Page 58 of Charmed
Chapter 10
A whip of panicked excitement cracked through her as he tore her free of the seat belt and yanked her across his lap. His hands bruised, his mouth branded. This was not the Boone who had loved her so gently, taking her to that sweet, sweet fulfillment with patient hands and murmured promises. Her lover of quiet mornings and lazy afternoons had become something darker, something dangerous, something she was helpless to resist.
She could feel the blood sizzling under her skin as he took those rough, impatient hands over her. This was the wildness she had tasted that first time they kissed, in a moonlit garden with the scent of flowers ripe and heady. This bursting of urgent needs was what he had only hinted at under all that patience and steady control.
In mindless acquiescence she strained against him, willing, eager and ready to race along any path he chose.
Her body shuddered once, violently, as he dragged her over a ragged edge. He heard her muffled cry against his greedy mouth, tasted the ripeness of it as her fingers dug desperately into his shoulders. The thought ran crazily through his mind that he could have her here, right here in the car, before reason caught up with either of them.
He tore at her blouse, craving the taste of flesh. The sound of ripping seams was smothered by her quick gasp as he feasted on her throat. Beneath his hungry mouth, her pulse hammered erratically, erotically. The flavor of her was already hot, already honeyed with passion.
On a vicious oath, he shoved the door open, yanking her out. Leaving it swinging, he half carried, half dragged her across the lawn.
“Boone.” Staggered, she tried to gain her feet and lost her shoes. “Boone, the car. You left your keys—”
He caught her hair, pulling her head back. His eyes. Oh, Lord, his eyes, she thought, trembling withsomething much deeper than fear. The heat in them seared through to her soul.
“The hell with the car.” His mouth swooped down, plundered hers until she was dazed and dizzy and fighting to breathe. “Do you know what you do to me?” he said between strangled gasps for air. “Every time I see you.” He pulled her up the steps, touching her, always touching her. “Soft, serene, with something smoldering just behind your eyes.”
He pushed her back against the door, crushing, conquering, those full, luscious lips with his. There was something more in her eyes now. He could see that she was afraid. And that she was aroused. It was as if they both were fully aware that the animal he’d kept ruthlessly on a choke chain for weeks had broken free.
With the breath coming harsh through his lips, he caught her face in his hands. “Tell me. Ana, tell me you want me. Now. My way.”
She was afraid she wouldn’t be able to speak, her throat was so dry and this new need so huge. “I want you.” The husky sound of her voice had the flames in his gut leaping higher. “Now. Any way.”
He hooked his hands in her blouse, watched her eyes go to smoke just before he rent it in two. When he kicked the door open, she staggered back, then was caught up in a torrid embrace. Like her blouse, his control was in shreds. His hands tight at her waist, he lifted her off her feet to take her silk-covered breast in his mouth. As crazed now as he, she arched back, her hands fisted in his hair.
“Boone. Please.” The plea was sobbed out, though she had no idea what she was asking for. Unless it was more.
He lowered her, only so that he could capture her mouth again. His teeth scraped erotically over her swollen lips, and his tongue dived deep. Then his heart seemed to explode in his chest as she began to tug frantically at his clothes.
He stumbled toward the stairs, shedding his shirt as he went. Buttons popped and scattered. But his greedy hands reached for her again, yanking the thin chemise down to her waist as they reached the landing. “Here.” He dragged her down with him. “Right here.”
At last, he feasted, racing his mouth over her quivering flesh, ruthlessly exploiting her secrets, relentlesslydriving her with him where he so desperately needed her to go. No patience here, no rigid control for the sake of her fragility. Indeed, the woman writhing beneath him on the stairs was anything but fragile. There was strength in the hands that gripped him, searing passion in the mouth that tasted him so eagerly, whiplike agility in the body that strained under his.
She felt invincible, immortal, impossibly free. Her body was alive, never more alive, with heat pumping crazily through her blood. The world was spinning around her, a blur of color and blinding lights, whirling faster, faster, until she was forced to grip the pickets of the banister to keep from falling off the edge of the earth.
Her knuckles whitened against the wood as he tore her slacks away, then the thin swatch of lace beneath. His mouth, oh, his mouth, greedy, frantic, fevered. Ana bit back a scream as he sent her flying into hot, airless space.
Her mindless murmurs were in no language he could understand, but he knew he had taken her beyond the boundaries of the sane, of the rational. He wanted her there, right there with him as they catapulted into the madness of vivid, lawless passion.
He’d waited. He’d waited. Now her slim white body bucked. A thoroughbred ready to ride. Quivering like a stallion, he mounted her, driving himself into that wet, waiting heat. She arched to meet him and, hips moving like lightning, raced with him into the roaring dark.
***
Her hands slid weakly off his damp back. She was too numb to feel the slap of wood against them as they fell against the stairs. She wanted to hold him, but her strength was gone. It wasn’t possible to focus her mind on what had happened. All that came were flashes of sensations, bursts of emotions.
If this was the darker side of love, nothing could have prepared her for it. If this terrible need was what had lived inside him, she couldn’t comprehend how he could have strapped it back for so long.
For her sake. She turned her damp face into his throat. All for her sake.
Beneath his still-shuddering body, she was as limp as water. Boone struggled to get a grip on reality. He needed to move. After everything else he’d done to her, he was probably crushing her. But when he started to shift, she made a little sound of distress that scraped at his conscience.
“Here, baby, let me help you.”
He eased away, picking up a tattered sleeve of her blouse with some idea to cover her. Biting off an oath, he tossed it down again. She’d turned slightly on her side, obviously seeking some kind of comfort. For God’s sake, he thought in disgust, he’d taken her like some kind of fiend, and on the stairs.On the stairs.
“Ana.” He found what was left of his own shirt and tried to wrap it around her shoulders. “Anastasia, I don’t know how to explain.”
