Predatory Game (GhostWalkers #6)(55)
Author: Christine Feehan

Saber found herself smoothing her sensitized fingers over the definition of his muscles, feeding her fire, his fire. She was melting, boneless, fierce excitement and moist heat.

Jess shifted his weight, rolled her beneath him, his mouth fastened hungrily to hers, urgently feeding on her sweetness. His hand spanned her throat, feeling for her telltale pulse, the satin heat of her skin. His fingers splayed out, tracing her collarbone, fingertips caressing the soft swell of her br**sts. Jess’s mouth was merciless, demanding her shyly ardent response.

He slid his hand up the line of her hip, her narrow rib cage, pushing the thin material of her shirt up out of the way as he did so. His palm found her small, nipped waist, rested there possessively, slid around to her back, wanting to explore every inch of her flawless skin. The tips of his fingers touched a rigid raised circle and then found a second one.

Saber stiffened instantly, tore her mouth from his, hands pushing hard against the heavy muscles of his shoulders. His black gaze was riveted to her transparent face, picking up the jumble of confused emotions. A hint of desperation, fear, even revulsion. The smoldering, sultry desire was fading from her haunted eyes, but her lips retained the brand of his mouth.

Jess brought up his arms, locking her to him. “Stop struggling, Saber,” he ordered gruffly.

“Let me go. I can’t do this. I really can’t. I’m sorry, I thought I could, but…”

Saber flung herself sideways the instant she felt Jess loosen his hold. She had known he would, he was always so conscious of his strength, careful never to actually hurt her. Jess swore as she tumbled from his arms to the mat, as she scrambled to put a safe distance between them. He caught her ankle, brought her up short.

“Jesse. Let go. I have to get out of here.” She sat up, panting for breath, her face white, desperate, the plea in her voice close to terror.

Jesse’s heart turned over, every nerve in his body responding to her desperation, but he knew his hold on her was as fragile or as strong as the fingers circling her ankle.

“Settle down, baby,” he said softly, gently. “Just sit there, Saber, because I’m not letting you go. Not now, not ever. We belong and you know we do.”

“Do you really think this is going to end happily like some fairy tale?” She dashed tears from her face. “I’ve never even read a fairy tale, Jesse. Back when I first met you and you mentioned them to me while you were teasing me, I lied and said I had my favorites, but I never in my life have read one.”

“Well, I believe in fairy-tale endings,” he told her. “My parents have been together for years and they’re still very much in love. I want a family, Saber-with you.”

Her face paled visibly. “Don’t say that.”

“Don’t say what? That I love you? That I want you for my wife and the mother of my children? That I think it’s possible for us to have a life together? I have a friend who is married to a GhostWalker. She was raised in an asylum. She starts fires accidentally when the energy builds around her. She didn’t think she could have a life either, and believe me, Whitney was after her. She made it out. She can’t be around too many people, but she and her husband, Nico, have a wonderful home and a good life. We can too, if we want it bad enough. I want it bad enough. You just have to want it too.”

Her eyes clung to his, so blue they were nearly purple, tears increasing the effect. A man could drown in her eyes. Slowly, inch by inch, Jess eased himself into a sitting position. She looked so shocked he wanted to take her into his arms, but he hadn’t won-not yet. His hold on her ankle tightened fractionally. “Come here and show me what’s on your back that sent you into such a panic.”

Saber’s eyes widened, startled. She shook her head.

She slid away from him across the mat as he tugged on her leg. Saber lost her balance and sprawled forward, facedown right at his side. He threw his weight over her, pinning her beneath him.

Jess shoved the material of her blouse up ruthlessly, exposing her slender back. Everything in him froze, stopped, his heart, his lungs, his blood, even his brain. Then white hot anger shot into him, consumed him, ate him up. Even seeing the photographs couldn’t have prepared him for the sight of her scarred back.

With gentle fingers he traced the line of each round raised scar. “They put out cigarettes on you.” His voice was calm, low even, but something murderous and ugly rose up in him, something he hadn’t known existed. The walls expanded and contracted. The floor shimmied as he breathed to try to maintain control.

Saber went still beneath his hands, her muted weeping tearing at his heart. Jess bent his head, the warmth of his mouth on her skin, his tongue gently tracing each line, punctuated by a hundred kisses.

She shuddered and he remained still, his lips over one of the scars, while the tension drained out of her and he felt her h*ps move, an involuntary small shift, but enough to let him know she didn’t want him to stop. He pushed her shirt completely out of the way and swept aside her flesh-colored bra.

His hands caressed the sides of her body, beneath her arms, the soft curves of her br**sts, rib cage, and waist. His mouth continued to move over her back, a healing, soothing, somehow erotic feather-light touch that stirred her body to life despite every command her brain was trying to give to save her. His hands went lower, to her denim-clad hips, and then slid around to the front of her jeans to the zipper.

Saber caught her breath and closed her eyes against the rush of sensation, her br**sts crushed against the mat, ni**les suddenly erect and sensitive. His hands hooked in the waistband of her jeans and peeled them from her body. She lay still, face buried in the crook of her arm, tears on her face, her body alive with a sudden growing need.

She wanted him, had always wanted him, from the first moment he’d opened the door. Then it had been purely physical attraction, her body recognizing his in some primal way, but now-now-it was love for him that was so overwhelming, so consuming it had even devoured self-preservation until only he was important. Only Jess. Being with him. Loving him. Forgiving him.

He didn’t care that she carried death in her touch. His touch was loving, healing, sexy, everything she’d always wanted and never dared let herself dream about.

Jess tossed aside his clothes. This wasn’t the bedroom, it wasn’t even the thick carpet in front of the fireplace, but this was where he was going to make thorough, passionate love to Saber Wynter. His hand smoothed over the firm muscle of her bu**ocks, teeth nipped gently. He pushed against her thigh, allowing her to feel the hot heat of his thick arousal. His mouth sought her bare skin again. He took his time, wanting to explore every inch of her, wanting to know every secret hollow, every shadow. His hands shaped her legs, stroked, and caressed.