Spirit Song Page 10

  The more she thought about it, the more she realized she didn’t care.

  “Yes, I’m fine. Thank you.” His demeanor shifted with her simple answer, his shoulders relaxing as a look she could only describe at first blush as contentment washed over his ruggedly handsome face. The amber in his eyes warmed, and the hint of a grin teased around the corners of his firm mouth.

  “And I guess I should thank you for not disappearing again during my show, uh…?”

  She forgot how to speak when he smiled. It spoke of deep, slow kisses and long, wicked nights. Heat pooled low in her, stoking fires she had almost forgotten existed. If only just for one night, she wanted to feel it, needed to know what it meant to still be alive. Would he allow her to burn in the flames alone?

  “There is no reason to thank me for that, tesorina, and my name is Sebastian. Can I see you to your car?”

  She began to realize that sensual rumble was his normal speaking voice and the cold air around her did little to extinguish her growing desires. His thick sweater hid the truth of his body, but from the impeccable cut of the charcoal gray woolen trench down to the sharp creases down the length of his slacks, she knew he would be spectacular.

  “You don’t need to do that. I live just around the corner.” She found her feet moving on their own accord, leading him toward her home in the hopes that he took the bait. With a slight nod of his head, he fell into step at her side, his height nearly blocking out the glow from the overhead streetlights.

  “Then perhaps I shall see you safely to your door, should that gentleman decide to return and complete his task.”

  The inset doorway leading to her upstairs flat arrived just in time as her knees were in jeopardy of dumping her on her ass. His voice was like mink rubbed against her bare skin and it robbed her of her better senses.

  “Oh, I’m sure he’s just going to try again, probably tomorrow night.” She reached into her pocket to retrieve her keys, the trembling of her fingers having little to do with the biting winds. “No way around it, I’m afraid.” Turning, she offered him a weak smile. “Thank you for the escort, but I think it would be better for you if you just forgot about me.” A couple of backward snow-flurried shuffles and her heel met with a hidden patch of black ice. She barely had a chance to windmill her arms when a strong pair of hands wrapped around her waist, steadying her against his chest.

  Good God, he was huge and solid. Her chin landed square in the center on a piece of granite chest lodged between his shoulders. His powerful heart beat, strong and steady under the palms of her hands, sent electric jolts through her entire body. She curled her fingers around the thick wool.

  Could she put her wants above his life? Her rebellious body awoke and it demanded attention. She was unable to move her gaze from his face.

  His expression was caught somewhere between feral possession and heart-breaking grief.

  “If that is truly what you want.”

  She was tired of watching her life happen to her from a safe distance.

  Time to take control.

  “No.” The single syllable was no more than a whisper as it fell from her lips, emotions becoming sound as she drank in his rugged sensuality. “It isn’t what I want.” She couldn’t tear her attention away from his mouth, intent on committing every part of him into her memory.

  “Then what is it you want, Miranda?”

  His rugged voice breathed the words against her face. Her eyelids grew heavy as she stared mesmerized into those glowing amber eyes. He held her with such care and tenderness, his immense strength on pause as he waited for her reply.

  Without wasting another moment, she reached up, weaving her fingers into his thick waves and pulled him down to her, giving in to the need to feel his lips on hers. She gasped as pleasure flooded her senses. She had never wanted anyone with this kind of desperation.

  Her tongue slipped into the recesses of his mouth. Tentative. A slight breeze kissed her cheek an instant before something solid met her back. His hungry mouth never left hers while he cradled the back of her head. His answering groan paired in dark harmony with the roaming caress of his hands. Yet the press of the mammoth erection against her thigh was the only response she needed.

  And she wanted so much more.

  She wanted it all.

  Breaking the seal of their lips, she sucked in air as he nipped and licked his way to her sensitive lobe. Fueled by his passionate reaction, she gave in to her innermost desire.

  “I want to feel alive.”

  A primal growl rumbled through his chest and hardened her nipples to glasscutters faster than a frigid blast off Lake Michigan in winter.

  “Alive?”

  Her knees buckled as she imagined how good that voice would feel tantalizing her bare skin. She nodded slowly, rubbing her cheek against his unshaven jaw. Heat coursed through her veins and she pulled back to capture his hooded gaze.

  “Make love to me.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Bastian could barely breathe as she uttered the words that he longed to hear. For them to be falling from the lips of an angel made the request that much sweeter. Her sapphire blue eyes sparkled with desire, the inky black center nearly swallowing the surrounding cobalt ring. He trailed his lips feather light against her brow, inhaling the heady aroma of her deep arousal.

  “Il tuo desiderio è un ordine, tesorina.”

  He knew it would be true. Her every wish would be his life’s pursuit. Part of him still fought against the reality of that simple statement. He was not meant for one so beautiful. His hands had been stained with too much blood, and not even the lives he had saved since becoming a Guardian would balance those scales.

  Yet this angel stood before him without fear or disdain. How could he refuse her?

  Her cheeks flushed to a delightful pink as she dipped her chin, the corners of her lush lips tilting up in a shy smile. Dear God, if he didn’t let her into her home, he was going to ravish her right here in the snow. Relinquishing his hold on her, he turned the key and stepped aside, allowing her to lead the way.

  “The only Italian I know I learned from Dean Martin, but that sounded nice.”

  Clenching his teeth, he followed up the narrow stairwell, his gaze locked on the hypnotic rhythm of her swaying hips. Even though the long, heavy coat kept the truth of her shape from his eyes, he watched the swishing hem that brushed the tops of each step as they climbed their way to the single door at the end of a short hallway. Her keys jangled in her trembling hands as she reached for the silver knob.

  Uncertain if her shivers were caused by cold, apprehension, or anticipation, he closed the distance between them, lending her the warmth of his body as he covered her pale fingers with his hand. He dragged the unmistakable scent of her arousal deep into his soul, the heavy fragrance spoke of warm summer nights and sweet desires. She leaned back into him as together they turned the key. Tumblers clicked and the door swung open.

  Still he lingered in the hall, remaining just outside should she have second thoughts.

  “Miranda, it’s not too late to change your mind.” His harsh voice cut the tender moment, and he hoped he didn’t just ruin the mood. As she spun to face him, he prepared for the worst.

  Instead, she gazed up at him, her hooded eyes nearly black with passion, and she pulled his face down to meet hers, kissing him with desperate need. She backpedalled, dragging him easily across the threshold and into the waiting darkness of her home. He barely had a chance to kick the door shut as she ripped at his clothing, yanking his long coat off before moving to his sweater, all the while continuing to devour his mouth. Growling wickedly, he shrugged out of his jacket and helped her remove her coat, her arms flailing about in the attempt.

  Clothes flew in all directions, hands groping and seeking to meet more than another bulky layer of needed winter warmth. A chuckle slipped from his lips as she fumbled with his belt.

  “Easy, tesorina.” He stilled her frantic fingers, pulling her close and pressi
ng her bound breasts to his bare chest. Smiling, he opened his eyes, focusing on her kiss-swollen lips as she sucked in breath after breath. Even in the diffused glow of the neon signs outside, she was breathtaking. One more mystery remained, and he reached for the knit beanie still on her head. As he slid off the small cap, his smile gradually grew at the sight of her true hair color. He toyed with her thick, dark auburn curls, enjoying the sensation of the soft waves as they brushed against his rough fingers.

  “Not blonde,” he whispered half to himself. She raised her gaze to him. Her deep sapphire orbs, hazy with passion, shifted to include a trace of expected rejection. The combination of her flushed ivory cheeks, piercing blue eyes, and mahogany tresses was sheer perfection.

  “I’m sorry. I know that gentlemen prefer blondes.” Her seductive voice carried a tinge of sadness. Cupping her face, he placed a tender kiss on her lush lips, a light brush to tide him over.

  “You are beautiful, tesorina. Never be sorry for who you truly are.” He slid his mouth along her jaw, licking his way to her tempting lobe. “And for the record, I don’t prefer blondes.” Twirling his tongue around the slender shell of her ear, he breathed hotly against her skin. “Nor am I a gentleman.”

  Fingernails dug into his back as she pressed her body hungrily against him. He returned to her lips, the kiss fierce and possessive. She slid her hands off his shoulders to continue their earlier work on his pants.

  “You had better tell me where your bedroom is, or I swear I will take you right here on the floor.”

  Miranda never felt so empowered in her whole life. His body was chiseled from the hardest swarthy marble ever created, and he wanted her. Her eyes drank it in all in: the strong jaw, the broad shoulders. She wondered if she could wrap both hands around his biceps while she eyed at the cut of his abs that would make any washboard jealous. But her imagination was more focused on the light dusting of dark curls that trailed from his belly button to disappear beneath the frustrating leather belt holding up his slacks. A huge part of her wanted to see him in more than the veiled shadows of her darkened apartment. However, that would mean stopping to turn on a light. And that would not do.

  His husky voice sent all the wetness in her body coursing to the hot juncture of her trembling thighs. Judging from the massive erection sheltered by his pants, she wasn’t the only one needing a release. His chest was perfect, with the right amount of soft black hair to tickle her cheek without feeling like snuggling into a Brillo pad. She dragged her gaze from ogling his sculpted body to tip her head toward her room at the end of the hall. But if she were honest with herself, she didn’t care if the living room was as far as they got. His kisses were an intoxicating mix of power and passion, tempered by finely honed control. But honestly, she wanted to see those tight reins slip. His feet moved toward her nodded direction, his eyes hungry as they traveled the length of her body. Clad only in her nude bra and her faded jeans, the heat of his stare made the tiny hairs along her skin stand at attention.

  His hungry smile spoke of wicked things, and she was more than ready to engage in some needed wickedness. She let her imagination run riot during the short trip to her meager bedroom.

  The tiny bed tucked against the wall now seemed like a very bad idea. The corners of her mouth drooped as one of his thick black eyebrows arched up.

  “Well, this does pose a problem.” He shifted his gaze, licking his lips as he searched the room. “Or not.”

  He held her tight as he spun about. His tongue delved into the far corners of her mouth, twisting and dancing with hers as he navigated the small space. She clung to his strong arms to keep upright. Breaking the seal of their lips, he licked and nipped his way down her throat, moving her backward until her back pressed against the room’s one open wall. Picture frames jangled on the dresser as he continued his passionate assault, his hands roaming up and down her bare skin. The clasp at her back snapped open, and she gasped as cool air brushed her breasts. The sound soon melted into a rasped groan as his mouth laved the diamond-hard peak. He grazed his teeth along the sensitive nub with teasing relentlessness until she was begging, her words nothing more than primal sighs and directing tugs of her hands.

  She bucked, wrapping her legs around his body as he suckled first one mound then the other while his hands made short work of her pants. She gripped his thick hair, tugging those devilish lips back to hers. An impatient whine slipped from her mouth, until two fingers slipped into her dripping core.

  Her whine shifted into a strangled cry as pleasure flooded her senses. With wanton desire, she rode his hand, grinding her throbbing clit against his rough pad of his thumb. His long fingers twisted deep inside her, leading her to the crest of a mind-blowing orgasm. Her back bowed and she came, screaming out his name.

  His tongue swept across her skin as he returned to her lips. Between her heavy, panting groans filling the air, she caught the telltale rasp of metal on metal an instant before he eased his massive shaft between her quivering folds. Her eyes flared wide as he inched further into her tight channel, friction sparking an inferno that flowed through her veins.

  She asked for love, but Bastian knew nothing of love. He knew how to fuck.

  Hard, deep, and all-consuming.

  Years spent as an assassin taught him patience and control, honing his ability to analyze a target and to strike ruthlessly, without hesitation. He never heard complaints from any previous partners, their fuck-drunk blatherings easily accepted as approval.

  Never before had he cared about his performance. Never before had he cared about truly pleasing a woman. Not until now. Not until her. She responded to his every touch, her silken skin perfection in his eyes. Her kisses tasted of hidden strength and untapped magic. Traces of sadness were intermingled with the growing passion, kicking in a strange and new sympathetic warmth deep in his hardened heart.

  Someone so beautiful with the voice of an angel deserved more. His brain fought against his raging libido, struggling to make this more about her wants than his drives. But the sweet milking of her weeping sheath against his fingers was too tempting to deny. With one powerful stroke, he slid into her velvet heaven. Clamping his teeth, he finally drew enough strength to halt his rebellious body. Her slender frame trembled in his arms, the bite of her nails in his shoulders centering his mind and he shifted gears.

  She asked him to make love to her and now; he intended to make good on his word.

  He snaked his arms around her narrow back, holding her against his chest. Her rapid, stuttered breaths tickled his damp skin, and the scent of her arousal clung like sweet perfume in the air. As careful as he could muster, he eased back, withdrawing until only the bulbous head of his cock held purchase in her hot core. Her needy and disappointed sigh lifted the corner of his lips, and he brushed feather-light kisses along the column of her throat.

  “Forgive my eagerness, tesorina.” His voice rasped against her pale skin, flicking his tongue out to capture a trickle of sweat. “Love making is not something I do well.”

  To his surprise, she tightened the embrace of her legs around his waist, pulling him back inside, purring with contentment.

  “Don’t you dare apologize.” Her eyelashes batted delicately on his cheek, egging his gaze to hers. Her sapphire orbs burned, highlighting her kiss-swollen lips and her flushed skin. The loose, deep auburn curls that framed her face shimmered in the filtered moonlight from the small window above the bed. He cupped her chin, lost in the ethereal beauty of his songstress as he closed the distance between them. He swallowed her heavy sigh as he plunged again into her welcoming heat.

  He kept his strokes long and slow, listening to her keening cries as his guide. She rocked her hips as her back undulated, her diamond-hard nipples cutting delicious furrows into his chest. His forearms protected her back from the harsh texture of the wall, his hands keeping a firm hold on her shoulders and her waist. He caressed each lush curve, reaching to the spot just at the base of her spine. There, resting above her perfec
t ass were those two delicious divots. He deepened his kiss, timing his thrusts both above and below in erotic synchronicity.

  Between the tightening of her fingers latched onto his biceps and the fluttering of her silken sheath wrapping like a fist around his swollen shaft, he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold back. He growled possessively, pushing his control to the very edge as he broke the seal of their lips and pressed his forehead against hers. Her body responded unlike any other, her soft voice begging for sweet release. Heat threatened to consume him completely, and he would go into that inferno with a smile on his face.

  Shudders rippled across her body, her velvet channel spasming, and he was helpless to resist. His jaw locked down tight, the possessive growl sliding between his clenched teeth as he filled her fiery womb. His back bowed as the last of his release pulsed inside her and he cradled her tenderly against his chest. Her frantic breathing, coupled with the cool tingle of sweat dripping between them, pulled an unexpected smile across his face.

  “Feeling alive yet?”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Sunlight streamed into her bedroom and Miranda dragged her eyelids up. Squinting against the blinding brightness, she shielded her eyes and rolled off her stomach. Her body ached in memory of her past few hours, most of that time spent lost in pleasure and ecstasy. A devious smile pulled up the tired corners of her mouth as she reached out beside her, curling her toes as a giggle escaped. Her hand met with a vacant pillow, yet her heart wasn’t sad. She replayed the early morning conversation as she grabbed the robe lying across the foot of the bed.