Free Savage Bond (The Fallen) by Anne Marsh Page B

raspberries or not and she understood exactly what she wanted from him. He didn't deal in uncertainties. Ever.
    His hands gripped her hips, spanning the delicate bones with his hands. She was human, fragile and he couldn't let himself forget that. He needed to remember the consequences of kissing her. Because she tempted him more than any woman he'd ever held and his control was already too tenuous.
    "Maybe?" he growled. "Let me know when you've made up your mind, Ria."
    Her fingers brushed over her own nipples and the little hum of feminine satisfaction undid him. He could give her more, but he shouldn't. His fingers flexed, his thumb stroking little circles against the soft curves of her stomach as the emotions poured from her. Her aura was as wild and hesitant, as fiery, as a good sunset. He'd watched more than his fair share of sunsets, felt the blaze of heat and color slipping away to be replaced with night. He'd been alone in the dark for thousands of years. He knew better than to reach for that heat of hers, but he couldn't lose her. Not yet.
    He brushed his mouth against her skin again, tasting the pulse that beat strong and bright against his lips. That fire of hers undid him.
    "Are you ready for me, Ria?"
    Her head pushed back against his shoulder, her hands finding his wrists and holding on. He was already lost, his hands moving, pulling apart the jumpsuit, baring all her pretty skin for his touch. He fought for control, a grimace pulling the corners of his lips back. He wanted this to be good for her. To give her what she needs. He could sense all too clearly the need in her. The loneliness. Christ, he understood those emotions too well. When her hands had gone to his wrists, he'd been prepared for her to push him away. He'd go, too. He'd played many sensual games, but he'd never forced a woman and he wasn't starting tonight.
    Instead, she held on. She didn't let go of him at all, the sweet heat of her passion rolling over him as she shocked him by guiding his hand closer. Deeper. Harder. That seductive confidence was his undoing.
    "I think you are," he growled, sliding his hand down the rounded curve of her belly and over the little lilac panties. She was soaking wet. Blazing hot. Boldly, he caressed that lace-covered mound, drawing his finger down the tempting crease.
    "Yes," she said, pressing her mound against his hand. Her thighs parted, opening up for him and he repeated the caress, dragging his finger through those lace-covered folds, rubbing the fabric against her slick flesh. Her juices saturated the cotton, her bare skin temptingly close.
    She was supposed to be an MVD agent, all buttoned up and play-by-the-rules. He was in charge here. But he wasn't. Somehow, she'd got him wrapped around her fingers. She'd watched him for months, but he'd been watching her, too. Learning her. And Ria Morgan liked to watch. Liked to tease.
    And, apparently, she liked to sin.
    He pressed his erection against her sweet ass and she opened up more, letting his hand slip deep and cup her.  The spicy sweet scent of her exploded through his senses as his fingers found her fiery heat. She was wet where she pressed against him, rubbing those soft folds against his fingers. Demanding more.
    He could give her that. "I'll make this good," he promised, taking the zipper down further with his free hand. He wanted to see this, to see her opening up for him, letting him in. He pulled her closer, taking in the sight of his fingers on her lacy panties, a dark shadow against the delicate lavender. The shadow of dampness teased him where the panties dipped low beneath the soft curve of her belly, skimming her mound to curve up her ass. Those panties of hers were wicked and provocative and all he wanted was to tear them off her.
    "You can," she said, as if she could read his mind, as if they had truly bonded and her feelings were open to him. "If you want to."
    He did. He wanted to flip her over, take her deep and hard. Feel every inch of