Page 32 of Keeper of Talon Mountain
"I need this." My voice comes out rougher than intended. "I need you. Need to feel something other than fear and fragments."
Understanding floods her eyes. She takes my hand and leads me to the bed, her skin warm under my touch as we lie down together.
"Feel this," she says, guiding my hand to her breast, her heart pounding beneath my palm. "Feel me. I'm real. This is real."
I kiss her again, our lips engaging in a passionate dance, tongues teasing and exploring each other. My hands eagerly travel across the landscape of her body—the curve of her waist, the flare of her hips, the silky flesh of her inner thighs. She gasps when my fingers discover the soft folds of her womanhood, slick with desire.
"Please," she breathes. "I need you inside me. Need to know you're really here."
I position myself between her thighs, the head of my erection nudging against the entrance to her warmth. Our eyes lock as I push inside inch by agonizing inch, feeling her body yield to accommodate me. She's tight and hot and perfect, her velvety walls gripping me as I fill her completely.
"Yes," she moans, her nails digging into my shoulders. "Like that. Don't be gentle."
I'm not. Can't be. The fear and frustration of the night pours out in the relentless rhythm of my hips, each thrust deeper and more forceful than the last. She meets me stroke for stroke, her legs wrapping around my waist to draw me closer.
"Touch yourself," I rasp against her neck. "I want to feel you come around me."
Her hand slides between our bodies, fingers deftly circling and stroking that sensitive nub. I can feel the added pressure, the way her body starts to quiver around me. My ribs protest the exertion but I don't care, too consumed by the electric heat coursing between us.
"Gabe," she gasps. "I'm close. So close."
"Let go," I tell her. "I've got you."
She shatters beneath me, her body convulsing as she cries out my name. The sensation of her climax, the rhythmic tightening of her inner walls, pushes me over the precipice. I drive deep and hold, waves of ecstasy washing over me with such intensity that I'm left quivering in her embrace.
After, we lie facing each other, foreheads touching, breathing the same air. Her hand rests over my heart, feeling it slow from the frantic pace.
"I'm scared," she whispers into the darkness.
"Me too."
"But we'll figure this out. Whatever happens, we face it together."
I want to promise her that. Want to believe it's true. But with Crane's deadline ticking down and my memories locked away, I don't know if together will be enough.
She shifts closer, her leg hooking over my hip, keeping me close. Within minutes, her breathing evens out, deepens. Sleep finds her even though it eludes me.
Sleep doesn't come easily. Too many fragments spinning through my head. Too many gaps that need filling. Louise Shrake's face. Crane's cold eyes. The photograph of the unknown woman.
The photograph sits on the nightstand. Dark hair, eyes that mirror my own. Somewhere out there, this woman has answers.
Seventy hours left to find her.
11
MARA
Cold sheets wake me. Panic follows until I hear his voice.
"I'm here." Gabe stands at the window in the pre-dawn gray, photograph in hand. "Just couldn't sleep."
My heart rate settles. "How long have you been up?"
"Couple hours." He doesn't turn from the window. "Trying to remember who she is. Trying to make something click."
Yesterday's clothes go back on as I join him at the window. The photograph shows a young woman with dark hair and Gabe's eyes. The family resemblance is obvious now that I'm looking for it. "Sister?"
"Maybe. Probably." He touches the image with careful fingers. "The note says to trust her. That feels like family. But would I put my sister in danger?"
