Bound (19 page)

She was breathless when he pulled back, when he opened his gorgeous hazel eyes, when he looked up with heat and lust and every ounce of need she felt rushing through her. “You’re awake.”

Her smile returned. She rubbed against him again. Loved the way it caused him to suck in a breath. “You noticed.”

His gaze sharpened, searching hers. “How do you feel?”

“Horny.”

A slow smile spread across his luscious lips, and he laughed, a sound that was sweeter than anything she’d ever heard. Deep. Rich. Sexy. One that felt even better rumbling from his chest. “I can see that.”

She lowered her head and nipped at his square, chiseled jaw. Then brushed her lips across the dark stubble covering his skin as she worked her way toward his ear.

“I meant,” he managed, swallowing hard, “how are feeling? Light-headed? Nauseous? Hot?”

She licked his earlobe, drew it into her mouth and suckled. He trembled and tipped his head to the side, offering her more access. “Very hot. But this time just for you.”

She kissed the soft skin beneath his ear, kissed her way down his neck, loved how silky soft his hair was against her cheek. Before she could reach the hollow at the base of his throat though, he threaded his other hand into her hair and carefully pulled her away. “Wait.”

She shifted her weight back and looked down. Concern darkened his eyes. A concern that caused her heart to bump.

“You’ve been a little out of it, Tasa. I need to make sure you’re okay before we…”

The room was dark, only a sliver of light shone in around the edge of the curtains, but even in dimness she could see the pink tinge to his cheeks. And she loved that he was nervous. That he was worried. That he was thinking of her when he could so easily take everything she was offering without even asking.

Gently, she tugged his arms down to her waist, shifting so she was sitting on his lap. His erection pressed against her sex, and it was all she could do not to grind against it. “I’m fine, Titus. Much better than before. And I’m thinking clearly. Very clearly.”

Disbelief swirled in his eyes. He moved his hand from her leg—which she now realized was bare except for a bandage wrapped around her left thigh—to her forehead. Feeling, she knew, for her fever.

“You were so hot.”

“Don’t you think I’m still hot?”

He smiled again. “Scorching. But I like this heat a whole lot better than the last.”

She did too. She leaned forward and touched her lips to his again. “You cool me.”

“I know. I just haven’t figured out why.”

Oh, he had the softest lips. “Mm…”

“I don’t want to do anything to hurt you, Tasa,” he mumbled against her mouth.

“You can’t.” Then she realized he might not be worried
just
about her.

She eased back, resting her hands against his muscular chest. A scattering of fine, dark hairs covered his pecs. “What I have isn’t contagious—like a virus or anything. It’s just…part of me.”

“I know.”

She stilled. Remembered how he’d told her—on that rock ledge—that he could read minds. “You…know?”

He nodded. “I know about the fire element. And I don’t care. I’m not going to let anyone get to you.”

Her skin grew hot. Her pulse picked up speed. If he knew about the element, did he also know about the side effects and what would happen if she didn’t find Prometheus before it was too late?

He sat up, wrapped his arms around her, and kissed her again. And she realized she needed to push him away, to talk to him about this, but his lips were so soft, his mouth so wet and inviting, she couldn’t stop herself from taking another decadent taste.

Her hands landed against his shoulders. She opened to his kiss, her tongue slicking over his, again and again. Between her legs, he grew thick and hard. Her need for him rose to exponential levels.

“Gods.” He nipped at her lips. “I was so worried. You scared the shit out of me, baby. Don’t do that again.”

She swallowed hard. Knew that was inevitable. The dream—seeing him standing in those flames—rushed through her mind, bringing urgency back to the forefront. This conversation was getting too deep. If she told him about the side effects, she’d have to tell him the rest. And she didn’t want to do deep… Not right now. Not unless it involved him deep inside her.

She kissed him again. Loved the way he trembled whenever she touched him. Easing away, she grasped the hem of the nightgown, dragged it over her head, then dropped it on the floor beside the bed. “I don’t want to talk, Titus. I just want to feel. Make me feel.”

His eyes darkened. Lust and need swirled in their hazel depths. His fingers tangled in her hair, and he dragged her mouth back to his. And then he kissed her like no one had ever kissed her before.

Yes, yes. Just this
…

Energy coiled beneath her skin. Excitement tightened her stomach. She gasped when his tongue thrust into her mouth, then sighed at the exquisite taste of only him. His other arm tightened around her waist and he lifted her, then moved out from under her body and pushed her back on the mattress.

Tingles rushed all over her skin as his weight settled against hers. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, opened her legs to the push and pull of his hips, opened her heart to a man she had no business wanting but suddenly couldn’t let go.

Tomorrow she’d tell him the rest. Tomorrow she’d figure out what to do next.

Chapter Twelve

Titus pulled back from Natasa’s mouth and looked down at her.

His pulse was a roar in his ears, his cock so hard, he was afraid if he moved this would be over long before it started. He thought he’d been dreaming, but now, as his gaze ran over her face, as he took in every freckle, every inch of creamy skin, every tiny imperfection that made her real, he realized he wasn’t fantasizing. This was happening. She had started it. And he was the luckiest son of a bitch on the planet.

“You are so beautiful.”

A blush rose in her cheeks. Her warm, silky fingers tiptoed down his back until they rested on the waistband at his hips. She fisted the fabric. “Don’t talk. Kiss me.”

She lifted her mouth to his. He let her draw him into the kiss, let her take the lead and slide her tongue along his. He wanted her to enjoy, wanted her to feel everything. Told himself to be gentle with her. Even if she thought she was fine, he didn’t want to rush things.

The memory of how hot she’d been, how close he’d come to losing her, tightened the space around his heart.

She lifted her hips and rubbed against him. Mumbled, “More.”

He moved his hand across her bare shoulder, then down her chest until he finally found her breast. Soft skin filled his hand. He rolled her nipple between his thumb and index finger, swallowing the groan from her mouth. Relished the way it echoed deep inside his chest.

Her hand moved to his hair, tangling in the long strands. The fingers of the other worked their way under his waistband and brushed against the dimples on his lower back while he kissed her ear, the pulse point at her throat, while he nibbled his way to her shoulder.

“Titus…that feels so good.”

She had no idea. Not a single emotion flowed from her into him. No pain. No memories. Nothing but sweet, blessed warmth that jacked him even higher.

He kissed his way down to her breast and finally brought it to his mouth. His tongue flicked the sensitive nipple. She groaned, arched, pulled his hair until a lick of pain shot across his skull.

Gods, she was so sexy. On fire—in a good way—and
his
.

He’d never wanted anyone to be his, had never wanted the burden or responsibility of a soul mate but now couldn’t imagine being without her. He kissed her other breast, laved his tongue over the nipple, and suckled. She scraped her fingernails against his scalp. He worked his way down her stomach, circling his tongue around the soft indent of her belly button and pressing soft kisses to her pale, perfect skin.

Her scent excited him. Aroused him. His cock throbbed as he pushed her legs wide, as he slid lower. He eased back to look down at her in the dim light.

“Oh,
ligos Vesuvius
.”

She was wet and swollen and hot. He parted her with his fingers and breathed against her mound. She planted her feet against the mattress, grasped the sheet with both hands at her hips, threw her head back, and groaned.

Mine, mine, mine…
The words roared in his head. He was a man possessed, and he didn’t even care. Lowering his head, he licked her center. Then swallowed the sweet, tart, sexy taste of her on his tongue.

“Oh, gods, Titus…” She lifted her hips, fisted the sheet, and pressed against him. “More.”

He licked her again, loving every groan and mewling sound she made. He glanced up her body, watched her closed eyes tighten, watched pleasure slide over her features.

All mine
…

He wanted her panting. Wanted her as desperate for him as he was for her. He flicked his tongue against her clit again and again, ran his finger down her sex, found her opening, and pressed inside. Every muscle in her body tightened. He stroked deeper. Flicked faster. Suckled.

Fire filled in his mouth, his heart, his soul. She screamed out her release and quaked beneath him. Finally collapsing against the mattress in a sweaty, sexy lump.

Victory pulsed in his veins. He brought her down gently, kissing her inner thigh, her hip, brushing his lips against her lower belly. She was drenched from his mouth, from her climax. His cock ached to be inside her, but he didn’t want to hurt her. He pressed his mouth against the curve of her breast and rested his forehead against her chest. Bracing his hands on the mattress, he breathed deep to calm his raging urge.

Her fingers slid into his hair. Stilled. “What’s wrong?”

What’s wrong?
He laughed, then groaned because the friction made his dick that much harder. “Nothing. Everything’s finally
right
.”

“Not right,” she whispered. “Not yet anyway.”

She flipped him to his back. His eyes flew wide, not just at her strength but at her determination. She stripped his pants, climbed over his hips, grasped his cock in the tight grip of her hand, then lined herself up and lowered, taking him deep with the very first touch.

Holy…
gods…

Sensations bombarded him from every side. Her slick, tight channel clenching around him. Her soft, silky skin cradling his hips and thighs. The press of her palms against his chest and the weight of her body lifting, lowering, taking him deep again and again.

He grasped her hips, rising to meet her downward stroke. Searched her eyes for any sign of discomfort. But he only saw power and need and fire. A blazing inferno that consumed him and filled that place inside that had been empty for so long.

He sat up, wrapped his arms around her, pulled her tight, and captured her mouth as she rode. She groaned. Opened. Kissed him so deeply.

This was better than anything he’d ever felt. Better than all those years alone. Better than worrying about a world he couldn’t change and always doing what someone else wanted him to do.

“Come with me, Tasa.”

“Yes.” She rode faster. Her fingers slid into his hair; her palms radiated heat against his scalp. Her body claimed his. “
Yes…
”

His climax burst through him like a volcano erupting in a plume of heat and light and combustible energy. He felt her tighten around him, heard her cry out her own release. Knew in those moments something inside him had just blown wide open too.

And somehow also knew, in the connection he shared with her, that turning away from the Argonauts, choosing her over everything else, might very well lead him to a place he couldn’t return from.

* * *

Isadora sipped the cup of tea that wasn’t doing much to calm her frayed edges and looked out the window at the sparkling view of Tiyrns.

The hour was early—dawn shone over the buildings and spires of the city—and though she was tired, she hadn’t slept more than an hour or so the night before. She leaned back against the wall in the window seat, pulled her knees up as far as she could, and winced when the babe inside her kicked hard, telling her he didn’t appreciate being squished.

“Okay, okay,” she muttered, stretching out her legs again on the soft seat cushion. “I get it. You’re already like your father. Demanding and irritatingly stubborn.”

A door clicked open somewhere close. She looked up, then smiled when her sister, Casey, peeked around the corner of Isadora’s bedroom suite. “You’re up earlier than I expected. No luck sleeping?”

Isadora frowned and smoothed a hand down the t-shirt stretched tight over her belly. “None. This kid already doesn’t like me. I thought that wasn’t supposed to happen for several years.”

One corner of Casey’s lips curled. Silky purple pajamas with wide cuffs at the wrists and ankles covered her slim body. “I wouldn’t know. But if memory serves, my grandmother said I was a handful from the time I was in diapers. Maybe it runs in the family.”

“There’s a comforting thought. Where’s Theron? Isn’t he going to miss you at this hour?”

“He was tossing and turning last night. I kicked him out of bed because he was keeping me up.” Casey tucked a lock of dark brown hair behind her ear. “I think he’s still in his office with Zander, discussing ‘strategy.’”

That so-called “strategy” would be finding Titus. Isadora knew Theron wouldn’t sleep until each of his guardians was accounted for. He worried over them like children, which was an ironic thought coming from her. At one time she’d been more afraid of Theron than she had been of her father.

She nearly laughed at that realization. Her life had been so easy back then. Now she had an entire kingdom to worry about. And a husband she hadn’t heard from since the scene in the courtyard with Nick.

Casey sat at the end of the window seat, tucked her legs up under her, and held out her hands. “Let me feel.”

Sighing, Isadora moved her hand back, and Casey rested both palms on her stomach. The baby kicked out again, right under her fingers, then managed what felt like a double backflip.