“Does that hurt?” he said, as if there were any doubt why she was moaning. He trailed kisses down the curve of her neck. “Should I ... stop?”
“No!” She rubbed against his palm and fumbled behind her back with the button on his pants. “You’re trying to get me to beg, aren’t you?”
“Really, Daggett. I’m not sadistic.” He pulled her closer, the better to hold her in place so she couldn’t wriggle or unbutton. “I’d just like you to work out why, despite the adrenaline, this feels so good youcouldbe induced to beg.”
“You’re—oh God!—going to be so sorry.”
“Humor me,” he murmured, moving his thumb in little circles just north of where she was aching to be touched. “Leaps of logic are sexy.”
She moaned again—nothing sexier than a man turned on by cleverness—and rested the back of her head on his shoulder. What could it be? What?
He slid his thumb down—briefly, deliberately—and the spare moment of contact almost undid her. Hewassadistic. Surely he knew her hormones had all but overpowered higher brain functions—
“Oh!” She clutched at his arm, the one holding her up as her legs turned to jelly. “Other chemicals disrupt the adrenaline?”
“Mm, yes,” he said, pressing more kisses along her neck. “Or at least that’s my theory. Oxytocin, perhaps. It’s a sort of anti-fear hormone produced in the heat of the moment. Makes you blissful. Fascinating, isn’t it?”
“Hartgrave—”
“And now I intend to use this information to good effect,” he said.
He moved his thumb back to that spot.
Guh.
She tried again to unbutton his pants, but her hands were trembling too much. She gave in to the sensations. Magic thrummed against her skin—he had her positioned for maximum contact. His arm around her waist. His bare chest pressed against her back. His warm lips and devious fingers.
When the time came—quickly—she did indeed scream.
“Oh,” she said, slumped in his arms, gasping. “I’m going to give you a taste of your own medicine ... just as soon as I have the strength to do anything at all.”
His laugh wavered. He was breathing as unsteadily as she was, and when she turned around, the way he looked at her sent aftershocks through her body.
She shucked off the rest of her clothing and helped him out of his. The sound he made as her fingers brushed down his upper thighs was the sexiest thing she’d ever heard, and she had to stop for a moment to gather her self-control.
He pulled her into bed, taking in every newly uncovered part of her with an unblinking gaze. “May I touchyou, or does the lesson I’m about to be taught preclude that?”
She almost said yes to the first part of his question—please yes—but reconsidered. “You may not.”
He smiled at her stern instructor tone, but his voice was noticeably ragged as he replied, “Tell me what to do, then.”
“Lie back.”
He obeyed immediately—and without taking his eyes off her. She looked back just as intently, enjoying the sweep of his neck, the broad shoulders he wasn’t hiding with a slouch, the wiry legs and, between them, the evidence of his intense interest in the proceedings.
She trailed a hand down his chest.
“That—that’s ridiculously good,” he gasped. “I mean, it’s my chest, it’s never done anything for me before, and—oh my God.”
That exclamation—and a jerk of his hips—was the consequence of her leaning in to swirl her tongue around his nipple.
“Daggett,” he murmured as she sat back and ran the pads of her fingers along his sharp jawline, tracing around his lips, feathering down his neck. He tipped his head back, giving her easier access. “Do you have any idea how hard it’s been to sleep practically but not quite next to you?”
“A pretty good idea, I’d wager,” she said, kissing the hollow of his throat as she let her hands drift lower. “Based on how it felt sleeping practically but not quite next to you.”
She’d reached his thighs. Hartgrave’s sharp exhalation telegraphed his opinion about that.
“I want to touch you,” he whispered, the words sending little electrical shocks down her spine. He’d fisted his hands in the sheets, holding himself back.
