The Awakening (Immortals) by Nash Joy

Author:Nash, Joy [Nash, Joy]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Tags: Fiction
Publisher: AmazonEncore
Published: 2007-07-30T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWELVE

Christine gazed up into Kalen’s beautiful eyes. They were dark with need—not just sexual need, but an emptiness that seemed to reach into a deep, painful part of his soul. She was powerless to turn away from such longing. Slowly, surely, it drew her to an emotional precipice higher than any physical cliff. She held her breath, waiting for the ground to give way.

And yet, she was curiously unafraid.

It must be the magic. Hers and Kalen’s entwining, pulsing, flowing so freely between them. It was as if she’d found the mirror of her soul, the reflection that would make her whole.

His hands were hot on her skin, exerting a slight pressure on the inside of her thighs. Not a rough touch, but a force just enough to let her know that she couldn’t hide. As if she could’ve done that! She didn’t know how to hide from him, couldn’t begin to guess. For Christine, lovemaking was a complete giving. There was no halfway, no secret places for her soul.

The heat between them grew. His eyes told her his arousal was barely leashed. His hunger excited her. Her fingers curled, her nails sinking into his forearms. His eyes darkened.

Her inner muscles tightened unbearably. He moved closer, widening his stance, his legs relieving his hands of their task of keeping her thighs spread. His palms came to rest on the table on either side of her head. His powerful body blocked her vision. His scent wrapped around her. She was more turned on than she’d ever been in her life—more, even, than she’d been last night in Kalen’s bed. Then, he’d taken her fiercely, and there had been little time to explore this deep agony of wanting. Tonight…tonight he was making her burn.

“Please…”

“Please what, Christine?”

“Please,” she whispered. “Love me.”

Satisfaction, hope, blessing…she saw all three emotions flicker through Kalen’s eyes. Something darker rode with them—shame, perhaps, or regret. She didn’t have time to wonder about it; his hands were on her. The next instant brought the sound of tearing silk. Her dress fell away. Her corset came next, his fingers delving behind the small of her back, finding and ripping the laces with one jerk of his wrists. She drew a sharp breath as the garment loosened, air filling her lungs in a heady rush.

He gathered her in his arms, lifting her as he swept her clothing from the table. Deftly slid her silk chemise over her head. When he eased her back again to the table, she was clad only in her stockings and shoes, while he was still fully dressed. The vulnerability of her position contracted a spasm of lust in her belly. She heard her own voice, begging him to hurry.

He gave a swift shake of his head and left her briefly,moving to the end of the table where the remnants of their dinner lay. When he returned,the wine bottle was in his hand. He tipped it,sending a thin red stream trickling onto her breast.

The liquid was cool on her heated skin; she sucked air.

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