When Temptation Burns: A Shadow Keepers Novel (Shadow Keepers 6) (31 page)

“Tilt your head back,” he whispered, and when she did, he drew his lips over her neck, delivering soft kisses as his hands slid down to cup her waist. His kisses trailed lower, down her cleavage, over her breasts, and then down and down until he stopped just above the waist of her jeans.

“Andy,” he whispered. Just her name, and then his fingers released the button on her jeans and eased the zipper down. She shifted her hips, feeling greedy, but not willing to back off from what she wanted—his touch. He slid his hand down and cupped her through the silk of her panties, and it was as if gravity had ceased to
apply to her and she was floating on a current of pleasure.

She let the pleasure take her, but soon it wasn’t enough. She wanted to see him, and so she opened her eyes and saw him smiling down at her, his eyes crinkling at the corners. Eyes that seemed capable of seeing all the way through her, to what she wanted and what she needed.

Slowly, his hands slid under the waist of her jeans. “Lift your hips,” he said, and as she complied, he slid her jeans down and off. Her feet were bare, so there was no awkward tangle of clothes and shoes. She took his hand and tugged him back to her.

“What do you want?”

“You,” she said without hesitation. “Duh.”

He laughed, then raised himself up for long enough to kiss her, deeply and boldly. Then he trailed a line of kisses from her breasts down her stomach, his tongue laving her navel as he eased lower and lower, his thumbs stroking the inside of her thighs as he gently eased her legs apart.

She closed her eyes, his hot breath making her almost as crazy as the feel of his beard stubble on the soft skin of her thighs. He pressed the pads of his thumbs lightly into her inner thighs, and she squirmed with delighted anticipation. A moment later, he tugged her panties down and started kissing her intimately, his tongue laving her, making her body quiver and her breath come in slow, shallow gasps.

She reached down, her fingers lost in his hair, and the pleasure built and built until, just as she was afraid she couldn’t stand it any longer, she shattered, crying out with intense, mind-blowing pleasure that sent earthquake-like tremors through her body.

When they slowed—when she could think and be human again—she pulled him up, gentle, but demanding. “More,” she said, because despite the satisfaction she felt, she hadn’t yet felt
him
, and she wanted to.
Needed
to. “Doyle, please.”

His smile was pure guy. “If you insist.”

He stripped out of his jeans, and she couldn’t help but admire the lean lines of his legs, and his tight, sexy butt. It was the kind of butt that looked better out of jeans than in them, and it gave her a secret thrill to know just how amazing the total package was. He grinned at her. “What are you thinking?”

“About your ass.”

“Really. What a coincidence. I’m thinking about yours.”

She hooked her arms around his neck, pulled herself up, and kissed him. “No more talking.”

He opened his mouth to reply, but she pressed a firm finger over it. “No. More. Talking.”

He got the message and proceeded to show her just how much he could communicate without saying a single word. His hands stroking against her skin said he thought she was beautiful. His tongue tracing around her ear, that she was delicious. And his cock, hard and ready and demanding, that he wanted her. That she was his. And as he thrust inside of her—sliding in easily because she was so damn wet—her body agreed with him and answered back. He was hers, too.

They moved in a rhythm, their passion growing, their bodies slick with sweat. She never wanted this to end, and yet she knew that she couldn’t stand it if it lasted much longer. She’d burn out, go supernova.

And then, that’s exactly what she did. Her body erupting into flashes of fire and color, her fingers digging into
his back, the thrill of the moment growing when he reached his own climax and clung just as tightly to her.

The moment passed too quickly, even though it felt like it went on for an eternity. She fell back against the couch cushions, feeling warm and relaxed, not wanting this to end. Wanting more—wanting that sweet sensation of twining with him again. And she boldly twisted, easing around so that she was the one straddling him.

“Kiss me,” she whispered. “Taste me. Take me.”

His eyes widened just enough to let her know that he understood her request.

“Doyle, please, just—”

And then his mouth was on hers, and she felt it—that sweet tug, that sensual pull. Like sex, but not. A joining. A twining and twisting. Her energy, her essence,
her soul
.

For a moment, the thought hung there, drenched in pleasure.

But then she cracked, a finger of fear trickling down her back, and she broke away, ashamed.

“I’m sorry—I’m sorry—I didn’t think I was … I thought … Oh, God, Doyle. It does scare me.”

But he wasn’t listening. He’d turned away from her. He was sitting up, as if he was about to stand. As if he was about to leave.

She tugged his hand. “Doyle?”

“Don’t worry,” he said, and when he turned to face her, she saw that his eyes were filled with pain. “I’m leaving.”

“Leaving?”
She echoed his words back to him as she clutched his hand. “You’re
leaving
?” she repeated as she grabbed the afghan off the couch and stood, wrapping it around herself. “What the hell happened to talking?”

“You’re human,” he said. “I’m not.”

She stared at him. “And?”

His face seemed colored by regret and sadness. “And I should go.”

“Wait,” she said, as understanding grew. “Is this about her? Is this about Kathryn?”

“Kathryn.”

Her name seemed to hang on Andy’s lips. He wanted to lie, but he couldn’t. Not to her. “Yes,” he said.

“Then you damn well better stay,” she said. “If you’re going to leave because some other woman with eyes like mine was too stupid to see what she had in you, then you’d better stay and talk to me about it.”

He ought to just leave. Ought to simply walk past her and not look back. It would be simpler that way.

He couldn’t do it. “She saw what I really was. Saw it, and couldn’t bear it.” He looked at her. “Kathryn chose death over me.”

“And she was a fool.”

He swallowed. If only that were true. “I’m not saying you would choose the same. You’re stronger than Kathryn ever was.” It was, he realized, that core of strength in Andy that attracted him the most. And why her fear of him had twisted like a knife. “You’re strong and you’re brave,” he repeated, “but in the end you’re both afraid of the same thing.”

“No.” She spoke the word firmly and shook her head. “No, she was afraid of
you
. I was afraid of losing a part of me.” She took his hand. “Dammit, but you’re being thick. There is nothing—
nothing
—about you that scares me. But my soul—that’s heady stuff. And I believe it,”
she added, squeezing his fingers and looking deep into his eyes. “I believe everything Lissa said about it not hurting me, about how it would make my soul grow and flourish. I really do believe it all in theory.”

Her throat moved as she swallowed. “In practice, though, it’s going to take me some time. I’ve grown up in my father’s church. I’ve grown up believing a soul is a thing to be protected. That it’s easily stained. ‘Now I lay me down to sleep.’ ”

“ ‘I pray the Lord my soul to keep,’ ” he finished. “Yes. I understand.”

She closed her eyes in obvious relief, then clung to him. “I just need some time to get used to it. But I think—I think I
want
to get used to it. I got a taste of what it felt like, sharing that with you, and it felt sensual and erotic and sweet and wonderful.”

She brushed a kiss over his lips. “Hell, Doyle, we’re new to each other. But you have to believe me when I say I want to see where this leads.” She pressed her lips together and offered him a small smile. “I’ve never felt this way about another man. I feel like we’re connected, even without that whole soul-sharing thing. I look at you and I just get lost in you.”

“I feel the same way,” he admitted.

“I’m glad.”

He put an arm around her and drew her close, then buried his face in her hair, the relief—no, the
joy
—that she still wanted him filling him like light. He didn’t know what he’d done to deserve her—no, he knew that he’d done nothing to deserve her—but by God he was going to cling tightly to her now that he had her.

“Maybe that was all Kathryn needed,” she said, her breath warm against his chest.

“What do you mean?”

“You said she chose death. But maybe if she hadn’t been so rash—if she’d just given it time …”

The thought sat heavily with him, and he closed his eyes, remembering Kathryn’s foolhardy leap through the window. “We’ll never know,” he said.

“I’m sorry, though. It must have hurt to lose her.”

“It did,” he said. “But it was a long time ago.”
And now I’ve found you
.

He pulled her close, caressing her skin, telling her with every touch how much he craved her. How glad he was that she wasn’t running. That she was there in his arms, and that her lips were turned up to his, just begging to be kissed.

How could he deny that? He lost himself in her kiss, in her touch. In the feeling of her body pressed against his. With a moan, he pushed her blanket away, then stroked her, touching and exploring until he wasn’t sure where he ended and where Andy began.

Then she was on top of him, her hands pressed against his chest, the ends of her hair brushing his face. She danced kisses across his skin, then captured his mouth with a passionate demand. The kiss, long and deep, shot through him like lava, ratcheting up his need, making him crave more than kisses. He wanted to be with her, part of her, he wanted to get lost inside of her.

She looked at his face and gave him a slow smile. “Yes,” she whispered, as if she knew exactly what he was thinking. Then she shifted and kissed him down, down, down, and he realized that she damn well did know. He closed his eyes and let her take him, groaning when her kisses turned into small bites, and when her
hand encircled his cock, making him come close to exploding with her long, even strokes.

And then, when he didn’t think he could take it any more without his sanity spilling out of his ears, she shifted again, straddled him, and lowered herself slowly—
oh, God, so slowly
—onto him. She moved in a mind-blowing rhythm, and when he opened his eyes to look at her, it was only Andy he saw—the ghosts of his past had finally been banished. As if reading his mind, she smiled at him, her movements taking him up and up and up, their bodies a perfect union until the explosion came, and he trembled beneath her and she melted back into his arms, her chest rising and falling as he held her, stroked her, loved her.

They lay together, his arms tight around her, until the shrill ring of his phone broke the silence. He cursed, and she laughed, then rolled off of him. She rummaged through the clothes on the floor, found the phone, and glanced at the readout.

“Paul,” she said, and passed it to him.

Doyle took it, wishing the world couldn’t interrupt what he and Andy were sharing, but knowing that it was inevitable. “Paul,” he said. “What’s up?”

“We’re going on a little mission before sunrise. I was hoping you could join us.”

He got the details, then hung up the phone and looked silently at Andy.

“A mission?”

“Apparently so.”

“I’m terrified he’s going to find out about you. Doyle, if he does—”

“There’s no reason he would.”

She nodded, her smile tremulous. “I know. But I can’t
help it, I—I just can’t help it.” She reached up and unfastened her necklace. “Would you wear this? The chain’s long enough—no one will see it under your shirt. And I … well, I know it’s silly but I want you to have it. To keep you safe.”

He couldn’t speak as he held out his hand for the necklace. She was giving him her mother’s—and her God’s—protection. He already knew that she didn’t think of him as evil—that to her, he was just Doyle, and he was a good man. He knew that … but this gesture cemented it, and he found himself blinking to clear his moist eyes.

“I’ll wear it,” he said. “And I promise I’ll come back to you.”