then, I’d known he was different. Never had a voice reached me without my seeking it first.
Perhaps that was the reason his dark, primal passion resonated so deeply inside me. Only, I knew that wasn’t the whole truth. I shied away from the fact I found him every bit as irresistible as did the woman next door who had more men passing through her door than the Saints’ locker room.
He was back—the one with the wicked kisses and silky caresses—and soon he’d be sliding into bed with her. Although why, when she’d barely satisfied him the last time, I didn’t understand.
I told myself I was on a deadline, I couldn’t afford to lose sleep—but her delight was palpable. What was it about him that made him such an overwhelming temptation?
Curious, I relaxed the defenses I instinctively threw up to ward off the sensations that swept through my body when people nearby began to lose themselves to passion.
For once, I waited eagerly for the intrusion of carnal thoughts drifting in the ether. I reached out, finding the slender threads of their spirits as they lifted, intertwined, and followed them back into her room. Because I could only meld with one, I chose her.
Her eagerness flooded me with heat. Already, her breasts tingled and tightened…as did mine.
He stepped closer. I knew because she inhaled sharply, dragging in the fragrance clinging to his cheeks and dampened hair. His scent, redolent with the aroma of fresh rain and heated male musk, slowly filled my nostrils.
In moments, his lips glided across her mouth, fastening to suction softly before he thrust his tongue inside. He tasted of mint and coffee, and something else I didn’t recognize because he moved on too quickly, sliding his firm lips along her jaw and lower.
Her sighs deepened, her slender frame trembled. He pushed her down to the mattress and covered her, head to toe, a blanket of solid muscle and masculine heat.
Anticipation shortened our breaths and made our hearts pound faster. He reached out to snag her wrist. His thumb swept back and forth as he pushed her hand above her head and pressed it into the pillow—a silent command to submit.
Could he feel her pulse leap beneath his gently chafing thumb?
I could. My own pulse skittered, and then rushed screaming through my body to plump the folds of my sex, he brought me to the brink that fast.
Something about him drew me helplessly into her bedroom, kept me trapped beneath his long, rangy frame, my mind and body opening to the wicked delights he rained upon her warm skin.
I closed my eyes and let the fingers she trailed along his body tell me how sleek and hard his muscled back and flanks were.
When she plunged her hands into his thick hair, I learned its silky texture and length. When he leaned over her to kiss her mouth, I felt it sweep forward to brush my cheeks.
The weight of his body crushed the breath from her, and made me gasp with pleasure. The pressure of his clothed, rigid cock burrowing between her folds drew a lusty wash of liquid arousal from her body…and mine.
My legs splayed open. My knees came up to hug the sides of his hips and encourage him closer, deeper.
“Too many clothes…” Her soft words intruded…or were they mine?
A hot, hard palm cupped a naked breast; his thumb scraped a ruched nipple. I arched my back to press against his hand, demanding a rougher exploration. When his lips latched onto a nipple and drew hard, I gasped.
My hips rolled, beginning a rhythm that slowed the beats of my racing heart, and my hands fell to the pillow beside my head as I let him lead me—no, lead us—toward completion.
“I need you naked…please…inside me…” I whimpered. Already the walls of my vagina clenched and rippled, readying for his penetration.
He murmured, nuzzling my neck until I turned my head to the side to allow him to trail a wet kiss along my skin. His teeth scraped, eliciting a moan, his lips drew on my skin, suckling hard for a moment, and then I felt a sharp, piercing pain—
A scream ripped the air. Mine? Hers? My eyes slammed open in the darkness, the thread unraveling as I jackknifed upward to sit at the edge of my bed.
What the hell had just happened?
A shadow passed in front of the French doors that led to the balcony outside my bedroom. Had a cloud passed in front of the moon? My French Quarter apartment was three stories up; my fire escape ladder secured.
Invite me in!
Ice-cold terror doused the heat coursing through my body. The words hadn’t been spoken aloud. This time I could be sure neither my ears nor hers had heard them. His voice echoed inside my mind—harsh and angry. The doors were glass and slender slats of wood—if he chose, he could force his way inside.
If not tonight, I’ll be back tomorrow night, and the next…. You will open to me.
I sat stunned, aware of my nudity, aware of the sensual snare he’d laid on her bed…for me. But wasn’t this what I’d secretly hoped for? A chance to experience his brand of dangerous passion for myself?
After all, I’d filtered my neighbor’s activities over the months, allowing in just what I needed to fill my muse. Only with this man had I been tempted to linger and fill my well with my own lust.
He waited, as though sensing my internal battle. And what had he done? At the last moment when I’d felt him pierce her skin, I’d also felt the bloom of an orgasm, so intense it had frightened me more than the thought he might have somehow wounded her.
I reached for my thin silky robe and shrugged my arms inside, cinched the belt around my waist, and approached the doors. My stomach clenched, my body trembled—I was afraid, but also filled with a sense that this was inevitable.
As I stepped closer, I straightened my shoulders—I wasn’t exactly without weapons of my own. The closer to the doors I drew, the more I gave myself over to the remnants of the simmering sensuality he’d fed me. My hips loosened and swayed, my breasts tightened, my thighs slid together and apart, building a frictional heat only one thing could assuage.
His shadow loomed, tall with broad shoulders and a narrow waist. I already knew how soft the skin was that stretched over his lean, muscled frame.
Closing my eyes for a brief moment, I turned the lock and opened the doors.
His hot, surly gaze swept over me, then locked with mine. “May I come in?” he whispered roughly.
He’d gotten me to comply with his demand, and yet he hesitated—he needed my permission to enter my room.
A soft rain fell, dampening his dark shirt and misting my face and the vee of skin exposed above the neckline of my robe.
I canted my head and stared at the hard edges of his face—the sharp, high cheekbones and square, stubbled jaw. His brows were furrowed, drawn in a fearsome frown as dark as the midnight hair brushing the shoulders of his cotton shirt.
Empowered by his need for me to obey, I was oddly unafraid. Staying just inside the
