Key of Light (Key 1)

“Oh, sweet Jesus.”

Her body was pink and white—delicious—with that elegant cloud of hair tumbling down to tease her breasts. Her eyes, deeply blue and suddenly full of knowledge, fixed on his as she stepped close to him again.

Her arms had wound around his neck, and her mouth was a hot, silky temptation on his. “Don’t be afraid,” she whispered. “I’ll take very good care of you.”

“I bet.” Somehow his hands had gotten lost in the sexy mass of her hair. His body was a maze of aches and needs, and reason couldn’t find the exit. “Malory, I’m no hero.”

“Who wants one?” With a laugh, she nipped at his jaw. “Let’s be bad, Flynn. Let’s be really bad.”

“Since you put it that way.” He swung her around, reversing their position so she was trapped between the door and his body. “I hope to God you remember whose idea this was, and that I tried to—”

“Shut up, and take me.”

If he was going to hell, he’d make damn sure it was worth the trip. With his hands on her hips, he jerked her up to her toes, and caught the light of triumph on her face an instant before his mouth crushed hers.

It was like holding a lit fuse, all sizzle and spark, a dangerous woman who knew her own power. Who was testing his. Her skin was already flushed and hot, and as he took his hands over her the soft sounds she made in her throat weren’t whimpers but urgings. Already desperate, he buried his face in her hair, pressed his hand between her thighs.

She erupted. A throaty cry, a bite of nails on his back, a lightning surge of hips. Then she was dragging his shirt over his head, scraping her teeth over his shoulder as her quick hands yanked at his jeans.

“In bed.” Though he had wild, erotic visions of taking her against the door, the pleasure would end too soon that way. Instead he circled her, prying off his shoes as they bumped into a corner of the wall.

She didn’t care where. She only wanted to go on feeling this wild whiplash of power, having these wonderful pulsing aches continue to dominate her body. She was spinning in some mad world of exquisite sensations, and every touch, every taste, added more.

She wanted to feel his muscles quiver, to feel the heat pumping out of his pores. And to know, deep inside, that she had caused it.

They fell on the bed, breathless and insane, and rolled, an erotic tangle of limbs on the pretty pastel covers.

She laughed when he clamped his hands on hers and yanked her arms over her head.

“Gotta slow down a little,” he managed.

She arched up to him. “Why?”

“Because I’m going to do things to you, and that takes time.”

She ran her tongue over her top lip. “Where would you like to start?”

His belly tightened to the edge of pain. He lowered his head to start with her mouth. Plump and soft, hot and wet. He drugged himself with her until they both trembled. He slid his tongue over the hollow of her throat, where her pulse hammered. Then down, slowly, until he could taste the delicate, scented breasts. And when he caught her nipple between his teeth and tugged, she began to moan.

She gave herself over to the pleasure, the sheer bliss of being savored and exploited. Her body was open to him, to that ravenous mouth, those questing hands. When he took her up, she flew free, riding the hot punch of air, tumbling down again to draw him closer.

She could see him in the light that spilled from the hallway, and her heart leaped at the intensity on his face as he watched her. Love and delight raced through her. Here was an answer, the answer to at least one question.

He was for her. And she rose up, wrapping herself around him with a kind of giddy glee.

Their mouths met again in a deep, shuddering kiss that had his heart flipping over inside his chest.

She smelled of something secret, of seduction. Those quick, catchy gasps coming from her sliced through him like tiny silver knives. He wanted to bury himself inside her until the world ended. And when her hands cruised over him, when those soft sounds of approval hummed in her throat as she explored him, he wondered if it already had.

She scraped her nails over his belly and had him quivering like a stallion. “I want you. I want you inside me. Tell me you want me.”

“I do. I want you.” He lowered his mouth to hers once more. “Malory. From the first minute.”

Her lips curved under his. “I know.” She arched her hips. “Now.”

He braced himself, then a sliver of sanity cut through the madness. “Oh, Christ. Condom. Wallet. Pants. Where are my pants?”

“Mmm. It’s okay.” She rolled over him, nipping at his shoulder as she pulled open the nightstand drawer. “Condom. Drawer. Nightstand.”