Free FALL (The Senses) by Cindy Paterson

positive.
    “Well?” Delara
asked, her voice restrained. Okay, she was mad and had every right to be after
he left her so abruptly.
    Words
eluded him, a definite first. How did he tell this woman that he wanted a
one-night stand? “How are you feeling?”
    Delara
tilted her head to the side, her nose scrunching a minute amount, and he knew
she was trying to scent his feelings. A Reflection would have been able to tell
as soon as he entered the room, but Delara was a Tracker, able to track others
by their scent, so emotions were not as easy for her. Waleron could mask his
emotions from a Tracker, however he wanted Delara to feel his desire.
    When it
hit her, she stumbled back, the backs of her legs hitting the wooden frame of
the bed. Her eyes widened and her mouth gaped. Well that went over well. A
simple no would’ve sufficed.
    “Waleron,”
she whispered.
    Her
voice caressing his name was a reminder of what he clung to all the years of
misery and he snapped.
    It took
four strides to reach her. He grabbed the back of her neck, soft tendrils fell
across his hand and he clenched his jaw to abstain from groaning. He pulled her
small frame against his own, and she gasped. He knew he frightened her with his
aggressive movement, but it was too late to stop. Too late to do anything but
take what he wanted and hold the one woman that made the ice around his heart
melt.
    One
night. He’d risk the chance of further torture for one night.
    He
crushed her to him, every inch of her body pressed up against his own to light
the fire that had been simmering since the moment their eyes met across the
courtyard so long ago.
    She
sensed it.
    He knew
it.
    He
cupped her chin in a firm grip, tilted her head up, and forced her eyes to meet
his own. “Once,” he said with all the power he could muster. He needed her to
know that this was all he could give. It would sustain him for the rest of his
life.   
    She made
a half moan as if swallowing the fear of what he no longer offered and met his
cold, ice-blue eyes, not saying anything. He needed her to agree to this.
    Her hand
reaching between them and resting over the cage of his heart disintegrated his
willpower and in one fluid motion he swept her up into his arms and laid her on
the white sheets. Without losing contact he followed, knowing that these few
hours with her had to last him thousands of years. He wasn’t going to waste a
single touch, a single ounce of pleasure.
    He sunk
down on top of her and nestled between her thighs, his arousal fighting the
restriction of his black army pants. He hesitated, knowing he had to memorize
this, each touch, each look in her eyes, every tantalizing feeling that sated
his hunger.
    Her lips
parted as her slender fingers rose to caress his cheek, a feathered stroke that
sent his mind into oblivion of sweet yearning.
    “Impossible,”
he muttered before he gave in to his mind and body, capturing her lips with his
own and losing himself. Something he promised he’d never do again and yet this
woman made him.
    It was a
fierce kiss, driven by a passion so laden with need that he cared not to
interpret what it meant. He felt the satin feel of her tongue as it met his
with the same fury. His hands grabbed hers and brought them above her head to
trap them. He needed this to last and her touching him would end all his
restraint.
    Meshed
as one, he roamed her mouth, memorizing her taste and the feel of her lips
moving against his own with the same driving force, making this the most
dangerous act he’d ever experienced. They could never do this again. His Scar
would eventually take over his entire body and it would feed off of this and
hurt her.
    She
fought his unyielding grip on her wrists, but he refused to let go. She sighed,
the sound heightening his awareness, and he relished it as his lips traveled
over her chin and down her neck to where he breathed in her scent of the peach
soap clinging to her.
    “Please,”
Delara begged, tilting her neck as