He shuddered beneath her. Then his head was lifting. He pushed her back against the tiled shower wall. Her toes curled in the stream of water.
“Spread your legs.” Guttural.
Right, like she had to be told twice. Um, and, yeah, they actually were already parted but she could spread them a little bit more for him.
His hand drifted down her stomach. Her breath came faster. “Don’t play,” she told him, tossing back her wet hair. “Touch me.”
His fingers slid between her legs. Found the center of her need. Her toes stopped curling. Mostly because she’d just jumped right up on her toes as her body went bow-tight.
He stroked her lightly. That wasn’t enough. But then . . .
Then he pushed one finger into her.
“Tight,” his growl. “Hot.”
Yes, she was pretty much burning alive right then. And the fire used to scare her?
No, this fire is different. This wasn’t about flames. It was about lust and need and pleasure.
He worked a second finger into her. Sabine had to bite her lip to hold back her cry. Not of pain. Not even close.
His fingers slid out. Pushed back inside.
His thumb brushed against her clit.
Every muscle in her body tightened. She’d never been one to build quickly to orgasm but . . .
He withdrew those fingers, thrust them into her once more, stroked over her clit, and she broke.
Broke into what felt like a hundred pieces as pleasure crashed over her. She yelled his name. Let her nails dig into his flesh. Her body pulsed and throbbed and the pleasure wasn’t ending because he had his hands around her waist now. He’d lifted her again, positioned her, and the head of his c**k drove into her core.
Her legs clamped tightly around his hips. His mouth was at her throat. His teeth grazing over her skin. He withdrew and thrust, and her back pushed harder against the tile.
The pleasure kept building, so much pleasure that she could barely breathe.
His teeth sank into her neck. His c**k pushed into her body. He had her positioned so that every stroke took the length of his c**k over her sensitive flesh, over her cl*t once more. Her eyes squeezed shut. She’d never felt anything like this before.
She’d died. Known pain and fear and hell.
This . . . this was consuming. Every breath was paradise. Every move, pleasure.
The sensations built, crested, and she lost her breath as the cl**ax peaked.
Ryder was with her. He thrust deep once more. Shuddered. “Sabine.” No one had ever said her name like that. Like it was life.
His head had lifted. She forced her eyes open. Pleasure. That was all she saw on his face. Blind pleasure.
The same thing she felt.
The steam drifted around them. Their heartbeats raced. Her sex was trembling with little after-bursts from her cl**ax. In her whole life, she’d never, ever had sex like this.
Her body was trembling, and in the aftermath of so much pleasure, Sabine found that she felt vulnerable.
His lips brushed hers.
Her legs eased down his hips. “Ryder . . .” How did she explain that she wasn’t usually like this? For a while there, it had been as if someone else took control of her. She’d only known need and lust.
The ache inside had been satisfied. Her control was back.
Her feet slid against the tile. Ryder kept a steady hold on her as he turned off the water. The shower’s drip-drip-drip seemed too loud to her ears.
He stared down at her, frowning a bit. “You didn’t . . .”
Um, yeah, she most definitely had. “That was more pleasure than I’d ever had before.”
But he shook his head, his gaze centered on her mouth. She licked her lips, and enjoyed it when his pupils expanded, showing his desire.
His fingers rose and brushed over her lips. “You didn’t take my blood.”
Um, yeah. Because that wasn’t exactly sexy times for her. She loved it when he bit her—and wasn’t that a huge change from their first meeting?—because his bite sent her body into pleasure overdrive.
“You don’t have fangs.” He sounded shocked.
She blinked up at him. Not exactly the after-sex conversation she’d thought would come. “This surprises you because . . . ?”
“Because you had them before.” His hand dropped. “What the hell is going on?”
Because you had them before. Suddenly some of that wonderful afterglow was fading.
Drip-drip-drip. The dripping water grated on her nerves. She pushed past him. Reached for a towel and wrapped it around her body. “Ryder . . .”
“I changed you.”
She shook her head, hoping to deny his words. “No, that’s not true.”