With a resolve born of desperation, he looked away. Then he strode away. Reentering the bedroom, he—

Okay. Stopping dead again. But at least this time it was for a good reason.

A fine reason. A reaaaaally fucking fine one.

“I thought I would try this one more time,” his female drawled from over in front of the fire.

She was lying exactly where he had left her, on that rug, before the hearth—but she had taken off her clothes. All of them. And she was sprawled with the kind of abandon that made a male lose track of time: Her head was back, her hair spilling out around her, her neck a graceful line from her perfect chin to her collarbones… and her breasts were caressed by the firelight, the nipples peaked and pink, the swells creamy and full.

Trez licked his lips. And kept on looking. Her stomach was a gentle drift to her hips, and the cleft of her sex was nestled in thighs he was desperate to part. Her legs were long and graceful—and given the way they churned?

If her scent wasn’t already making it clear she was ready to receive him, then the anticipation in the way they rubbed together was a big damn tip.

“You should only ever wear firelight,” he groaned as his hand went to his throbbing arousal.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

As exposed as Therese was, as naked and vulnerable as she was, she felt nothing but free. There was no embarrassment, no anxiousness, no concern that she was less than perfect or anything less than what Trez would want. And that was when she knew how deeply she trusted him.

When he started forward, she put her hand up. “Wait.”

He stopped on a dime. And to reward him, she sensuously rolled over onto her stomach. Laying her head down on her arm, she moved one of her legs up the other… then pivoted her hips, flashing her ass toward him.

“Fuck…” he breathed.

“I thought you should see the back, too.”

“Just as good as the front, let me tell you.”

“Perhaps you’d like to join me? And I’m not only talking about the horizontal.”

Trez took the hint, yanking his silk shirt out of the waistband of his pressed slacks. Then, even though it was no doubt expensive, he tore the halves apart, buttons flying free and twinkling like falling stars. Holy… crap. Yes, what was underneath totally did not disappoint. He had a hard, ribbed stomach, and a hard, heavy set of pecs, and a hard, wide shoulder span. Oh, and talk about firelight. His dark skin was smooth across the expanse of all his muscles, and the illumination moved restlessly over the ridges and hollows of his torso. He had no tattoos that she could see, but he had scarifications across his chest and abdomen—she didn’t recognize what they symbolized, but she assumed it was a Shadow tradition.

And he was a fighter. That was absolutely in his background somewhere, somehow.

Before she could get to begging, Trez’s fingers went to his belt, and deftly worked the gold H buckle loose. With a slow, sexy show, he pulled the leather strap out of the loops and tossed it aside. Then he freed the button and unzipped his zipper.

When he released his hold, the pants went down in a rush—

Commando. Very commando. Totally and completely… commando.

As Therese focused on his erection, its incredible length and girth would have been intimidating if she hadn’t known that its fit was perfect for her. In her.

Trez laughed with a guttural sound as he kicked off his loafers and stepped out of those pants. “You keep looking at me like that and I’m going to lose it right now.”

“Then lose it. I want to watch.”

“You do?”

Therese scooted back and patted the rug next to her. “Come. Here.”

His smile was volcanic, his lids lowering to half-mast as his palm gripped his shaft. With a hiss, his fangs clamped down on his lower lip, and as he walked forward, he stroked himself in a lazy way that was anything but lazy.

Lowering himself to the floor, he put his head by hers, his long legs stretching out. “Am I doing this right?” he drawled.

His hand went up and down, pausing at the head, squeezing. And as she watched him, she let her fingertips tickle her nipples.

“I think you need to do it faster.”

“Really?” He leaned in and brushed her lips with his own. “Like this?”

As he stroked himself with more speed, she felt her body melt into the faux fur beneath her. In contrast to their first coupling, this privacy—well, now that the groceries had been delivered—and all the delicious time ahead of them took the edge off her greed. They had the rest of the night.

And maybe the day, too. Although she didn’t want to think like that.

Everything was so good in this moment. She wanted to stay here forever.

“Faster,” she whispered close to his mouth.

The purr that came up his throat made her vibrate inside her own skin, and she touched his chest… his arm, which was carved with contracted muscles… his stomach, which had deep cuts under his skin. As her hand moved downward, he arched up to her touch, his hips undulating, his hand pausing.

“I want to help you,” she said.

Trez dropped the hold on his cock like the thing had burned his palm. “Take over. Do anything you want to me—”

“I will.” She smiled as she pushed herself up, her heavy breasts swinging as she repositioned herself on all fours.

Putting her hand over the one he’d removed, she returned his grip to his shaft, and worked things up and down by guiding his wrist. “That’s it. Good male.”

Trez seemed momentarily disappointed that he was back to self-propulsion, so to speak. But she knew what she was doing.

Well… actually, she’d never done anything like what was about to happen before. But with him? With her shadow lover made flesh? She was uninhibited in ways she not only had never been, but also could never have guessed she could be.

“Keep going,” she whispered, “my lover.”

When he groaned and arched again, his magnificent body so aroused, so powerful in the firelight, she planted one set of hands/feet on the far side of his thighs.

Then she leaned down, bringing her face close to the tip of his erection.

“I want you to finish…” she said in a husky voice.

As his eyes flared wide and flashed with a mysterious peridot light, she opened her mouth.

You know, just so he was clear what she wanted.

* * *

Trez lost it. Totally fucking ripped-to-the-core, out-of-his-mind, batshit lost it.

The orgasm shot out of him and went into his female, and the sight of where it ended up was so erotic, his lids slammed down. Which was exactly what he did not want. He wanted to watch, he wanted to see—

“Oh, fuck!” he shouted as his lids popped open again.

The wet, hot hold that slid onto the tip of his arousal meant one and only one thing—yes, oh, God, yes, she was swallowing him down, her lips stretching to accommodate his size, her eyes glowing as they looked up his body into his own. He could have watched her forever, but the pleasure was too great, the eroticism too much, the connection too close—and considering that there was a possibility both of his eyeballs were going to explode out of their sockets and scare the shit out of her, it was probably best that he caged his peepers.