Mediterranean Escapes by Caitlin Crews

Author:Caitlin Crews
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Mills & Boon Special Release
Published: 2017-01-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SIX

HE WAS DYING.

Or dreaming—but Nicodemus had had this dream a hundred times before or more, and it had never, ever been this good. Never.

Mattie’s mouth was so hot, her tongue so delicate and wicked at once as she licked him and tasted him. Tracing patterns, then taking the whole of him deep inside. She moved as she knelt there before him, the culmination of a thousand fantasies and far better than any of them, rocking slightly as if she really was dancing for him, at last, and he died.

Again and again, he died, and she kept going.

Nicodemus was no fool. This kind of sudden reversal made no sense, especially not from Mattie. But he couldn’t seem to care about that.

And it would take a far better man than he was to do anything about it now.

He sunk his fingers deep in her thick hair, loosely holding on to her as she tormented him, as she worshipped him. Letting her build the fire in him higher and higher, letting her take him, letting her have him any way she pleased.

Mine, he thought with every stroke of her wicked tongue. Finally mine.

And when he fell off the side of the earth and shattered into a thousand pieces, he shouted out the glory of it in words he knew she couldn’t understand.

When he opened his eyes she was still on her knees before him, those marvelous eyes big and wide and focused only on him. Another trillion dreams shattered by a far better reality, he thought. Her lush mouth was swollen slightly, and there was that flush across her cheeks that told him she was as affected by this as he was. For a moment he only stared at her, this woman who had haunted him for so long.

This woman he still didn’t understand at all.

Then Nicodemus tucked himself away and zipped up his trousers, the fire still roaring inside him. He wanted to haul her to her feet and bend her over the counter. He wanted to lick his way into her heat again, then lose himself in it, until they were both as shattered as that glass she’d thrown.

He wanted all of her. Here, now.

But he’d waited so long—and he couldn’t trust her sudden capitulation. He reached down and slid his hand along her jaw, holding the side of her face, the soft satin of her cheek warm against his palm. Something like tenderness, but with so many lies between them.

Always the lies. Always so many damned lies.

“I think I like you kneeling, princess,” he said, not wanting to face that yet. “I may make it a daily requirement.”

She didn’t like that. He could feel it in the way she quivered, could see it in the way her pretty dark eyes narrowed. But she didn’t throw something back at him the way he could see she wanted to do. She stayed there, passive and accommodating and not at all the Mattie he knew.

Not that he was complaining. Not at the moment.

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