Free Hunting Medusa: The Medusa Trilogy, Book 1 by Elizabeth Andrews

let him catch her mouth. Just for a minute. She wouldn’t admit it to him, but this really was a pretty good distraction.
    His kiss was even better now than that morning. Much better than last night. It turned her brain to mush and made her pulse quicken. Made her ache.
    When his tongue slid along her lower lip, she met it with her own, coaxing him into her mouth, and then the mush of her brain disintegrated into ash. Poof—nothing left.
    When the mattress hit her back, she barely noticed, sliding her hands up to twine in his hair and keeping his delicious mouth close. He didn’t seem to need persuading, shifting over her so his chest pressed into her suddenly aching breasts, sliding over her tight nipples and sending a rush of need into her middle. Lower.
    He murmured something against her mouth, but she didn’t know what—didn’t really care. The hand he’d had on her thigh slid higher, pushing her legs apart to stroke her through her jeans, which felt damp and in the way. She let him shift her, lifting into his caresses, gratified to hear his groan.
    When Kallan moved his own thigh between hers, nudging it against her core, she caught her breath at the explosion of desire. Holy Gods, he knew just where and how to touch her. She whimpered this time in spite of herself when he rubbed over her clit. If she let him, he’d have her naked and under him in no time flat. Bad idea. But that didn’t mean she was ready to stop yet. She pushed at his shoulders and rolled him underneath her this time.
    He laughed against her mouth, sliding his hand up under the back of her shirt.
    She smiled too, just because, pressing her hips down over his. Gods, he felt good.
    She didn’t want to think about who they were, or why he was here, or if this might be her last few days alive. She wanted this, man and woman, heat and need. Just for a little while. Let her cursed hormones have their way one last time.  
    When his other hand slid under the front of her shirt to capture her breast, she arched into the caress, lifting her mouth to try to get a bit of oxygen to her deprived brain.
    “I want you, Andrea,” he rasped, tugging her bra down so he could pinch her nipple tight.
    She gasped. “Oh Gods.”
    “Yes, hard and fast, and slow and easy.” He rolled the taut peak between his finger and thumb, then pinched it again so she arched into his touch.
    And slammed her hips hard into his erection.
    He groaned. “Andrea.” He tugged her shirt up and off, then tossed her bra aside too.
    She wanted to touch skin. She fumbled with his T-shirt, shoving it up far enough so she could drag her fingers over the hard muscles of his abdomen, higher to the solid muscles of his chest, to the dark little nipples hidden in whorls of crisp black hair. And she bent to one, licking it and enjoying his shocked gasp. She scraped her teeth over the sensitive little bit of flesh, then he tumbled her to her back, dipping to catch her nipple between his teeth and lashing it with his tongue until she begged for more.
    He tore at the button on her jeans, and she heard an ominous sound when he ripped the zipper down and shoved the denim away, but she didn’t care, because his wonderful fingers found their way inside her panties— oh Gods —inside her.
    Hard and thick, but still not enough.
    Andi forced her eyes open in time to see his midnight black hair sliding over her breast as he kissed his way to her other nipple. She arched into his hot mouth and caught a glimpse of something shiny above her.
    The handcuffs.
    She shut her eyes for a second at the reminder of her true situation, feeling her hips jerk up to meet his demanding fingers, her body wet and open to him despite the situation.
    And a terrible idea occurred to her.
    She swallowed hard, then caught her breath when he pinched her clit as he’d done to her nipples, and fiery shards of pleasure exploded in her belly.
    She rolled again and he let her, his fingers teasing her now, his purely masculine