“I need to be inside you,” he rasped thickly, his fangs filling his mouth.
Phaedra could only pant her reply. “Yes. Now.”
His jaw clenched in response. Shifting against her, he angled himself into position. Then, with his eyes locked on hers, he slowly filled her, inch by heart-stopping inch.
She couldn’t help the carnal sound that exploded from her lips.
He felt too big for her, too wild. And he showed her no mercy at all.
Raw pleasure shot through her body at the ferocity of him. Her head fell back as he moved inside her, his hard, urgent thrusts breaking something open inside her, flooding her senses with an ecstasy she had never known. All of that sensation swelled to overflowing, too intense to contain.
Micah gave her no quarter. His tempo was aggressive and unapologetic, driving her to the edge of oblivion with every relentless stroke.
She welcomed every crushing pound of his body into hers. She needed it every bit as much as he seemed to. More.
Primal, unleashed power radiated from him, all of that dangerous strength and fury as shocking as a storm. It made her ache to be consumed. To be obliterated by the savageness of his passion for her.
Her senses careened like a leaf caught in a tempest, sensation like lightning in her veins and in every fiber of her being. She had no choice but to let the pleasure pour over her.
She cried out as the need inside her exploded into a release that rocked her to her soul.
CHAPTER 14
He knew it had been a mistake to let Phaedra anywhere near him tonight, but damn if he could conjure even a shred of remorse when he was buried to the hilt in her soft body.
Her orgasm broke over her in violent waves. He’d never seen anything more beautiful than Phaedra’s face gripped in release. The fact that he had been the one to give her that pleasure made him feel like a god.
More than a god, for those prolonged moments as she trembled against him, her tiny muscles gripping his cock like a fist, he felt as if she actually had been preordained to belong to him.
Soul bonded.
Fated mates.
All his dismissive comments and denials about destiny having a hand in bringing them together tasted as dry as ashes in the back of his throat when Phaedra opened her dusky golden eyes and held his stare as he thrust inside her.
“This feels so good,” she whispered, her lids drifting closed again as an aftershock contracted around his length in tiny ripples. “I wanted it to last, but I’ve never . . . I didn’t know how good it could be.”
He grunted, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Don’t worry, I’m nowhere close to finished with you.”
He wasn’t willing to pull out of her heat either. With his unfastened patrol fatigues sagged around his hips and his arms still holding her astride him, he swung her away from the wall and carried her to the edge of the empty weapons table.
Not the most romantic place he could think of, but his need for her was too impatient to care. All he knew was the pounding desire that flared even brighter as Phaedra reached for his face and brought him down for her kiss.
His chest pressed into her softness, their clothing rasping between them with each hard thrust of his body into hers. He wanted to be naked with her. He wanted to take it slow and savor every breathless moan that spilled off her lips, every delicious tremor that shook her as she moved beneath him.
That’s what he wanted, but his desire for her refused its leash.
He took her fast and hard and deep.
She fit him perfectly, and as the wet friction of their joining ratcheted his need closer and closer to the breaking point, his pulse hammered like a war drum, blood surging through his veins. His heart pounded with a rhythm that seemed to roar a single word:Mine.
He’d felt that wild possessiveness even before this moment.
God help her, she’d belonged to him from the instant he spotted her in those scorched, barren woods.
After tonight, a part of her would always belong to him, although something reckless and untamed inside him wanted nothing less than all of her. A cowardly craving, and not only because she was leaving tomorrow for the life she’d left behind in Rome.
He wanted her in spite of the fact that she did not—and could never—be his in any true sense of the word. The Order was his calling. It was his life. He had made his choice from the time he was old enough to hold a weapon in his hand.
