He sidled closer, his larger form dwarfing hers. He laid his lips against her neck, then smiled against her skin at the breathless sound that escaped her. He feathered his lips along her jaw, breathing in that indelible scent that signified Shea. A scent that reminded him of the combination of wildflowers and the chill bite of mountain air.
“We can’t. There are too many people around.” Shea’s voice was filled with regret even as she tilted her head to give him better access.
Her modesty always surprised him, given how little privacy a nomadic life of expeditions offered. The knowledge that she’d preserved this part of herself was another piece of the puzzle that he never got tired of assembling.
“My men can keep the others away from us.”
“And what about them?”
He pulled back, cupping her face in his large palms. “I’m the Warlord. If I tell them not to listen, they won’t.”
Her snort of disbelief might have offended a more sensitive man. He found himself delighted, playful in a way that he had never had the chance to be.
“Fallon.”
Her resolve was weakening; he could sense it. He held himself still, a predator knowing when to wait out his prey. Pressure would make her choose the opposite—just because she could.
“We can be quiet.” His hand found its way under her shirt to rest against her waist, one thumb moving in a gentle caress against her skin. He’d missed the feel of her during this journey and he consoled himself with that single caress.
She sighed. That was all the permission he needed. He swept her into his arms finding a spot on the ground as his lips found hers. Together, they consumed each other—their passion burning through them with a fury fed by their abstinence over the last week. The knowledge they were surrounded by his men and could be interrupted at any moment lent urgency to their movements.
This time he didn’t have the patience for gentle, his hands rough, as they pulled her shirt over her head and bared her to the dim light. It was a shame he couldn’t see her better, only able to see the slight glow of her flesh. Her hands yanked and pulled, urging his tunic over his head.
He ripped her pants off, dropping his lower body between her legs and pressing hard against her, glorying in the pressure, the warmth between her thighs. He hissed as she sank her nails into his back, trying to bring him closer.
Her movements became frantic as he moved one hand between them, his fingers gliding through her folds to dip into her center for one pump, two, before withdrawing to circle that delicate bundle of nerves at the top of her sex.
Her hips tried to follow him as he withdrew, and he chuckled even as he pressed one palm on her belly to keep her still. She made a sound of protest, even as her legs rose and clutched at him, trying to force him back. Her slight frame belied her strength, one that was built over numerous mountains climbed and miles traveled.
Her movements were sinuous and full of power as she tried to take control and flip him onto his back in a move he knew one of his men must have taught her. It was only because of endless hours of practice countering that same move that he managed to quell her attempt at domination.
His chuckle was warm in her ear as he pinched her nipple between his fingers and gently pulled. It was her turn to hiss at the pleasure pain.
He kissed and nipped his way down her body, soothing the sting of his bites with gentle kisses. Reaching the spot at the apex of her thighs, he ran his nose down the side where the thigh joined with her torso and inhaled, glorying in the scent of her arousal. It was a sensitive spot. One he’d found quite by accident and had taken advantage of ever since.
Her gasp drove him on as he tempted and teased, her almost silent cries urging him as he licked and sucked. He thrust one finger into her channel then joined it with another, the strangled gasp she gave letting him know she liked it. Her thighs clenched around his ears even as he gave her no quarter, the muscles tensing and flexing as she tried to resist, to fight her climax as she always did. It was always a battle, one he took pleasure in winning.
Her inner muscles clenched and gripped at his fingers as she neared the point of no return. He was as hard as a rock, her soft gasps acting as an aphrodisiac.
Right as she was poised to hurdle over the cliff, he withdrew. He sat back on his heels and wiped his mouth, looking down at the beautiful mess in front of him. Her chest heaved and eyes he knew were spitting blue fire glared up at him. The fury was almost tangible in the air, feeding his own lust.
He placed his hands on either side of her and leaned forward. His cock hovered at her entrance. He couldn’t help it as it twitched, the randy bastard eager to dive into her warmth. He waited until her breathing had calmed, until she looked at him, until she had opened her mouth to blast him with her sharp tongue. He drove forward, slamming home in one thrust, rejoicing in the sharp cry of need that rose from her.
His control teetered, then fell when her knees rose to clutch at his sides. His rhythm picked up—his muscles tightening and his teeth clenching as he pounded into her.
Her cries rose around them. He snarled, “Mine.”
Her entire body tensed as her womb quivered and then her release was upon her. Her voice raised in a soft wail that he caught with his lips as she bucked against him. His release followed, and he pressed hard into her. He could never get close enough.
He collapsed against her, careful to keep most of his weight off her as they caught their breath. Of all the women he’d lain with, Shea was the one who made him lose control. Who inspired twin feelings of possession and tenderness. Sometimes he felt like he would be torn apart by the conflicting needs each feeling brought.
He pushed a lock of hair out of her face, his elbows and forearms framing her head. Bending, he pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of her mouth.
“So much for ordering them not to listen,” she said. “I think the whole camp couldn’t help but have heard that.”
He felt a spurt of amusement. “Maybe we should try again. Just so you can practice being quiet.”
A fist came up to thump against his side.
“Ouch,” he said covering her fist and pressing it against his skin. He pressed a kiss behind her ear. “That hurts. I think you should make it up to me.”
Already he could feel himself stirring against her. She was a drug he couldn’t get enough of.
“Oh, you do, do you?”
His kisses moved along her jaw in answer. Her legs moved restlessly against his.
“I do,” he said, before his mouth covered hers.
It was a long moment before their lips parted enough for him to say, “Try to be quieter this time.”
There was a long moment, one where her eyes were slightly glazed, before they widened in realization. Then his lips were back again, and he was putting her fury to better use.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
SHEA GUIDED her horse around another pile of rubble, careful not to venture near any of the buildings hovering over them like hulking beasts. Fallon’s army was nearly through the abandoned city. He’d made the choice to have them move out this afternoon when no sign of Clark or Fiona had been uncovered. Several of his men had also disappeared during the search.
Shea had tried arguing. She’d even gone so far as to suggest Eamon, Buck, and a few others remain behind with her to continue the search. Both Fallon and Reece had vetoed that idea. She understood Fallon’s reasoning but couldn’t guess what was in her cousin’s mind.