Wake A Sleeping Tiger (Breeds 22)
“I love you, Cullen,” she cried, finally able to give voice to the feelings that had only grown inside her over the years. “I love you so much.”
He pushed her hair back from her face, his touch incredibly gentle, his expression filled with everything she’d dreamed of, even when she’d been convinced he’d break her heart. Yet she’d still given him that heart to shatter if that was what he wanted to do with it.
“Come here, baby,” he growled, hunger filling his eyes, his expression. “Come here, my love.”
He undressed her first, then himself, the lamp’s glow washing over the sun-loved color of his flesh, emphasizing his powerful chest, hard muscular abs and lean thighs and the thick length of his cock.
As he moved over her, his kisses sent hungry flames of need licking through her senses, pleasure pulsing through her veins like adrenaline as he pushed between her thighs, one knee pressed into the cushion of the couch and the other braced on the floor.
His deep, rough growl as her knees lifted, clasping his hips, had her breath hitching in her throat. The signs of his pleasure made her feel more feminine, sexier than before. With one hand he guided the crest of his erection to the aching flesh between her thighs, tucked it against the slick opening, then began pushing inside her.
The sensual, stretching heat battered her senses as he worked the stiff shaft inside her, impaling her with a rush of brilliant sensation.
“That’s it, baby,” he groaned at her ear, his voice rough, his touch, his kiss, demanding. “So fucking sweet. God help me, I love you. Love you so much, sweet Chelsea.”
As he thrust to the hilt inside her then, she lost her breath. The sound of his vow, the heat of his body, his possession overwhelmed her.
He had all of her, but now, she held all of him. Heart and soul and everything in between.
With his lips loving hers, tongue parting them and thrusting inside, he spilled the heated spice she’d grown addicted to as the sensations built to a critical level.
She loved him. She loved this. Loved the waves of exquisite pleasure that rushed through her when he touched her, when he stole her sanity with each hard thrust inside her body.
“I dreamed of this,” he groaned, each sturdy, powerful thrust rasping and caressing tissue growing more sensitive with each drag of his cock through the snug depths.
Breathing heavy, their gasps filling the silence of the house, she cried out as those bands of sensual, erotic tension tightened, pushing her higher, closer to the edge of the maelstrom. With each thrust that storm inside her became more powerful, binding her heart ever deeper to him.
“Fuck. Yes,” he groaned at her ear when the storm overtook her.
She arched into his thrusts, feeling his hand clasp her hip, his hips moving faster, stroking flames through her senses that overtook her in the next breath.
The explosion was fiery, waves of pure ecstasy battering at her senses now. When he followed her, the barb locked him inside her. The eruption of violent sensation detonated again, quaking through every cell of her body as his release followed hers.
“I love you,” she cried out, sobbing with the pleasure, knowing nothing could ever be more perfect than this. “Oh God, Cullen, I love you.”
Shock filled him.
His father’s heart was breaking at the words he heard through the listening device he’d managed to place in Cullen’s home.
He’d actually been willing to let Chelsea live after all. The risks in killing her himself were too high, just as putting out another contract risked having the Cerves family coming after him. From all appearances and everything he heard, he was beginning to believe that if Cullen no longer thought someone wanted to kill Chelsea, his affair with her would pass. Just as the others had, those whores whose bed Cullen had shared.
Even Ranger’s certainty that she carried the mating mark was in doubt. After all, it could have just been a love bite.
As the sounds of animal lust began, he hurriedly switched off the device, Cullen’s declaration to Chelsea causing his stomach to pitch with sickening disgust.
He’d lost his daughter, the only bright spot in his life. Her loss had broken him, just as it had broken Marsha. As long as Cullen stayed away from the woman Lauren had sensed her husband was bound to, then Arthur had let things be.
Then Ranger had warned him Cullen had become obsessed when Chelsea resigned from the Agency. Pacing, snapping, having Ranger check on her every few days, Arthur had sensed what was coming.
He’d been certain that hiring that Coyote was the answer, but the bastard just had to try to use a blade rather than a bullet. Chelsea had lived and the Coyote had died.
Moving to the window, he stared out across the street at Cullen’s house. The soft glow of the living room lamp, the occasional flash of a shadow against the curtains was something he’d not seen there until Cullen had brought Chelsea to his home.
Before, the house had always been dark, not even a porch light burning. Cullen left for work before daylight and returned well after dark, and he’d never brought a woman to the house, preferring to do whatever he did with them, then return to his own bed.
And it wasn’t like that anymore.
His daughter was gone, and the man who could have saved her felt it was okay that he hadn’t.