Portrait in Death by Robb J. D

Author:Robb, J. D. [Robb, J. D.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery, Romance, Crime, Suspense, Science Fiction, thriller
ISBN: 9781101191217
Goodreads: 7993198
Publisher: Penguin Group (USA)
Published: 2003-02-25T08:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13

His hands were on her, and his mouth, heating her blood, tripping her pulse before she was fully awake.

Languidly, Eve moved under him, sighing a little. Her senses were tuned to him—the scent of her mate, his taste, his shape—and the need for him rose up even as her mind flitted around the blurred edges of sleep.

Gently, lightly, fingertips stroked over soft, warm flesh. The slide of a tongue, the brush of lips, and an erotic whisper close to her ear. She was aroused, still floating on that liquid spill where pleasure was lazy and sweet.

Then he said her name. Said her name before his mouth ravished hers, before his hand slid down to cup where she was already wet, already aching.

And he shot her from dreamy drift into urgent demand.

Now there was only sensation, the pounding of blood and shocks of heat, and the tangle of limbs as they rolled to find more. She ran her hands over him, thrilling herself with the angles, the smooth skin, the hard lines of muscle.

He was starved for her. He’d wakened wanting her, just the warm comfort of her beside him in the quiet light she’d left burning against the dark. But he’d only had to touch her, to see her face, to need.

She was his constant.

Her mouth was eager, her hands quick and greedy. Their moods matched here, he knew. Give me more, and more. And take all you can.

Half-mad, he dragged her up. He could see her eyes, gleaming, focused on him as she locked her legs around him, as her hips surged to take him in—into the wet heat. She watched him still as she clamped around him, already coming as she surrounded him.

His breath snagged in his throat. His heart leaped after it.

He might have spoken, or tried, but she pulled him closer, took him deeper, and banding her arms around him used those strong, narrow hips to drive him.

Just hold on, she thought. Hold onto me this time. And she held him while the hunger consumed them both.

They slid down together, shuddering. When his head rested between her breasts, she closed her eyes again.

“Guess you’re feeling better,” she managed.

“Considerably. Thanks.” He brushed his lips gently over the side of her breast. “I suppose I deserved the tranq.”

“Goes without saying, seeing as you’ve doused me too many times to count. Point is though, you needed to sleep.” With her hand caught in his hair, she looked up through the sky window at the colorless morning sky. “You scared me, Roarke.”

“I know it.” Turning his head, he pressed his lips to her heart, then shifted so he could draw her over to him, rest her head on his shoulder. “This, all this . . . it sucker punched me. I don’t seem to have my wits about me yet.”

“I get that. But I think you broke a rule. The one about not sharing a personal crisis with your life partner.”

“Life partner.” He smiled up at the ceiling. “Is that your new, more comfortable alternative for wife?”

“Don’t try to change the subject.

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