A Spicy Excerpt
I stand, pressing in for a kiss, and begin to unbutton his shirt. “Forthright, huh?” One knowing touch as I reach down makes him suck air in through his teeth.
“I like a woman who knows what she wants.”
“Then you must really like me, because I know exactly what—and who—I want.”
My own breath is foreign to me, the spellbinding touch of his fingers on my cheek like a caress from a different world.
He’s different now, deeper and richer in his intents, and I want to believe him.
Need to believe him. My body responds before my heart, so quick to react that I pause, listening to the beat of blood pounding through me, all rushing to the surface of my skin to get closer to him.
I hold nothing back now and invite him to cast aside whatever keeps him from surrendering to the new reality we’ve woven just by being together, right here. Right now. I don’t need to hear him tell me he loves me—it’s too soon for that—but I need him to show me.
Show me.
His hands take in my skin like a man in charge, grasping what he wants, possessing it.
As I reach for his pants and unsnap them, his fingers make quick work of undoing my bra, then his heat is on me, warm palms cupping my breasts, the pleasure of being together and intimate nakedly on display in the look he gives me, open and revealing.
Trust. He trusts me, now, and joy pours through my body like liquid fire, my lips quivering from emotion, my whole being at rest and yet in eager motion.
He slips my shirt, then bra, off my shoulders and onto the floor as he steps out of his clothes.
We’re both naked and raw before one another in the blink of an eye, and we both feel it.
The shockwave of peace and hope, of arousal and yearning.
Of coming home.
“This is what you want,” he murmurs against my shoulder as he seeds it with tiny kisses, repeating my own words back.
“Yes.”
“Me, too. More than anything. This is... everything. You are everything.”
“Then let’s be everything together.”
“High standards.”
“I know you’re an overachiever.”
His deep, throaty chuckle morphs into something more sensual as he gently guides me to the bed, the full length of him covering me.
All my jokes disintegrate, replaced by a moment-by-moment awareness that makes me feel ancient, alive and immortal, regenerated kiss by kiss, stroke by stroke, lick by—
“Oh, there,” I whisper, the sound half groan, half sigh, as he makes me speechless once more.
We’re just kissing, but it’s so much more, his mouth sensual and alive, our hands roaming and remembering, searching and loving.
Each lush kiss makes me go to a level inside myself that I didn’t know I possess, and Declan’s right there with me, a fiery, passionate presence.
“You know,” he says as my hands ride up from the grooves of his hipbones, over his sharp belly, abs like inverted shells under perfect, musky skin, “this isn’t part of your evaluation.”
I laugh as he kisses the base of my throat, my fingertips memorizing him, reaching down to feel his tight ass. “How do you know? Maybe this is in my app.”
“Do you find the lovemaking aesthetically pleasing?” he asks, his hands making damn certain that I do.
“I need more time and observation to make that kind of determination,” I say in a faux-prim voice.
The teasing fades as he kisses me again, then dips his head down to tongue one tight rosebud nipple. Again? This is new. Then again, we’ve never had all the time in the world, our own hotel room, and a bed the size of my backyard.
“As you wish,” he adds, showing me exactly how to perform exemplary customer service, the rough rasp of the soft hair on his thighs and calves tickling my hips. We’re a slow, languid twinning of warmth now, and Declan stops to look at me.
Really look at me.
No modesty, no walls to hide emotion behind.
We watch each other for longer than is decent, the air telescoping to a pinpoint, his eyes a cavern of delight.
He’s inviting me to join him with this look, and I intertwine my fingers in his, shift my thigh just so to stroke him, the resulting gasp the only answer either of us needs to give.
The moonlight spilling into the room gives me all the visual access I could wish to revel in, my eyes feasting on the sharp lines of his body, how muscle dominates in all the empty spaces between bones.
Fluid and graceful, Declan moves like a man who knows himself, and I adopt the same, even as it is not in my nature.
Who says it’s not?
His kisses travel lower, attending to my breasts, then down the valley and into the fertile lands where his mouth makes me arch up in surprise and pleasure.
He takes his time, hands under me, generous with his effort, erotic with his skill.
My hands find his shoulder blades, admiring the fine, artistic lines of his muscled back, then stroke up the nape of his neck to bury in his hair.
He is at my essence, tasting all I have to offer, and he is giving in bold, breathtaking ways.
My release is so close, a glow that fills me from top to bottom, and I reach down, curl up, and pull his mouth to mine, wanting more intimacy, wanting him face-to-face. His lips are tangy and savory, his smile all mine, and I nudge him to lie down on the bed, pulling myself up onto my knees.
In full glory, oh—I can’t quite catch my breath, the handsome, powerful pull of his skin and blood next to me magnetic. I want him to belong to me. I want to be claimed.
I want.
I want.
Declan tugs gently on my knee and guides me to straddle him.
He turns to take care of practicalities, a condom on him quickly, and I am on him, not leaning forward with rounded shoulders and self-conscious posture, but riding high, sitting straight up, breasts gleaming in the shadow of the city lights and the moon’s eye.
“You are...” He finishes the sentence with a sighing sound more gratifying than any word. Eyes the color of Irish hills gaze at me with an intensity that brands me. I am his. He is mine.
I don’t need to hear the word love. Not yet.
Because I know that someday I will. The certainty inside me is so solid, so secure that as he fills me, our connection complete, I will the words to span between us without being spoken.
Appreciative, smoking eyes take me in as he pushes up, touching my core.
We are one. One flesh, one heart. I feel it beating, strong and pattering under my hand, pulse pounding as we rock to ecstasy.
This is how we find each other.
We tremor together on a frequency of our own creation, and then, with dawning awareness, find the divine within.
Read more in the series at