Page 69 of Marked By Moonlight

Claire lifted her trembling arm and pointed the barrel to her temple, the kiss of the gun cold on her skin. The gun wobbled so much she brought her other hand up to grasp her wrist to still the shaking. Jamming her eyes shut, her finger started to squeeze.

“You’re going to make a horrible mess in my kitchen.”

Claire gasped and spun around.

There was a flash of movement as Gideon knocked the gun from her hand. It clattered to the floor several feet away.

She looked from the gun to Gideon, fury choking her. Yet a small thread of relief niggled beneath the fury.

His eyes glittered in the darkened kitchen, his tall, athletic figure limned in moonlight spilling through the kitchen window above the sink. “Never took you for the cowardly type.”

With a ragged cry, she flung herself against him, beating his chest, arms, face, anything her fists made contact with, for once indifferent to his bare skin and loose pajama bottoms that revealed too much for her senses.

He had no idea how much strength it took for her to lift that gun to her head. No idea how much she wanted to live. Especially since she had never truly lived before he came along. It took every ounce of courage she had to lift the gun, every drop of love in her heart.

“Damn you,” she hissed, hot tears pricking her eyes.

He grappled for her flailing hands. Giving up, he folded her into his arms and jerked her against him, chest to heaving chest. She struggled until they fell to the kitchen floor.

“Why are you doing this?” she sobbed, the linoleum cold and unforgiving beneath her back. “If you can’t do it, just let—”

He silenced her with a hard kiss.

She surrendered, helpless to her desire, to the need he roused within her. Her arms snaked around his neck, his skin warm and supple beneath her arms. He ravaged her mouth, never breaking the kiss as he swung her into his arms and carried her up the stairs.

He followed her onto his bed, covering her with his hard body, sinking into her softness as his mouth devoured hers. His hands moved over her, swift and feverish, breaking their kiss for only a moment to yank her T-shirt up and over her head.

Then his hands were everywhere. Her breasts, her hips, seizing her panty-clad bottom in his hands to pull her against him and grind his erection against her crotch.

She shoved him back, forcing him on his back. Hungry, starved for the taste of him, she slid his pajama bottoms off and straddled his thighs. Never taking her eyes off him, she dipped her head and closed her lips around his thick shaft. Tongue swirling around the plump head of him, she sucked, her hand squeezing gently at the base of him, delighting as he surged off the bed, thrusting himself deeper into her mouth.

Groaning, his hands fisted in her hair as he worked his hips. She sucked harder, working her tongue over the delicious length of him, salty and warm.

With a growl, he wrenched away from her and tossed her on her back, his mouth claiming hers again as he tore her panties in one savage jerk.

He impaled her in one hard thrust. She screamed at the engorged heat of him filling her. She grabbed a fistful of his hair, tugging his head back so that she could kiss his arched neck, licking and nipping at the tendons stretched taut along his throat.

He groaned, a deep animal sound of need. Pulling back, hedrove into her again, the force sinking her deep into the mattress. He grabbed her hands and placed them on his warm chest. His heart thumped beneath her palm, a distant drum that echoed the pounding of her own pulse. Those green eyes glowed with an intensity that stole her breath.

His lips took hers again. His hands carried their own special heat, branding her, singeing her cheeks where he held her face and better angled her mouth for his questing tongue.

Her flesh rippled with heightened sensation as he dragged himself in and out of her. Waves of searing heat flowed through her body like rolling lava. Her hands fell limply beside her head and she whimpered, beyond pleasure, beyond pain. He grabbed hold of one leg, his hand a searing brand behind her knee as he stretched her leg back, angling her for deeper penetration. Her head flew off the pillow, a shuddering cry rising from deep in her chest.

She groaned, her skin burning, the ache in her belly twisting tighter. Each thrust left her writhing beneath him. Her hands grabbed his shoulders, his back, his buttocks. She moved wildly, searching, aching for the building climax.

He grabbed her hands, trapping them on the pillow on either side of her head. His fingers laced through hers. Palm to palm, their eyes locked, his eyes gleaming down at her knowingly.

His thrusts grew harder. Faster. Intense. She tilted her hips, shifting beneath him, trying to get closer, trying to take more. He wrapped an arm around her waist. In one fluid motion he flipped her so she sat on top.

“Go on,” he commanded, fingers digging into her hips, urging her to move. “Ride me.”

She didn’t wait for another invitation. Instinct took over and she rode him hard, hands pressed against his chest for leverage. Whimpering, she dropped her head and worked her hips furiously, laboring until a fine sheen of perspiration coated her body. Herhips never ceased their frenzied dance. She took him in and out of her body in hard, rapid-fire pumps. The pressure increased, building. He swiped the hair from her face and dragged her mouth down to his for a bruising kiss.

Every muscle in her body suddenly tightened and contracted. She tore her mouth away and cried out as shudders racked her, took her soaring over that final precipice. Arched over him, she stilled, her hands slippery where they clutched his chest.

His hands circled her waist and he bucked beneath her, thrusting several more times. His groan rumbled through him into her. Panting, she collapsed against his chest, never happier than at that moment to be alive.

They spent the day making love, napping, and making love some more. No mention of the future. No mention of the time remaining, of the six days left to them. Night would come soon enough and they would have to rise and confront the world. Regret and recriminations could come later. Right now, Claire in his arms was all that mattered.

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