Free Sing for the Dead (London Undead) by PJ Schnyder Page B

fingertips sent thrills up her arm. Her breath caught and her pulse quickened. Her nipples tightened beneath her tank top. How did he trigger such hunger in her? How was she still thrumming with energy after slacking the blood madness?
    What was he waking inside her?
    Intuition poked at her. But it wasn’t answering her questions so she mentally shoved it aside.
    He released her hand and reached for her, his gaze never leaving hers as he cupped her cheek. She parted her lips, tried to think of something to say, but words scampered across her mind in every direction. Then his thumb brushed over her bottom lip and a wildness sparked inside her, an urge to break whatever hold he had on her without backing away. Oh no, backing away was the last thing she wanted to do.
    Instead, she set her teeth into his thumb.
    * * *
    The snarl escaped Kayden’s throat before he could control it. Little minx. Defiance lit her eyes as she released his thumb and then pressed a light kiss on it. His control broke. He slid his hand behind her head, grasped her nape and pulled her close for a deep kiss.
    She was liquid heat in his arms, her tongue dancing with his. He shifted his hands to get a good hold on her and pulled her across his lap. But she didn’t just lie there. No, she lunged up out of his grasp and straddled him. Her hands plunged into his hair as she first nipped at the corner of his mouth and then claimed it as hers, drinking him in and kissing him as if their lives depended on it.
    Never still, her body pressed against him. Her hips ground into his. He let his hands roam over every inch of her, reveling in the fantastic strength of the taut muscle under her sleek surface. No fragile flower, his fae, his faery woman. Tearing free of their kiss for a moment, he buried his face into the sweet depths of her cleavage as he pressed his hands into her back, encouraging her to arch for him.
    He tugged at the thin fabric stretched across her shoulders. “Take it off before I tear it off.”
    She leaned back, just a bit, and stared at him, deciding. Then she set her hands to the hem and peeled the garment off. He slid his hands underneath her tank top, followed it upward as she removed the tank as well.
    So soft, so smooth.
    Her bra was at odds with the stark plainness of her outerwear. Sheer lace held the most perfect breasts he’d ever seen, cupped in almost invisible support. He palmed one breast in each hand and squeezed, grinned when she gasped and took hold of his upper arms. She didn’t try to pull his hands away. But she did need the support. Her head fell back and she let out a soft mew as he massaged, molded, her breasts in his grip. She gasped again as he switched to teasing her taut nipples between thumb and forefinger, and the sound almost brought him to his own peak as his cock strained to get past the loose fabric of his borrowed sweatpants.
    He wanted her the way he needed food, water. He needed to bury himself inside her heat and live , the way too many people took for granted and no one in London ever forgot to. Why now, why with her, he didn’t plan to think on. Instinct drove him. His beast waited just beneath the surface.
    “It’s been a long time, lass.” The words tumbled out as he struggled to pull his control together. Important to let her know what she was getting into. “I’ve not the patience to go slow this first time with you.”
    “Then come inside me.” She leaned in, paused to meet his gaze in one long moment and then pressed her lips to his. Her response whispered against his mouth. “Patience...is not one of my virtues either.”
    This time he let the growl roll free from his throat as he set his hands on either side of her hips and deadlifted her, tossing her the short distance to the bed. He was on his feet with shifter speed and shredded the gods-be-damned sweatpants. She’d kicked off her boots the moment she landed and he helped her free of her pants, tossing them somewhere behind him.