Snow Angels (7 page)

So when their plate was empty, he set it on the floor. Both Biby and Bo went for it. But Wade ignored them. He wrapped his arms around Lyssa and pulled her more fully onto his lap, and kissed her.

The kiss started soft and gentle, but it wasn’t long before hunger rose in both of them. He loved her responses, soft sighs, gentle nips, and tentative caresses. As she became bolder, so did he.

He eased a palm up her thigh, over her belly, and then cupped her breast. Ah. How magnificent. That tantalizing curve, the pert, pouting nipple. When he raked her with a thumb, she whimpered.

So he did it again.

He left her mouth, made his way over her cheek to nibble on her earlobe, and then dipped in to nuzzle her neck. She smelled fantastic there. He wasn’t sure what it was, the scent. It was probably just
her
. But it lit a fire in his gut.

His fingers tightened on her nipple. It was probably a purely reflex action, a response to the sheer delight curling through him, but the result was delicious. She arched and moaned and rubbed against him.

“God, I want you, Lyssa,” he murmured.

“Mmm.”

Was that consent? He was certain it was.

He shifted and eased her back onto the sofa, not breaking contact with an inch of her. Then he covered her.

The sofa was too short. He’d have to talk to Val about that—later. For now, he didn’t care. He arranged himself on it, over her, as best he could. Even then, he had to brace himself with one knee on the floor.

But his hands were free. As he kissed her, he caressed and explored.

Because he couldn’t resist, he nibbled his way over her collarbone to her chest. Then, catching her gaze, he lifted her cami and—

Holy God.

Her breasts were perfect. Small, but full. Round and firm. The engorged nipples, pink and pert, snared his attention. He swallowed the drool collecting in his mouth and cupped her, one mound in each hand.

She watched, eyes glittering and lips parted.

He squeezed, gently, and then massaged the tips in tandem. Her breath caught. Damn, she was a tantalizing sight. Unable to resist any longer, he tasted her. His tongue rasped over one beaded nipple. Then the other. He held her still as he lapped and sucked and nibbled.

When he caught her between his teeth, she cried out and writhed beneath him, her thigh massaged his aching cock. Was she aware her thigh was massaging his cock?

Shit, he didn’t care. It felt fantastic. He nudged against her and rubbed harder. There was nothing between them but a pair of sweats and Yoga pants. Yet it was too much. Far too much between them.

With a growl, he yanked down the elastic band of her pants. Tore them off and tossed them away. She helped, in a fashion, wriggling madly to be free of the restriction. He could have done without her help, but he managed and—

His heart stalled at the vision before him.

Lyssa, her hair wild and rumpled, lounging on the sofa with her shirt bunched above her breasts and her lower body bare. His attention fixed on her nest, and even as he watched, she parted her legs.

His pulse jack-hammered. His cock thrummed. Lust howled through him like a hot and hungry wind.

He yanked her knees further apart—there was no time for persuasion, no capacity for civility—and buried his face. He’d tasted her before, but this was better. This felt like coming home.

Reveling in her moans and coos, he explored her, licking her outer lips slowly, nudging the swollen nub at the crux of her sex, circling it, and lapping it, teasing.

“Wade!” A command. She fisted his hair, scored his scalp with her nails in her determination to control his seduction.

He didn’t allow it.

He worked her mercilessly, toying with her clit, nudging at her opening with two fingers, until she was a wild woman, thrashing and snarling and begging. And then he drew her between his lips. She stilled and stared down at him. Trembling.

He sucked.

And at that exact moment, he thrust his fingers inside. Filling her.

She came with a violence that stunned him, her body clenching around him with an intensity that made the little hairs at his nape stand on end.

Holy God. He nearly came himself.

But he didn’t.

Because he wanted to come inside her. Lose himself in the insanity of that wicked grip.

He couldn’t wait. It had been too long. And he wanted her too much. Ached too deeply.

Later, he couldn’t recall ripping off his pants and kicking them away. But he did remember, he would always remember, the first kiss of her cunt. He fisted his cock and set the tip against her opening.

Hell. Hell. Hell
.

He gritted his teeth and bit his tongue as a reminder to take it slow.

She was tiny. He was huge.

Or at least, he looked huge, poised there, ready to sink into heaven.

“Wade.” She wiggled impatiently. The slick, tight muscles of her channel sipped at his sensitive glans. A red tide descended over his sanity as need possessed him.

“God. Lyssa,” he groaned. And he lunged in.

Forgotten was his vow to be careful. Forgotten was his concern at her fragility.

All he knew, all he felt, all he was—pleasure. Bone-deep, soul satisfying, heart-mending pleasure.

She was tight, slick, and warm. She quivered around him and hummed like a bow string drawn tight. It was exquisite. It was divine.

It was torture.

He clenched his balls to keep from releasing with the first stroke. He wanted this to last. He wanted this to last forever.

Slowly he withdrew, gazing into her eyes.

Her lips parted. A breath escaped.

“Are you okay?” he asked, grunted, hissed. It was all he could do to form the words.

His universe was shrinking, imploding, and becoming nothing more than this moment, on this sofa with this woman. In this woman. He wanted, needed, nothing more.

“Yes. Oh yes. Please.” She tried to stop his retreat, clenching around him, closing in as though she could not bear to lose the delicious contact.

But he wasn’t going anywhere.

Before he fell free, he reversed direction and sank into her again. Slowly. Carefully. It nearly killed him.

“Yes!” she huffed, sinking her nails into the fleshy globes of his ass.

She probably was not aware how tightly she was gripping his ass. He didn’t care. Didn’t care about anything. Not his scars, not the past, not the future. Buried deep within her, he dipped his head and suckled her breasts again. Excruciating ripples massaged his cock. He loved her reaction, so he did it again.

He could have done that all day, enjoying the fiendish pleasure, but a stronger urge rode him.

The irresistible urge to fuck. To fuck her.

Hard and hot and fast.

Slowly he eased out again, shivering at her resistance. And then he plunged deep. And again. And again. Picking up the pace, going faster, wilder, and deeper with each manic thrust. Her body tightened, quivered, peaked. He knew when she came. Knew the look, the feel, the tenor of her cries. But he didn’t stop. He drove her higher and higher still. Ruthlessly, he pummeled her with pleasure.

But he tormented himself as well. He wanted to come. Wanted it more than anything he had ever wanted. Wanted to empty in her. Fill her. Give her his all.

It was too good to let it end.

He fought. Fought against himself. Denied his release. Reveled in the burning agony of want.

His cock swelled. His balls tightened into hard little nuts. Anticipation sent shivery prickles down his spine. His thrusts became shorter. Deeper. Desperate.

Beneath him she wept. Wailed. Voraciously kissed and nibbled his neck as he worked within her.

And then she did something that unmanned him. Her fluttering fingers traced the crack of his ass and dipped in.

Holy. God. Her finger in his ass.

Frissons of bliss snarled through him in a swell of sensation so powerful, he lost all control. He felt as though his soul separated from his body at that moment, soaring free and flying high. Entangled with hers.

An unstoppable wave erupted from him. Not just his seething cum flooding her welcoming body. Everything. Everything he ever was and always would be, he gave up.

To her.

And she took it. Took it all.

Breathless and bare, shuddering with a rapturous delight of her own, she took it. Took him.

It wasn’t until much later—when they lay, wrapped around each other, cocooned together on the sofa, watching the fire and slowly returning to sanity—that the sickening realization hit him.

He’d forgotten protection.

And he hadn’t thought of Sam all morning.

Something had shifted. Lyssa wasn’t sure what it was, but she knew the second things changed. Perhaps it was the infinitesimal tightening of Wade’s muscles, or perhaps it was the shimmy of energy surrounding him. But it was clear to her, something was wrong.

Her heart dipped a little. What they’d shared—this morning in bed and again on the couch—had been transformative for her. Because of her gift, she’d never really been able to relax and
be
with a man. Something—her partner’s shifting aura, his errant thoughts, wandering dead relatives—had always interrupted her pleasure. But with Wade, it wasn’t like that. When she was with him, when he held her, and when they kissed, everything else faded. All the voices, all the swirly colors, all the distracting energy.

It was as though they were in a bubble together, protected and shielded from the psychic plane. It was like a vacation from her gift, and it was delicious.

But now the clamor had returned.

She glanced up at his face—what a beautiful face. She loved it all. Even the scars. He did not meet her gaze. A muscle ticked in his cheek, confirming what her senses told her. Something was wrong.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He flinched and met her eyes then. She did not like the shadows she saw.

“We shouldn’t have done that.”

A lance to the heart. It took everything in her to keep her expression bland. “No?”

He raked his fingers through his hair. “Goddamn it, Lyssa. I fucking forgot to use a condom.”

She knew that was not all of it, but decided to pretend it was. She cuddled closer and patted his chest. “Don’t worry. I’m on the pill.”

“I’m glad.” He didn’t sound glad. “But an unwanted pregnancy is only one reason to use protection.”

Her heart stilled. “Is there…is there something you want to tell me?”

He blinked. “Me?” She nearly laughed at the offense flaring in his eyes. “No. I get full medical work ups every three months. I’m clean.”

She sniffed. “Well, I’m clean too.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Again, he didn’t sound glad.

“Good.”

“Fine.”

He went back to staring at the fire, and she went back to staring at him. They sat like that until Biby jumped onto her lap, and then Bo hopped up next to him and tried to hog the sofa.

Wade didn’t say anything else, but Lyssa knew something dark was nagging him.

And she knew what it was. And she knew, if she brought it up, the moment would be shattered.

So she didn’t.

Cowardly of her, yes. But her time with Wade would be short. She only had him for a while. And she didn’t want to ruin it by bringing up another woman. A woman he still loved.

Even though she was dead.

But as the day wore on, and he continued to retreat, she knew she had to say something.

That, and Sam kept nagging her.

Though she knew it was weakness on her part, she put it off, vowing to search for the right time. They spent a lazy morning reading and chatting about nothing and playing cards. He tinkered with the generator on the back porch and almost got it to start.

It was pleasant. Even with the growing wall between them.

After lunch they went out to survey the pile of snow blocking his jeep. The day had warmed and the drifts weren’t as daunting as they’d been the day before, but it still took some effort of wade over to the carport.

Bo came with them, bouncing through the snow like a pup. Wade brought out shovels and even though he grumbled about it, he let Lyssa help him dig. Her efforts were puny compared to his, but together, they made some progress.

They worked until she was breathless, and until he winced with every move.

She would have continued, but she knew if she did, he would as well. And it was clear he was in pain—even if he chose to ignore it.

She blew out a sigh. “Phew. I’m tired. Let’s take a break.”

He glanced at her and frowned. “We’re not half done.”

“We can finish later.”

He hefted another heavy shovelful of snow and cringed. Though it was cold, tiny beads of sweat clung to his hairline. “We need to finish today.”

His urgency baffled her. “Why?”

The way he stilled sent a shiver of trepidation through her. He did not meet her eyes. “We need to finish today.” Another shovelful. And then another.

She set her hand on his arm and he flinched, as though her touch burned him. “Why? Why do we need to finish today?”

His expression was bleak. “So you can leave.”

Oh. Oh dear. She shouldn’t feel such utter desolation. Should she?

“You want me to leave?”

“You should leave.”

So soon? She didn’t want to leave so soon. “Why?”

He hesitated. Myriad emotions flitted over his face. Anger. Hope. Hunger. Regret. His aura swirled—a cacophony of color. Then it settled on gray. “We’re out of bacon.”

Lyssa snorted. She knew, he knew, this wasn’t about bacon. “We should talk about it.”

“I don’t want to talk about bacon.”

She crossed her arms and gored him with a dark look. “Neither do I. Let’s talk about
her
.”

His Adam’s apple worked. He jabbed the blade of his shovel into the drift. “Her?”

“She has something to say to you.”

He froze, stock-still. “I don’t want to hear what she has to say.”

“You need to.”

“No!” He dropped the shovel and whirled on her, fire in his eyes, his muscles tight. Fists clenched.