellia didn’t even turn her head, as if she was so used to the phenomena that she didn’t notice it.