Page 86 of Kiss of Wrath

His eyes devoured her.

Her eyes devoured him. For a second, panic assailed her and he was about to bolt. She couldn’t help her anxiety. He was big. All over.

“Stay,” he said, picking up a bar of soap. Wrinkling his nose at the floral scent, he shrugged and stepped under the showerhead, lathering up his hair and face and upper body.

She watched, fascinated. No longer in a panic. In fact, just the opposite. “As if I have any intention of going anywhere when I have a Christmas gift, birthday present, and a surprise party standing before me in all his naked glory.”

“The things you say!” He shook his head, causing droplets to hit her in the face. His eyes glowed with a savage blue fire, Viking to the bone, wounded man to the soul, and yet there was a deliberate calmness there, as well.

He took his time, leisurely soaping and rinsing his chest and abdomen, his underarms and belly. When he got to his genitals, he took special care, holding her eyes the entire time, as he cupped himself, then ran a fist over the soap-slick, blue-veined length of him.

Clean now, he gave his full attention to her as she stood pressed against the corner to the right of the showerhead. She didn’t cower under his study, knowing instinctively that he found no problem with her thin body and small breasts. He kept his lips pressed together to hide his elongated incisors, which she’d had a peek at a moment ago when he’d raised his face to the shower.

Setting the soap aside and finger-combing his hair back off his face and over his shoulders, he flicked his fingers at her, motioning her to step toward him.

What an arrogant, presumptuous, male thing to do!

She did just that, stepping into his open arms. What a submissive female she was turning out to be!

At first, he just held her tightly against him, his face pressed down into the curve of her neck and shoulder. Then he turned his head slightly and whispered against her ear, “I have never wanted a woman as much as I want you.”

Okay, she’d been half turned on all day and more turned on at first sight of his blue steeler, but this huskily spoken declaration was the bow on her birthday/Christmas present. She squeezed his shoulders and leaned back to look at him.

He put a hand over his mouth to hide his incisors . . . um, fangs.

“Don’t,” she said, pulling his hand away. “They are who you are, whatever that is. Besides, we all have our flaws.”

“And yours are?” he asked, clearly grateful for her acceptance.

“Come on. You have eyes. My small breasts.”

“Odd you should mention them. Seems I’ve developed a preference for small over large.” He cupped both breasts from underneath and they only half filled his big hands. When he flicked his thumbs over both nipples, they rose to attention, begging for more.

She sighed at the sensitivity of her breasts and his expert ministrations.

“Besides, your sweet nipples more than compensate for any lack.”

Instead of leaning down, he lifted her by the waist so that her feet dangled a foot off the floor and his mouth could latch on to one breast and suckle her deep into his mouth.

“Oh. My. God.” A keening sound of intense pleasure ripped from her arched throat. She threw her head back farther in ecstasy, which caused her breasts to press forward, begging for more.

“You like that, do you, sweetling?”

“No, I practically climaxed because I hate it so,” she gasped out.

“You have a sarcastic mouth on you, wench,” he said, grinning at her.

Grabbing his head, she planted him on her other breast. In the midst of chuckling, he licked and kissed and sucked on that nipple, too.

Backing her up against the wall, he turned off the shower and moved his attention to her mouth and spent considerable time showing her that there were dozens of ways of kissing, each of them worthy of praise, not that she was coherent enough to utter a word of praise. The whole time he was kissing her, his hands were busy searching for all the erotic spots on her body. And finding them!

At some point she must have raised her legs and wrapped them around his waist. Or maybe he had done it for her. In any case, his long fingers were stroking her from behind as she undulated against his balls and the underside of his penis that rose upward toward his navel.

A kaleidoscope of colors burst behind her eyelids, and her entire body went stiff. With the last bit of sanity she still held onto, Miranda asked, “Do you have a condom?”

“I do not need a condom. I carry no disease, and I told you before that I am sterile.”

Mordr wasn’t the first man to claim sterility or a vasectomy when in the throes of sex, but somehow she sensed that he was telling the truth. And so she nodded.