Bethany's Rite (17 page)

He knew if he pressed, she’d fall to the passion between
them. It was too damn strong for either of them to resist when it flamed at
full force. But he was determined to draw her out emotionally as well. Not
simply overwhelm her with desire.

After the Slayer attack, he had allowed his fear and fury at
nearly losing her to take control of his lust. Though he had been harsh and
unyielding to her cries, she had whispered that she loved him. He still
couldn’t believe it.

He hadn’t deserved that kind of gift after how he had
treated her. And hearing those most treasured words after he had accused her of
betraying him and then refusing to give her a chance to defend herself was more
than he could take. The second after she had spoken, he had despised himself
and couldn’t bear to allow her to lie next to him so soft and giving.

Once he got his head out of his ass, however, the truth hit
him square in the heart. It didn’t matter whether he deserved her love or not,
he wanted it. Hell, he needed it. And each minute that passed with her trying
to keep it from him, he died a little more.

He was determined to hear those words from her again. Only
this time, he would hold her and love her until her fear and insecurity was
less than a distant memory. All day he had been working on her, taking every
opportunity to touch her. To tell her,
show
her the possibilities of
what their life could be like once they returned to Ilyria.

“Bethany?”

“What?” she snapped.

He smiled. Even grumpy, she was adorable. “Talk to me,” he
repeated.

Her eyebrows dove down over her eyes. “I don’t want to talk
to you. Did you ever think that maybe you bore me?”

Wyc burst out laughing and pulled her against his side.
“You’re right. We’ve done enough talking for a while.”

“You are the most arrogant b—”

Wyc stopped her rant with a kiss. She twisted against him.
He held her gently, allowed her to turn her face away. And rained soft kisses
down the length of her neck exposed by her movement.

The hands that had been pushing against his chest slid up to
cup his shoulders. He scraped his teeth across the sensitive skin behind her
ear. Settled his mouth there to kiss and tease until he felt her start to melt
in his arms. Moved down and opened his mouth over the pulse point at the base
of her neck. He circled the erratic heartbeat with his tongue and soared when
it kicked up, fast and hard.

Her fingers pressed into his shoulders and he shifted to
kiss her mouth. Just a light kiss, lips brushing lips, before he pulled back to
look at her face. Cupping her cheek with his palm, he surveyed the beauty he
held. Her green eyes, glittering like jewels, were heavy-lidded with passion.
His thumb swept over the curve of her cheek and down to the corner of her
mouth.

“Wyc?”

He hated that her voice sounded uncertain. He threaded his
fingers through her hair. Relished the heavy silk sliding across his palm as it
slipped free from his grasp. Pushed his hand in further to tangle in the dark
mass.

His gaze returned to hers, watching every flicker of emotion
that skittered through her eyes. Desire, fear, nervousness. Love.
Yes.
There it was. What he needed to breathe.

His eyes narrowed, and his nostrils flared. His hand
tightened to a fist in her hair as the intensity of his emotion crashed through
him. Then she looked away. Closed her eyes. Strangling his breath in his
throat.

“Look at me,” he whispered. Slowly, she opened her eyes.
With his fingertips, he followed the line of her jaw from under her ear to the
tip of her chin. “I want to make love to you, Bethany.”

“I can’t…I mean I don’t…I—”

He covered her lips with his fingers. “Let me?”

Let me? He was asking? Holy shit, she was in trouble. And
not just because that emotion releasing her stomach on a freefall to her feet
wasn’t the panic or anger she expected. Not the panic or anger she needed to be
strong enough to pull away.

All day, she had been fighting. Determined to outlast his
charm and the pull he had on her. At least for this one day. And she would
have. Was all set to be bad-tempered and argumentative clear up to the end.

Before he made the fire. And laughed. And kissed her. And
looked at her the same way he had last night right before he flipped her over
and gave her the first of three screaming orgasms.

And now he was asking to make love to her? Oh shit. Her
stomach flopped around in the bottom of her feet. She trembled.

He gathered her against his chest, nuzzled her hair. “Please
let me touch you, babydoll.”

“Yes.” The word was out before she even knew she was going
to say it. She wanted him. She wanted the emotion she saw in his eyes to be
real. To be truly for her. Only for her.

Her fingers dug into his muscles and she arched her body
into his embrace. One strong arm banded around her back. His other hand
smoothed down the side of her body to rest lightly on her hip. He tilted her
backwards over his arm, searching her face.

Whatever he was looking for so intently, he must have found.
An incredible tenderness lit his eyes and was joined by a slow, sexy smile.
That lethal combination struck the final deathblow to her determination to keep
Wyc out of her heart.

He sealed his coup with a kiss so sweet her surrender seemed
more victory than defeat.

A quiet sigh of protest left her lips as he pulled away.
Stood. Helped her to her feet.

“Stay right here,” he said.

She watched him extinguish lights and light candles, leaving
only their soft, flickering flames and the fire glowing. He walked back to the
bedroom, and then went into the kitchen, returning with two glasses, a bottle
of wine and a black satin bag. After dropping the bag on the floor beside the
rug, he set the glasses and wine beside the fireplace before opening a cabinet
and turning on the stereo. Low music drifted around her from hidden speakers
set throughout the room. She didn’t recognize the song, but the man’s
voice—low, strong and smooth—was wrapped in the primitive, jagged edge of
ruthless sensuality that had her blood smoldering with the need to be touched.

Her eyes closed and her head dropped back. There was no
doubt the music came with the cabin. It fit too perfectly. God, she was sorry
for whomever Rordyc had gone to all this trouble for. The woman was in for the
fight of her life if she intended to resist his seduction.

A small smile played about her lips. Right now, she didn’t
care about Rordyc or whatever plans he may have for his future.

Strong arms encircled her, drawing her close to a muscled
chest. She kept her eyes closed as her smile widened. Wyc nuzzled her neck.

“I like that smile,” he said. The smoky timbre of his voice
sent shivers across her skin, tightening her nipples and weakening her knees.
“Want to tell me what it’s about?”

“Uh-uh,” she said, sighing as his lips made their way down
her neck to her collarbone. “I’d have to think.” She lifted her head to meet
his gaze. “And I’m done with thinking today.”

His brows drew together slightly. “That bad?”

She closed her eyes again and nodded. “Oh yeah. That bad.”

His mouth settled firmly over hers. She opened eagerly and
welcomed the easy slide of his tongue over hers. With languid strokes, he
delved and tasted. She took her own sweet time exploring his mouth, running the
tip of her tongue over the edges of his teeth, letting him hold it between his
lips and suck.

With a soft moan, she pushed herself up to her toes and
pressed her hips to his. His hands slid down and seized her bottom, kneading it
in his big hands.

He pulled his head back, though he kept his hands in place,
ensuring their lower bodies maintained contact. “Do you know how crazy you’ve
been driving me all day? Running around without a bra—”

“I’m dressed perfectly modestly,” she said.

“And every time you got a little chilly or caught me looking
at you,” he said, bringing one hand up to cup her breast, “these beauties stood
up and saluted.”

His thumb flicked back and forth over her nipple until it
peaked underneath the stretchy material. “I think you left your bra off on
purpose.”

She hummed, neither denying nor confirming. He bent and
covered her nipple with his mouth. Laving it through the shirt until the
material clung to her flesh.

He stepped back and looked at his handiwork. Heat flared in
his eyes. “You have too many clothes on,” he said, the rasp of his voice
causing her other nipple to tighten in anticipation. Lifting her shirt by the
hem, he slowly peeled it up and off her body.

“Much better,” he said. And then said nothing for a very
long time. The systematic attention he lavished on her breasts had her
whimpering long before he showed signs of finishing.

When her knees started to buckle, she tried to pull away. He
wrapped his arm around her waist and lowered her to the thick alpaca fur rug in
front of the fireplace. She was surprised at the softness of the rug, not just
the silky curls of the pelt, but the thickness of the padding underneath it.
Definitely designed with laying on it in mind rather than walking on it.

Wyc stretched out beside her, raising himself up on one
elbow to continue his concentrated devotion to her breasts.

His hair seemed to absorb rather than reflect the shimmering
light from the fire and candles. Its darkness stark against the white of her
breasts. As she watched, he moved his head again and a puckered nipple peeked
out from between ebony strands. So incredibly erotic.

He sucked hard on her opposite breast and she moaned. Rubbed
her thighs together to try to alleviate the ache between them. Slid her fingers
through his hair and tangled them in place.

“Oh God, Wyc,” she whispered.

Shifting, he covered each breast with one of his hands.
“I’ve been waiting to get my hands on these all day,” he said, squeezing them
to emphasize his point.

“And my mouth.” He pressed his face to her chest and kissed
the valley between her breasts. And then took as much of her left breast into
his mouth as possible, sucking hard.

Bethany gasped and cradled his head. Her hips rose off the
floor.

Wyc sat up and whipped off his shirt. His skin glowed in the
firelight, warm and golden over sculpted shoulders, defined pecs and a set of
abs that rippled as he moved back to her.

He held her gaze as he lowered himself. His eyes glittered
with emotion and she reached for him. Splayed her hands over his chest and slid
them up to his neck as his chest neared hers. As soon as the tips of her
breasts came in contact with his skin, she closed her eyes and whispered his
name. Overwhelmed by the intensity of his touch.

He rocked side to side and back and forth, rasping her
nipples against his chest in slow, tortuous circles. When she opened her eyes,
he was still leaning on his elbows, still watching her face. She wanted him
closer, wanted to feel his weight on her. The sensation of only having their
skin touch at the places where he allowed her nipples to drag across his skin
was making her wild.

“Wyc!” She tightened her arms around his neck, arched up
into him.

He responded to her demand and crushed her beneath him. Hot,
hard body above, soft, deep-pile fur beneath. Her breasts flattened against his
chest and the thick ridge of his erection prodded her thigh. He took her mouth
in a steamy, tongue-thrusting kiss until she was breathless and grinding her
hips against his.

Damn. They both still had too many clothes on. All their
clothes, for that matter, below the waist. She pushed her fingers into his
front pockets and tugged. His pants didn’t move. Since that didn’t work, she
tried to pry her hands between their bodies to get to his zipper.

Wyc slid down her body, taking his pants out of her reach.
She was about to voice a protest when his hand slid between her legs and
pressed. Her protest came out as a moan of pleasure.

He kissed his way to the top of her jeans, making the
muscles in her stomach jump. She reached for her own zipper and he pushed her
hands away. God, she couldn’t take much more of this. Her jeans had to be wet
through by now. When his tongue traced from one side to the other just under
her waistband, her toes curled tight inside her shoes.

Pressing the side of his face to her belly, he whispered,
“Your skin is so soft. And you have the most amazing body. Perfect.”

Bethany’s automatic response was to think of a
self-depreciating comment to throw back at him. To laugh at the reverence in
his voice, especially since he had made such a ridiculous statement. Her? Have
a perfect body? But the sincerity of his words and the worship-like veneration
of his touch left her in awe and speechless.

No one had ever shown her so much tenderness or affection.
She wasn’t sure what to do with the feelings he continually evoked. Once
already, she had fooled herself into thinking about love and even saying it out
loud.

That had been a mistake. Big, big mistake. Whopper. He
hadn’t been able to get away from her fast enough. She might not be the next
Einstein, but she did learn from her errors. No way was she going to confuse
lovemaking with love again.

There was clearly emotion running between them; she’d accept
that. But for all she knew, it could be a residual effect of the Guardian
spell. If Myrra told her the truth, that enchantment was nearing its end.
Whatever tenderness Wyc felt toward her could disappear with the spell’s
termination.

Bethany closed her eyes against the gray weight of
hopelessness that bore down on her at that idea. She put the thought out of her
mind. No matter what her future held, at least she had more answers to her past
now. She’d had a mother who loved her and tried to protect her. She hadn’t been
purposely abandoned as a child and might still have family living.

And she had the sexiest man on the planet unzipping her
pants. If he didn’t love her, he at least seemed to care for her. For now. And
that was something. More than she’d ever been given before.

She wiggled her hips and helped him get the rest of her
clothes off. He pushed to his feet to remove his pants and boots. The room was
just cool enough to make her miss the heat of his body, but as he undressed,
she gladly relinquished a little warmth for the sight of the man in front of
her. From top to bottom, Wyc Kilth was lust molded into perfected, human form.

Once he had removed the last of his clothes, he stood
motionless above her, looking down. Held suspended in the moment, she caressed
him as intimately with her eyes as he did her. The fire crackled quietly behind
her. The constantly altering flames danced light and shadow across his form.
Lovingly, she catalogued as many nuances of his body as she could, tucking the
memories away for a time when they’d be all she had.

On her pass back up his body, her gaze collided with his
frown. He knelt beside her and pulled her into his arms. His kiss was firm and
giving. But there was an edge of desperateness to it she didn’t understand. She
took it, returned it. Until she was twisting against him, demanding more.

He laid her down on her back and joined her, reclining on
his side next to her, propped up on his forearm. She started to roll toward
him, but with a hand on her hip, he gently guided her to lay back. He skimmed a
rough hand down her outer thigh to her knee, hooked it and drew it to the side,
opening her legs.

The air was cool against the wet heat that had been building
at the apex of her thighs. His hand moved up her inner thigh. He didn’t pause
when he reached her pussy, but slid a finger deep inside her cunt.

Not sure what she had been expecting, she knew it hadn’t
been that. Her eyes locked on his in surprise. His finger began a leisurely
rhythm of retreat and advance.

She opened her mouth to say something. His finger plunged
deeper. A sound of grating ecstasy overrode her words. Her head pressed into
the rug and her neck arched. The desire to touch him was enormous, but her
fingernails had dug into the thick, silky fleece of the rug and refused to let
go.

“Come for me, Bethany,” Wyc said. Her eyes opened to see him
watching her face, intensity sharpening his features.

A second finger joined the first and she swallowed a sob of
need. The heel of his hand pressed down on the top of her cleft, leaving the
tip of her clitoris to chafe against the calluses on his palm as he ground his
hand on her sex.

Heart hammering, Bethany felt the pull of her impending
climax tug every nerve ending taut as it coiled tighter and tighter with each
move of his hand.

“I love to watch you come, Bethany,” he whispered. “Your
eyes go wide. Blind with your pleasure. Your skin turns the prettiest pink. The
little sounds you make deep in your throat make me so goddamn hard.

“And listen to that.” He stabbed his fingers in and out of
her again. The liquid suction of her cunt on his finger sounded in the room
along with her harsh breaths. “So wet for me. Showing me how much you want me.”

She let out a hiss of agreement as her body jerked, his
erotic words pushing her over the top. The coil that had been winding so
tightly in her lower abdomen sprung apart, releasing frantic wings of sensation
to beat against the cage of her skin.

Suddenly Wyc removed his hand, and in the next instant,
lodged his cock inside her, deep and filling. She cried out and clutched at
him. Her hands caught his hips, her fingernails digging tiny half moons into
his skin. Her cunt bore down on his thick erection as another contraction took
her.