Fire and Ice (Ice 5)

She reached up her hand and touched his face. His skin was smooth, warm, and the new, shorter hair was in his eyes. She pushed it away. “Safety is overrated,” she said. And she leaned up and kissed him.

For a moment he didn’t move, and his mouth was hard, stubborn beneath hers. Then something seemed to break inside him, and he pulled her into his arms, his mouth open, devouring hers with a hunger that was both startling and just right. It didn’t matter that her body ached from the accident—she melted against his hard strength and warmth and wanted to sink into his bones, his skin, disappear inside him.

She pulled him down onto the mattress, the mattress where she’d daydreamed about her perfect lover. She pulled her demon prince down with her, pushing at his clothes, reaching for his zipper with fevered hands, and he was yanking her pants off, throwing them across the room. He pushed her trembling hands away and released himself, fully erect, and she wanted to touch him, to put her mouth on him.

“If we’re stupid enough to do this, we’re going to do it fast,” he muttered, pulling her legs apart.

“But I want—” He pushed inside her, one hard, deep thrust that filled her, so powerful that she was shaken, hot, and the first orgasm hit her.

He withdrew, just enough, his hands cradling her head, his luscious mouth skimming over hers. “You want what? This?” He thrust all the way in again, hard enough that she almost bounced off the mattress, hard enough that another small climax washed over her body.

“I want—” Another thrust cut her words off once more, as prickly waves of sheer, gorgeous lust took over. “I want I want I want…”

He was moving fast, his narrow, hard hips driving like a piston, and she wrapped her legs around him, pulling him in deeper still, twining her arms around him, kissing him, her mouth open, her legs open, her heart open. She wanted all of him inside her, every way he could take her. She wanted to lock him tight in her body and never let him go. She wanted to suck his cock and take him up the ass and anything she could possibly think of, and then do it all over again.

He was hot, sweaty, and so was she, their bodies slapping together in the stillness, and she could feel the final explosion building, and she knew she was going to scream, that nothing could stop her, she was going to shatter and cry out….

He’d braced himself with his hands on the mattress as he drove into her, and she grabbed one hand, slapping it over her mouth, over her lips, as the last barrier shattered, and she was gone, dissolved in a white-hot flash of pure response, and she could feel him jerk inside her, spilling into her, and she wanted more.

And then there was nothing left. She collapsed on the mattress, unable to catch her breath, letting the last remnants of orgasm tease her body, and she closed her eyes. Every bone in her body had melted, and when he pulled away from her, she couldn’t even summon the energy to pull him back. She just lay there, sprawled on the mattress, her shirt still on, in a state of such perfect bliss that it ought to be illegal.

The perfect bliss was shattered when she was hit in the face with her discarded pants. “Get dressed, Ji-chan,” Reno said. “We could have gotten ourselves killed.”

She opened her eyes. She didn’t want to, she didn’t want to move. She wanted him to come back. But the cold Reno was back, and she sat up, reluctantly doing what he’d told her to do.

His back was to her, and he was flexing his hand, wrapping something around it. She managed to get to her feet, though there was no question her legs were shaky, and moved over to him. “What’s wrong with your hand?”

He cocked an eyebrow, and a trace of Reno’s old smirk crossed his face. “Never put your hand in the way of a bitch in heat.”

“No, you throw cold water on her,” she said, feeling as if she’d been slapped. She took a step back from him, the color flooding her face, when he caught her and pulled her back, up against his body, ignoring her indignant struggles, wrapping his arms tight around her. “I like you in heat,” he said softly. “And you can bite me anywhere you want.”

She wasn’t appeased. “I think I’d be happier punching you.”

“You can try,” he said, his voice light. “You aren’t going to stay here and let me see what’s going on, are you?” He sounded resigned.

“No.”

“Then at least stay back. I didn’t bring you this far to lose you now.”

The moment his grip loosened she pulled herself out of his arms. “I’m not yours to lose,” she snapped.

“Aren’t you? We’ll see about that.” And he unlocked the door, pushing it open into the smoke-filled air.

“The fires must be spreading,” she said, coughing. “The air wasn’t this bad before.”

“Maybe someone’s helping.”

If anyone was left inside the main house, he was probably dead—there were no new lights to spear through the gathering darkness. She headed for the kitchen door, knowing Reno was behind her, knowing he was ready to throw her to the ground and out of the way of danger at a moment’s notice, but she refused to think about it. The kitchen door had locked automatically when she ran out, but she knew the code by heart and punched it in. The lock clicked open, and she stepped back. “On second thought, I’ll let you deal with it,” she said.

“On second thought, I’m not letting go of you.” He caught her arm, and his hands hurt. He pulled her into the house, turning on the kitchen lights. The yakuza hit man was where she’d left him, rivers of blood pooling beneath him. His throat cut.

“I thought you said you hit him,” Reno said, not loosening his grip.

She froze, staring down into the man’s sightless eyes. “I didn’t use a knife,” she said in a low voice.

“Someone did.” He leaned down to take a closer look, and since he wasn’t letting go of her she was forced closer, as well. The smell of blood and d

eath was overpowering, the smell that had haunted her for what seemed like forever.