Midnight (McKenna Chronicles Book 1) (22 page)

Without
warning he pushes me to the bed, but doesn’t come with me. His breath falters
as he gazes. Slow and deliberate, his inspection is thorough, voice rough with
desire. “God, I want you. Just the thought of you gets me hard.”

I
can’t help but stare at his pulsing erection. His hand follows my eyes,
stroking over the hard length. “Seeing you naked in my bed, wanting me as much
as I want you, is almost too much,” he whispers and his eyes change, the
passionate, dark need is replaced with veneration, a worshiping glint as he
drinks me in.

"Charlie,"
he breathes into the silence, my name a prayer on his lips. Slowly he lies with
me, bringing a hand up to cup the full weight of my breast, caressing it
reverentially. Closing his eyes, he leans in so his mouth hovers over mine, not
touching, just taking. Breathing deeply again and again, absorbing every
particle of my being. It’s so intimate, I long to lift my head and kiss him.

“Colin,”
I whisper and the word breaks the spell.

When
his eyes open, a devilish gleam replaces the adoration, his fingers pinching my
nipple, pulling, rolling over and over again. I moan as the sweet sensation
drives straight down to my groin, a sharp inescapable fluttering. He smiles, a
slow, beguiling grin as I writhe beneath his dark stare and the attention of
his fingers.

“I’m
going to taste you, baby. Lick and bite you until you scream my name.”

My
mouth forms a perfect
O
but I say nothing, paralyzed with anticipation.
I watch as he dips down, taking me into his mouth, laving the elongated tip of
my breast with his tongue before teasing it between his teeth. I lean back into
the bed, reeling from the pleasure his mouth brings. One after the other he
plays with my nipples until I’m thoroughly aroused, wet and hungry for him.

“Please,
oh please,” I beg for I-don’t-know-what. For him to continue, for him to touch
me, for him to bring an end to the burning need building between my thighs.
Slowly he moves, his nose trailing lightly along my skin, teasing a path until
he presses into my pubic hair, groaning as he breathes deeply. Eyes trained on
mine, he pushes my thighs apart. 

“You’re
intoxicating.” His voice is hot, his breath hotter as he blows against me.
Looking up through his lashes, he asks darkly, “Do you want this, baby? Tell me
you need this as much as I do.” I can’t form a response, held in a trance by
his impish charm. He blows against me again. “Say it; I need to hear you.”

“Yes,”
I barely breathe out before his head dips, the tip of his tongue swirling
around my clitoris languidly. My body immediately arches off of the bed at the
sweet, carnal sensation and I moan loudly. Closing my eyes, I focus on him, on
his mouth and the tormenting flicks of his tongue.

Wrapping
his arms under my hips he becomes impassioned, groaning as he lifts me to his
mouth, holding me prisoner. I can’t move, my only outlet the incoherent words
falling almost soundlessly into the still air. Clenching my hands into the
sheets I surrender to the beautiful intensity, panting, my breath folding in on
me in waves.

“Colin,”
I moan. His lips close around my clitoris in response, sucking and rolling it
between his teeth. I arch and instinctively move with him, a wicked, slow
dance. The music is his mouth, playing artfully and all I can do is wait,
longing for the crescendo. Releasing my death-grip on the sheets, I grab the
soft silk of his hair as his head sways gently between my thighs. He looks up,
eyes scorching and erotic, his mouth, his tongue insistent and hot, teasing but
not taking me over the edge.

“Please,”
I whisper, begging for the push from the burning plateau.

His
answer is to slide a finger inside my welcoming body. I groan again. The
longing and desire build, the friction of his finger along with his mouth take
me higher, faster than I thought possible. I writhe against him, the dance
becoming feverish. I need; I want.

“Don’t
stop.” Fingers plunge deeply once, twice, his tongue flicking and rolling over
and over again, and he launches me beyond the brink. I explode, screaming out
in awe as the crescendo hits violently. Waves of pleasure crash through my
entire body and I bow into him once more. His mouth and finger continue moving
on me, in me, pushing my orgasm on and on.

When
I can stand it no more, I tug his hair tightly, pulling him up to me. Diving
into his mouth, I taste myself on his tongue, relishing the feel of his lips
stroking over mine. Without thought, I grab his bottom lip between my teeth,
sucking on it, mimicking what he just did to me. Drinking in his low moan I
spur him on for more.

“What
do you want, baby?”

“I
want you.”

“What
do you need?” he taunts me again.

“You,
always you—now,” I say pulling him to me.

In
one swift move he enters me and I cry out as my body acclimates to the glorious
invasion. Before I can form a coherent thought Colin rolls so I’m on top,
straddling his hips. His erection reaches inside of me in a new way, a full tormenting
stretch. We groan together when I rotate my hips, deepening the penetration.
Our eyes lock, the intensity staggering.

Leaning
down, I place my hands on either side of his face, cradling him tenderly. My
mouth hovers over his, not touching, just taking. Taking him into me every way
I know how. His breath, his body, we become one, and I begin to make love with
Colin McKenna, sweet, beautiful, passionate love. I feel it all. I feel all of
him. My hips move, rounding gently at first, pulling him in and out at a
taunting, tortuous pace. Our breath mingles together, held tight against us as
our bodies join, again and again, over and over.

In
time I push up, sitting on him fully so he sinks in further, a new humbling
depth that has us both groaning again in unison. Our rhythm changes, needing,
wanting, an inexplicable desire to come together we move passionately. The joy
in this moment, in us, is achingly sweet.

“Colin,”
I whisper as our eyes meet, his deep with an unnamed passion, mine bewildered
by the staggering emotion I feel toward this man. This man, who has unleashed
years of unknown, pent up desire. My thoughts scatter, frayed with unbridled
tension and I dissolve around him, mind and body surrendering to the mystifying
connection.

I
cry out as his hips push me higher, rocketing with him, trusting in wherever he
takes me and I come. I erupt around him, vaguely hearing his cry as he joins
me. We are one; we are us.

My
breath shattered, I fall, splayed out on his chest. His hands wrap into my
hair, holding me tightly as our bodies calm. Eventually he pulls my lips to
his, kissing me sweetly, gently. We breathe into each other, sated.  

~

I
don’t know how long we lie wrapped together. My limbs are like jelly, incapable
of holding myself upright, so I stay snuggled into his side. Colin’s hand is
rubbing my back lazily, his fingers soft on my bare skin. Finally I look up at
his face, gauging his reaction to make sure I don’t lose him to dark thoughts
like I did the first time. His eyes are closed and he looks relaxed. His cheeks
are soft, his jaw isn't clenched as it sometimes does when he’s tense. Sensing
my gaze he opens one eye, smiles, and opens the other to fully look at me.
Before I can say anything he grips under my arms to pull my face in front of his,
bringing his lips to mine in a tender kiss.

I
lean back to look at him and slip my hand through the wayward curls disheveled
from my passionate grip. Brushing my mouth against his, once and then again, I
snuggle back into his arms, but I’m not cocooned in his warmth for long. He
slides out from beneath me to lean on his elbow, looking down into my eyes as I
lay flat on my back. I immediately cover my breasts for modesty's sake, but he
stops my hands in midair.

“I
want to look at you,” he says with a hint of humor in his voice. Slowly his
gaze roams over every curve, reveling in every inch of my body. “You’re so
beautiful, a work of art created just for me.” Sliding the backs of his fingers
from my temple to chin, he trails a blazing path down my neck, following the
contour of my firm breast, circling my nipple lazily. It grows taut, elongating
at his now familiar touch. My breathing spikes. His eyes seek mine, watching my
reaction when he pinches it.

Shaking
my head, I groan low in my throat. “You’re driving me crazy.” I mean it, too,
my body growing with desire at his stimulation.

Colin
chuckles, a sexy throaty sound. “Don’t move,” he demands, a lopsided grin
plastered on his face as his fingers continue to torture.

He
moves lower to cup the fullness of my breast, weighing it in his hand. “So
soft, so perfect,” he whispers while squeezing and kneading.

Moving
to my stomach, he draws a circular path around the plains of my abdomen,
getting lost in his own thoughts. His eyes grow distant, fingers coming to a
sudden halt.

I
don’t want to lose him, so I grab his chin forcing his gaze to meet mine.
“Hey,” I say simply, imploring him to talk to me. “Don’t go anywhere. I want
you to stay with me.” I don’t want someone else in bed with us. For the
briefest moment his eyes widen. There's vulnerability within them and then he's
gone. He becomes blank, shutting down and shutting me out.  

I
sense his internal struggle against falling back into his comfortable pain.
Clenching his jaw, he rolls onto his back and breaks all contact with me. His
eyes close tightly as if he can ward off the pain, block it from consuming him.
My heart lurches in my chest; I know his pattern now. As soon as he lets go,
gets close to me, he withdraws or tries to push me away.

I’m
not going to let that happen so I follow, scrambling onto my knees beside him.
Grabbing his chin, I firmly say, “Colin, look at me.” He doesn’t move, his
chest moving up and down evenly. He lifts his hands to press the palms against
his eyes, long fingers covering his forehead, reaching into his tousled hair.
“Talk to me.”

It’s
heartbreaking to see such a strong, passionate man splintered in this way;
unable or unwilling to move beyond the misery he’s convinced he should live
with. After a moment of silence I lose my patience. “You are an obstinate,
confusing man!” I say with conviction. I think his lip lifts a little in smile,
but I can’t be sure.

“I’m
going to be honest with you, and if you get mad so be it. I’d rather fight for
you than let you slip away with a ghost.” He remains still except for the
movement of his cheeks when he clenches his jaw. “Abby is gone.” Her name
stings my tongue. “Her death was tragic; I can’t imagine the pain you endured.
She died five years ago, Colin; you were thirty-one years old. I can only
presume to know the love she had for you, and with that, Abby would not have
wanted you to suffer her death your whole life. You loved her; it's okay to let
her go.” I end on a whisper, waiting for his reply.

His
brooding silence slices my heart with each passing minute. Getting frustrated,
I pull against one of his hands and he allows me to move it easily, lifting his
other so his wary eyes can open. I wait for him to say something, kneeling
naked by his side, grasping the hand I pulled away from his face.

“It’s
much easier not to feel anything, Charlie,” he says finally, his voice laced
with sadness, “rather than put trust in myself again.” His jaw clenches as he
contemplates his thoughts. “It’s hard for me to let go of what happened, forget
the past and trust what I feel when I’m with you. I can’t relive the pain I
experienced; it almost broke me.” Sorrow is engraved deeply in his low tone.
Oh,
Colin
. . . my heart aches for him at the pain he so deeply feels. On a
sigh, he says, “When I’m with you, Charlie, I forget about everything. I forget
about Abby and what happened. I feel alive again.” His eyes find mine,
pleading, desperate almost. I wish I knew how to help him.

“I’m
not Abby.” My voice waivers when I say it. “What happened to her isn’t going to
happen with me.” Longing to touch him, I bring a hand to his face, gently
stroking it down his cheek, running my thumb along his full bottom lip. His
eyes don’t leave mine, their blue depths muddled with evasive emotion: aguish,
loneliness, fear?

“You
deserve to be happy, Colin.”

His
eyes close tight as he winces. “I need to learn how to count on someone again;
I haven’t allowed myself the opportunity to get close to anyone in a very long
time. It’s not something I ever thought I would willingly do. It’s easier not
to feel than to risk feeling pain at the level to which I was injured with
Abby.”

Our
eyes reconnect as I whisper, “I’m not the same woman you fell in love with ten
years ago. My future is not tied to Abby, just as my past is different from
hers. Maybe it’s time to take a leap of faith. Believe in me.” I hear my own
level of desperation. For an inexplicable reason I need him to believe in me,
find trust in me.

He
remains silent, considering my words for a long moment. “Remember what you said
to me?” I have his attention now; his brow furrows in question. “You told me
you could offer me one moment, one day at a time. Well, I want tonight. Will
you give me tonight, Colin? All night?”

He
sits up unexpectedly so his face is even with mine, his chest an inch from my
breasts. Wrapping his hands into my hair he holds my face gently, his thumbs
rubbing over my bottom lip. Our eyes remain connected as he answers me with a
sweet tender kiss. Closing my eyes, I fall into him, parting my lips to accept
his tongue gently sweeping against mine in an artful sparring match. Colin
falls back to the bed, taking me with him, covering his body with mine in a
blanket of heat.

~

Slowly
consciousness invades and brings the morning with it. I hear Colin’s slow
breathing. His warm body is pressed tightly to my side, his head resting on the
pillow but it’s tucked into the crook of my neck, as if he fell asleep kissing
me. The blanket is pushed below my waist, his heavy arm lying across my
stomach. With his close proximity I don’t feel chilled; he’s a fire lapping
flames over my skin. Closing my eyes, thoughts of the night flood in and my own
flames quickly burn my cheeks when I remember his mouth tasting, his hands
caressing, taking and giving everything and more than I ever thought possible.