Darkest Before Dawn (Page 75)

He hadn’t intended it to be arousing. He’d wanted to scare the holy hell out of her so she’d rethink this insanity. But the selfish part derived great satisfaction that she’d responded as she had, her lips parted in silent invitation.

God, the things he’d like to do to her mouth.

He put a tight clamp on the coarse, base ideas running circles in his brain and making his dick so hard it felt as though the skin would simply split under the pressure.

She deserved a gentle initiation. Not down-and-dirty fucking. He closed his eyes, swearing at his choice of thoughts. The idea of other men holding her down, raping her like mindless animals made him sick. His erection lost its rigidity and bleakness entered his soul.

“Tonight,” she reminded him, as though she had reached right into his mind and plucked out his thoughts.

She rotated and rose up over him, leaning into his chest, bumping her nose into his in a charmingly clumsy manner. But damn it, she had no business putting any strain on her stitches or further aggravating her injuries.

As carefully as he could and making sure she didn’t take his gesture as rejection, he eased her over onto her back and arranged her to his liking, inspecting every angle to ensure that he would cause no hurt to her wounds.

“You will lie back just as I have you,” he said in a husky voice he didn’t recognize. “You will not hurt yourself, tear your stitches or otherwise worsen your injuries.”

She swallowed visibly, her eyes glowing brightly with excitement, her lips full, cheeks flushed with desire. She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen in his dull, colorless existence.

“I will be as gentle, tender and patient as a man ever was in making love to a woman,” he vowed just as he lowered his body over hers, fitting his mouth to hers.

He was careful to keep his weight from her slender body, not wanting to hurt her in any way. He couldn’t offer her anything. He couldn’t grant what they both desired most. But he could give her this one gift she asked for. He would make love to her and show her what it was like between people who . . . cared. The word whispered insidiously inside his mind, forcing him to acknowledge that on some level he did care deeply for Honor Cambridge.

He admired the hell out of her. Respected her. Thought her a woman without equal. He couldn’t conceive of what he could have done right in his life to have this one night with her. Right before he delivered her into the hands of evil.

He took his time, studying and learning her body inch by delicious inch. He kissed every mark, every bruise or wound and then lapped gently at it to soothe any sting he might have caused.

Her hands cradled his head when she could reach it as he continued his thorough exploration of her body. When she was quivering, not in pain, but nearly shuddering with desire, he became more aggressive and demanding, but still mindful of her fragility.

He sucked and nipped at her neck, quickly figuring out that it, like her breasts, was one of the most sensitive regions on her body. Or at least that he’d discovered so far. Her ultimate female nectar, he was waiting to taste, drawing out the anticipation—and hers.

Several times he got close, skimming his tongue and lips and then grazing his teeth along her belly and just above her soft mound. She moaned low in her throat and then made the sound of a frustrated woman nearing the end of her limits.

He smiled and lifted his fierce gaze, savage satisfaction gripping him when she returned every ounce of his ferocity in her own gaze.

And then finally, he gave in to what they both wanted so badly.

Using a feather-light touch, he brushed the tips of his fingers over the plush lips of her sex and then carefully parted them, inhaling as he scented her need and saw her delicate pink flesh glistening with the evidence of her intense arousal.

Still, he cautioned himself to go slowly. Not to overwhelm her. She was small. A fighter, yes, a scrapper who didn’t know how to quit. But she was delicately built. His hands easily spanned her narrow rib cage, easily trapped her hips in his firm grasp, holding her bottom captive against the bed.

He lowered his head and she whimpered low in her throat and then gasped sharply when he tongued her from her small opening to her taut clitoris that puckered and strained upward to receive the tiny flicks of his tongue.

He rolled the bud around with his tongue, teasing and tormenting, deriving every bit as much pleasure from the act as she was.

She was wetter, much more damp, but he still wanted to make sure she was ready—able—to take him. He was a large man in all areas. Strong, muscled. Lean. An ultimate weapon for destruction. And seduction.

Yes, he’d seduced women to get information. He’d never hurt even one of them, and he’d made damn sure he made the sex good for them. But for him? He had simply turned it off and performed by rote, never allowing himself to feel this kind of need—obsession.

He drank of her sweetness. So much innocence. He’d never had such innocence. He tongued and sipped until he had to hold her down to keep her from hurting herself.

When he was certain she was hot and wet enough to take him, he shifted his powerful body over hers and gazed down into her half-lidded eyes.

“Are you sure, Honor?” he asked even as his dick rimmed her slick entrance.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. Please, Hancock. Do this for me.”

He wanted to thrust in her so deep and hard that there was no separation between them. That for these precious few seconds, they were one person. One heart and soul.

But he mustered every ounce of control he possessed and eased carefully forward, watching her eyes widen as she stretched around him. And then a grimace touched those eyes and he halted.