Crave (a Novel Of the Fallen Angels) by Ward Jr

Author:Ward, Jr [Ward, Jr]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Signet
Published: 2011-01-14T19:06:46+00:00

As she stared up at him all flushed and alive, the heat in his blood surged--and took them into even more dangerous territory. For fuck's sake, like he needed to get sexed up? Now, yet again, was not the time or the place.

So naturally, he asked, "What's it going to be . . . Do you want to hit me or kiss me?"

In the wake of the demand, Grier ran her tongue over her lips and Isaac tracked the movement like a predator. Yet it was clear as he stayed where he was that what happened next was up to her.

Which proved what kind of man he was in spite of the profession he'd fallen into.

On her side, she wasn't thinking anything remotely professional. She was confused and off-kilter--this was last night all over again with the reckless buzzing. But that wasn't what compelled her now.

This could be the only time she had with him. Ever. She'd spent all afternoon wondering where he was, if he was okay . . . if she would see him again. If he was still alive. He was a stranger who had somehow become very important to her. And though the timing was horrible, you couldn't schedule the opportunities you had.

Dropping her arm, she uncoiled the fist he'd made for her, and as it came down, she wished she could keep it to herself because that was a more responsible choice. Instead, she leaned into him and put her palm between his legs. On a growl low in his throat, his hips thrust forward.

He was hard and thick.

And had to hold himself up as he swayed.

"I won't stop this time," he growled.

She tightened her grip on him. "I just want to be with you. Once."

"That can be arranged."

They met in the middle in a blaze, lips crushing, arms winding around, bodies coming together. In the dim kitchen, he picked her up and took her down onto the floor between the island and counter, rolling over at the last moment so he was the bed she lay upon. As her legs settled between his, the hard ridge of his erection dug into her and his tongue entered her mouth, taking, owning. As they kissed in desperation, his body undulated beneath her, rolling and receding, the powerful contours of him achingly familiar in spite of how little time she'd spent against him.

God, she needed more of him.

In a fumbling move, she yanked up her shirt and he was right on it, pulling down the lacy cups, freeing her nipples, and then moving her up so that his lips latched onto one, sucking, pulling, licking. His hair was thick against her fingers as she held him to her, his mouth wet and hot, his hands grabbing her hips and digging in.

"Isaac . . ." The groan was strangled and then cut off altogether by a gasp as his palm swept between her legs and cupped her sex.

He rubbed her in tight circles as he flicked his tongue,

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