“Sorry.” He tugged on his hand, trying again to get away. “I—”
She growled, low, vicious, and his skin rippled. She let go of his hand, then reached forward with blurring speed to tangle her fingers in his hair. He had no choice but to come where she led, or lose big chunks from his scalp.
She pulled him back where he’d been, hip-to-hip, chest-to-chest, holding him still inches from her face; then she leaned her forehead against his, her silvery green eyes so close, the sheen of the tear tracks nearly blinding him.
“When you touch me,” she whispered, “I forget. I need, Julian”—her fingers clenched on his name, drawing him ever closer, giving him just a hint of pleasurable pain—“to forget.”
Had she ever called him Julian? He couldn’t recall, but considering the way his name sounded in that voice—part woman, part wolf—the way it made him harden and pulse, he didn’t think so.
Yet still he hesitated. The first time had been a dream, or so they’d thought, easily passed off as a mistake. This would be a choice, and there would be no denying it.
For either one of them.
She closed her eyes, perhaps to get herself under control, or let him do the same, and as she did a single, silver droplet fell.
Time slowed. Julian could see the tear plummeting, could hear the whoosh of it through the air; he caught the scent of the sea, could almost taste again the flavorful brine.
The tear splashed against his chest, and he hissed in a breath. How could it be so cold?
The sound caused Alex’s eyes to flare open, and they traced the track of the tear across his nipple, then she leaned forward and did the same with her tongue.
How could he have been so wrong? Choice had nothing to do with it.
She suckled him hard and he cursed—Norwegian. English. A little Inuit thrown in—but when she would have lifted her head, he cupped his hand around her neck and pulled her back.
Her lips curved against his skin; then her tongue curled around his nipple, laving, tickling before her teeth grazed the flat disk until he pearled as hard as she had.
She slid downward, mouth busy on his ribs, his belly, his—
“Whoa!” He tried to lift her—if she got busy there, this would be over before it began—but she grabbed his penis in her ice-cold hand and he jerked. Maybe he could last a while longer.
Her breath was warm, her mouth even warmer. It had been so damn long. He’d had sex, sure, but this to him had always been the height of intimacy. You had to trust someone to put your “jewels” in a place where they kept all those teeth.
Julian stiffened. He had a lot of feelings about Alex, but trust wasn’t one of them.
Struggling for control, at first Julian didn’t realize that Alex had gone to her knees. He looked down just as she leaned forward and licked him, quick as a cat, along his tip.
He cursed, reaching for her, but she struck away his hands, then with agonizing slowness she rose.
Her breath drifted over his belly, and the muscles beneath the skin fluttered. Moist heat curled across his chest, his neck and mouth. She lifted her gaze to his, tilting her chin just enough so their lips brushed.
“What kind of man are you?” she asked.
“Not a man,” he said, and pushed her once more against the wall.
He could only take so much and he’d already taken it. Hell, he’d refused a blow job. He deserved a fucking medal. Instead, he’d take this.
He cupped her butt
ocks, sliding his fingers across the soft, virgin skin where thighs became ass. His biceps flexed to lift her, but she already had her arms around his neck, using the house to brace herself so she could hook her knees over his hips, cross her ankles at the small of his back, and pull him home.
He thrust, sliding within, relishing her heat—that soft, tight, moist heat. He’d meant to finish quick—he didn’t have much finesse left—but instead, the instant she surrounded him, he stilled, then lowered his forehead to hers.
She wanted to forget; he could understand that. Some nights he would have given the soul she didn’t think he had for just an hour’s sweet peace.
“Barlow,” she muttered, and wriggled, trying to arch but he had her pinned too tightly.
“Don’t move,” he managed. If she moved right now, if he did, this would be over far too soon; then they would both remember all that they wished to forget. He wanted to avoid that for as long as he could.