“Danielle,” he huffed, sliding a hand in her hair.“M’étoile.”
“Please,” she whimpered. Whatever came next would incinerate her, she knew this, and she was ready to burn alive. “Now...”
“Danielle,”he ground out, a warning.
Dani closed her eyes, and canted her hips, and opened herself, pressing her legs wide. She hitched her thighs on his haunches. Their bodies were wet and magnetic, on the cusp.
“Danielle,” he cried softly.
She bowed up, seeking.
“You’re killing me,” he moaned.
“How can you die on your rescue mission if you’ve been killed here first?”
“Mercy, please...” His face was creased with restraint.
“You said you wanted to give me pleasure,” she whispered. “This is the pleasure I want.”
“You don’t know all the ways,” he panted.
“You also claimed to have no goals beyond the rescue of your friend. Well, there’s a goal for you. Giving me pleasure in all the ways.”
He gaped at her. She licked her lips and shimmied beneath him, sliding on his hardness. She’d not fully understood her new boldness—not the source of it and not the result. He’d been correct, she barely knew what she was doing in his bed. And he’d made her no promises. He’d declared nothing. He’d suggested... he’d hinted... but he’d promised only that he was going away. And yet...
And yet, she goaded and teased and urged him. His eyes fell closed. His head hung, and he propped his forehead against her cheek. His breath sawed in and out. “I want you so desperately,” he said.
“Please?” she whimpered.
And that was enough.
He let out a growl, he coiled, lifting. He pushed himself inside of her in one, swift stroke. Dani cried out, tears shooting to her eyes, but she was not afraid. She’d known there would be pain. There was a new burn, different from before; satisfying in a more intimate, unifying way.
“I’m sorry,” he rasped into her neck. “Is it bad?”
“It’s very vivid.”
Holding his body still, he reached beside them and slowly drew her leg higher on his hip. First on one side, then the other. This changed the angle and lessened the sting.
“Breathe,” he told her, and she breathed.
Still not moving, he began to kiss her neck, her jaw, her cheek. Dani’s eyes fluttered open. She saw his face, slick with sweat, creased with endurance. When he came to her lips, he paused. Instead of kissing her, he lightly licked the corner of her mouth. She felt tiny, little intermittent flutters; there one second, gone the next. She touched her own tongue to the edge of her mouth, trying to catch the next swipe, but he was too quick. She whimpered. He licked the corner of her mouth again. Again, she tried to catch him. Back and forth they went, all the while her body relaxed. The uncomfortable tightness began to feel more like delicious fullness. The previous burn, pleasurable and ravenous, came like gentle waves on a beach, lapping over the sting.
When she failed a fifth time to meet his tongue, she turned her head and captured his mouth in a proper kiss. He kissed her back and slid a hand between them, lazily toying with her breast. The good burn flared; she felt a line of heat from her breast to her center. Without thinking, she rocked her hips. It was one, searching pump. She sighed.
Bannock went very still. He stopped kissing. He stopped breathing.
Dani’s eyes flew open. “Sorry,” she offered.
He let out a painful laugh.
“What is it?”
“Are you... comfortable?” he rasped.
“Oh yes,” she admitted thoughtfully. “So very comfortable.”
“Can you...?” he ventured.
