Chapter 18 #2
His body was pure power. The Sifter tattoos traced dark lines along his forearms. She traced the intricate patterns with her fingertips, feeling the slightly raised texture of the markings under his skin.
Scars layered over the muscle, some old and silver, some darker and newer.
She ran her hands up his stomach, feeling the muscles tighten under her touch, up his chest, over the broad planes of his shoulders. A low growl rumbled from his throat.
“You’re staring,” he said. His voice had gone rough.
“I’m appreciating.” She ran a thumb over his collarbone. “I’m a doctor. I appreciate good anatomy.”
“Is that what this is?” One corner of his mouth quirked in a smirk. “An examination?”
“Thorough,” she confirmed. Her fingers traced down his arm, over the curve of his bicep, down to the inside of his wrist where the pulse thudded hard against her fingertips. “Your heart rate is elevated.”
“I wonder why.” His hands found the hem of her shirt and he looked at her, a question.
She raised her arms. He peeled the fabric up slowly.
His knuckles brushed her ribs, her sides, the curve of her breasts, and she shivered as the air hit her bare skin and his gaze followed the path his hands had taken.
She unhooked her bra and tossed it aside.
He looked at her for a long, silent moment. His expression was stripped raw. His lips parted. His gaze moved over her slowly, and he swallowed hard, as though he’d expected her to vanish if he blinked.
“What?” she whispered.
“You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.” He said it simply, as a statement of fact. “And I have seen quite a lot.”
Heat flooded her face. She was standing half-naked in a dingy way station room with frizzy hair and no deodorant, and this male was making her feel like the most desirable female in the whole damn galaxy.
She should have said something funny. Something dry and deflecting, because that was what she did when emotions got too big.
But her throat closed up, and all she managed was to pull his mouth back to hers.
His hands slid down and took her ass in two handfuls.
He lifted her against him as if she weighed nothing and she wrapped her legs around his waist. This changed the angle and pressed her against the hard length of his cock, thick and rigid beneath his pants.
The contact sent a jolt through her that wiped out every thought she’d ever had.
He groaned against her mouth, low and rough.
He turned and lowered her onto the bed. The frame creaked in protest. They both froze for a second, and then she snorted. “If this bed breaks—”
“It won’t break.” He braced himself above her, one hand beside her head, the other sliding down her side. His palm was huge and possessive against her bare skin. “I’ll be careful.”
“Be careful with the bed or with me?”
His gaze held hers. “Both.”
He kissed her throat. Slow and deliberate, his lips traced the line of her neck while his hand traced the curve of her waist, her hip, the dip of her stomach. His fingers were so curious. Every touch was a gentle exploration.
His gaze dropped and his breath left him in a rush.
His mouth followed, kissing the swell of her breast, his tongue circling one nipple and drawing it into his mouth.
She arched into him and the sound she made was embarrassingly loud in the small room.
He responded by doing it again, slower, working her nipple with his tongue, sucking gently, and then moving to the other, giving it the same thorough attention. Her fingers dug into his shoulders.
“Jarran.” His name came out broken.
His hand slid lower. Down her stomach, over the waistband of her pants.
He paused, his fingers resting there, and looked at her.
She lifted her hips. He pulled the fabric down and she kicked it off, and then his hand was between her thighs, his fingers sliding through the slick heat of her, and she gasped.
He watched her face while he touched her.
Reading her as his fingers found her clit and stroked in a firm, steady rhythm.
Her hips bucked. He learned what she responded to and stayed there.
His dark green gaze never left her face.
She gripped his forearm and felt the tendons shift under her fingers as he worked her.
The orgasm built slowly and then all at once.
His fingers slid inside her, two of them, thick and long, curling upward while his thumb kept steady pressure on her clit, and her body coiled tight.
He was relentless and patient and completely focused on her.
It was that combination that undid her. She came with a sharp cry, her back arching off the mattress, her fingers digging into his arm.
He held her there, riding the wave with her, his hand slowing moving but not stopping as the aftershocks rolled through her and left her shaking.
“Fuck,” she breathed. Her voice sounded wrecked.
He kissed just below her ear. “Good?”
“Amazing.” She reached for his pants. “Take these off.”
He stripped them off and she let herself look.
She’d felt him through clothes, but this was the first time she’d seen him fully naked.
His cock was thick and hard and proportional to the rest of him, which was to say, a lot.
The dark skin flushed deeper at the head.
She wrapped her hand around his shaft and felt his whole body shudder.
She stroked him slowly, learning the weight and heat of him, feeling the pulse thudding under her fingers.
His head dropped forward. His breathing turned ragged.
His tail, that thick, ridged appendage that she’d gotten used to seeing, curled around her thigh, gripping firmly, the smooth underside warm against her skin.
She tightened her hand on his cock and he made a sound that vibrated through his chest.
“Evie.” Her name in his mouth, rough and strained. “I need to be inside you.”