Marked by the Moon (Nightcreature 9)

He could not heal her completely. He didn’t have it in him right now no matter how angry he became. She’d have to do that herself once darkness fell.

The wind howled, tossing icy specks of snow against his back. Though he’d much prefer to walk into the storm than stay in here, with her, he needed his strength to make his way home.

Julian gritted his teeth and lay down, pulling the quilt over them both.

Chapter 7

Alex had to be dreaming. She’d never slept with a man in her life.

Certainly she’d had sex. But that was always a quick one-hour stand; then either she would leave or he would. Alex had never trusted anyone enough to fall asleep with him.

Therefore, this had to be a dream.

But what a nice dream. She’d been so cold, in so much pain; then the pain went away, replaced by a soothing warmth that spread throughout her aching body. With the heat surrounding her, she slept better than she had since childhood.

She was safe. No one, nothing would hurt her. Not here. With him.

Warm breath, soft lips, his taste both fire and ice. Her hands fluttered over a flat stomach, tight pecs, hard biceps as callused fingertips sculpted her rib cage, the swell of her breasts, the taut, tingling peak of her nipples.

“Mmm,” she murmured, the sound vibrating against those lips, creating another kind of tingle.

She was cocooned in warmth; a chill hovered all around but it could not reach her. The dangerous, deadly world was gone. She lived in a magical place where all that existed were tantalizing sensations.

A strong, slightly scruffy leg wrapped around hers. Hands cupped her from behind and pulled her ever closer. The smooth, round head of a penis slid along her belly, and she gasped as every last inch of her flamed.

She reached for him in the darkness, and he was there. A mystery, a man, his touch making her forget…something. Everything. Until she remembered only this.

One tug on those biceps and he was above her, an instant later within her. Firm and fast, he gave; she took. Again and again and again.

“Come with me,” he growled.

“Yes,” she answered. “Yes.” The word a surrender she’d never given anyone else.

Her palms ran over his back, relishing the ripple of muscle, the sleek slide of skin. He smelled like the earth beneath the moon, the trees tipped with silver, a sky full of rain. She pressed her face into his neck, took a deep long whiff, then drew his flesh into her mouth and tasted. His flavor was salt and surf. She wanted to gobble him up, make him a part of her forever, and she knew just how.

Grasping his hips, she urged him on, until he swelled and stretched and—

“Now,” she whispered.

“What?” he answered.

Alex opened her eyes, just as Barlow opened his.

He’d been dreaming, and while he should have been disturbed that he’d been dreaming of her, the sex had been so incredible he’d ignored the warning whisper.

What could he say? He was a guy.

Most of the time.

But her teeth, while arousing, had also roused him and that one word had rumbled along his skin, tickling and taunting him. He’d half awakened, realizing he was on the verge of coming like a teenager in his bed, only to discover he wasn’t at home alone but on top of someone, penis surrounded by a slick, tight heat.

His eyes widened; so did hers. Her hands at his hips, clenched; he figured she’d shove him away, and he tensed, prepared to resist, until he remembered who she was and that he’d rather fuck a tiger than Alexandra Trevalyn.

Unfortunately, his body had other ideas.

She arched—most likely to buck him off—instead he slid in farther, the friction of skin along skin making him clench his jaw before he groaned aloud. It had been so long, and she was so damn tight. He felt like his cock was in a vise—a soft, damp, really great vise, one that could both caress him until he was mindless and squeeze him until he was dry.

Instead of shoving him away, her grip on his hips tightened. Her breath, fast and sharp, rubbed her peaked nipples against his chest in a tantalizing rhythm.