City of Light (Outcast 1)
“And I you.” It came out husky. Lord, it had been far too long since I’d been in the arms of another, let alone felt the touch of someone I actually cared about. To say my body was humming with eager anticipation was something of an understatement.
The elevator came to a halt and the doors slid open. The room beyond was vast—it ran the entire breadth of the building, in fact. Windows lined two sides, and sunlight burned in, so bright it was almost eye-watering. The space was divided into various zones by furniture, and somehow managed to feel more intimate than the sheer size of the room should have allowed.
Though the apartment’s walls were as white as anything else in this section of Central, the furnishings were a riot of color and brightness; reds, greens, purples, golds, even the occasional splash of black, filled the room and no doubt added to the feeling of intimacy and homeyness.
It was a vastly different way of living from my old bunker.
“Drink?” He released my hand and moved across to a bar that dominated one corner of the kitchen zone.
“Yes.” I stopped in the middle of the room and dropped my bag and cloak onto a nearby chair. And couldn’t help feeling very out of place and somewhat awkward in all this opulence.
He poured two glasses, then walked back and offered me one.
“To survival against the odds.” He touched his glass against mine. “To the renewal of a very old friendship.”
“To friendships and renewals,” I echoed, then took a sip. The bubbles teased my nose, and the liquid burned my throat, tart but refreshing.
For several minutes, neither of us moved. We simply drank the champagne and stared at each other. Then his gaze left mine and slid down my body, becoming a sensual and yet excruciatingly slow exploration that had pinpricks of sweat breaking out across my skin. It was all I could do not to pluck the glass from his hand and wrap my arms around his neck. To kiss him. Touch him. Make love to him.
He smiled at that moment, and I knew he’d sensed exactly what I was thinking.
“We have so much to catch up on,” he said softly.
“We do,” I agreed.
He placed a fingertip against the base of my neck, his touch light and cool. “So much to talk about.”
“Definitely.” I took another drink. It didn’t do a whole lot to ease the fire growing inside me.
His touch slid down and, one by one, he deftly undid the buttons of my dress. “And yet,” he murmured when the last button came free, “talking is the very last thing I want to do right now.”
“I’m gathering that,” I said, unable to keep the slight trace of amusement from my voice.
“What gave me away?” His touch slid back up and gently circled one nipple, then the other.
A shudder of delight ran through me. “Call it an educated guess.”
“You always were a very smart individual.” He brushed his lips across the base of my neck. “You were my teacher, my lover, and my friend, and it has been such a long time since I have experienced anything close to what we once shared.”
“I’ve never experienced it, Sal. Not in more than one hundred years.” I closed my eyes, drawing in the silky dark yet oddly corrupted scent of him, tasting in it enough familiarity to chase away fear and warm my senses.
“No other lovers?” he murmured, as his kisses trailed up my neck.
“No lovers. Just sex.”
“Me, too.”
His lips finally claimed mine. Our kiss was a long, slow exploration that was both familiar and new.
“I need you, Tig.” His breath caressed my mouth and his gaze burned deep, the force of his desire so strong it singed every part of my being. “As you are, in this form, here and now.”
“Then take me,” I said simply.
He plucked the glass from my hand and placed both on the nearby coffee table. “It will be my great pleasure.”
“And mine, I hope.”
He chuckled softly, then his lips claimed mine again, although the urgency I could feel in him was still leashed, still restrained. He slid his hand around my waist, his fingers cool as they pressed against my spine and pulled me closer. His body was warm, hard, and so very familiar. I wrapped my arms around his neck, drawing us closer still. Restraint gave way to passion, and the kiss became fiercely erotic.