Rush of Pleasure Read online

  At any other time in his life, Noah would have probably been excited by the change in his sight, knowing it would make him better in a fight. But he couldn’t ignore the wary voice in his head that kept reminding him the changes in his body were only linking him closer to the monsters.

  Choking back a bitter curse, he grabbed the gun tucked into the back of his jeans and set it on his bedside table. Then he pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it on the back of the chair, and shucked off his jeans. He’d just grabbed the top of the covers, getting ready to pull them down so that he could slip beneath, when Willow lifted her head, shooting him a surprised look over her shoulder, the smooth skin bare but for the slim strap of a tank top.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” she gasped.

  Stretching out in the bed, Noah put his hands behind his head. As he stared up at the ceiling, he tried not to think about how insubstantial that tank top was and answered what he considered a fairly ridiculous question. “What do you think I’m doing, Will? I’m going to bed.”

  He wasn’t crazy about sleeping in the same bed with her, since it was going to be damn hard to relax with her body so close to his—but it’s not like there were a lot of alternatives and he was dead on his feet.

  He jumped when she twisted around and poked him in the arm with her finger. “Damn it!” he yelped, rubbing his arm as he shot her a scowl. “What was that for?”

  “You are not sleeping in this bed,” she informed him, the haughty tone of her voice setting his teeth on edge. “You can sleep on the sofa.”

  “Like hell,” he grumbled, wondering what her problem was. It’s not like he was going to attack her, no matter how badly he might like to. And there were acres of empty space between them. “That sofa’s three feet too short for me. And I bet it feels like plywood.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Tough.”

  “What is it with you? You were ready to bare your ass to my friends a little while ago, but now you’re too shy to sleep in the same bed with me?”

  “Not too shy,” she shot back with a grim smile. “Just unwilling.”

  His temper started to slip away from him, and he forced his response through gritted teeth. “I’m not going to touch you, so just chill.”

  She studied his face in the soft darkness, no doubt noticing how worn out he looked, and finally relented. “Fine. Whatever. Just stay on your side of the mattress.”

  He grunted, wondering if he should be insulted that she’d apparently just decided he was too tired to be a threat. “The same goes for you,” he ground out with a disgruntled thread of amusement, certain it was the first time he’d ever warned a woman to stay away from him in bed.

  She muttered something colorful in response as she gave him her back, and despite his shitty mood, Noah found himself grinning. He lay there for a long time in the quiet darkness, listening as her breathing eventually evened out with the calmness of sleep. He must have eventually dozed off, because sometime in the night he drifted slowly back to awareness. He knew, in an instant, that he was dreaming. And he didn’t want to wake up. Not yet. Unlike the gruesome nightmares that had plagued him for months, this one was too damn good to miss.

  He was standing in the middle of a forest…and he was with Will. A bloodred moon hung low over the trees, scarred by the jagged edges of dark cloud that stretched across the sky. The air was warm, sweet with the scent of Willow’s skin, the night silent but for the whispering of the wind and their sawing breaths.

  They were both dressed in jeans and T-shirts, but her nipples were pressed tight against the thin cotton, and Noah felt himself reaching out for her, covering the soft weight of her breast with his hand. She gasped, her head falling back, and with a low growl on his lips, he took her mouth in a desperate, searching kiss, as if he was trying to find the answer to something important. Something…vital.

  Noah didn’t know how long they stayed in that tight, clutching embrace, arms wrapped around each other, the tenor of the kiss bordering on violence. He thrust his tongue against hers with a greed that left him shaken, then nipped at her bottom lip, unable to get enough of the sleek, petal-soft textures…the warm, honeylike taste. It was a rich, drugging sweetness that made his blood go thick, his cock pulsing with a raw, insistent ache. He ran his hands down her back until he gripped her ass, then yanked her close, her body soft and pliant against his hardness, melting into him.

  God, he needed this. Even if it was only a dream. He needed all of her. Needed her on his tongue, on his skin. Needed to spread her open and drive his body inside hers until she’d taken every demanding inch of him. Until he could feel the hammering of her heartbeat thrumming around the heavy length of his cock as he stretched her open, her arms and legs locked tight around his body, holding him close. Binding him to her.

  His hands gripped tighter as he lifted her up, grinding her against his erection with an animal-like sound of pleasure. He moved forward a few steps, trapping her against the gnarled trunk of a towering oak tree. Curving one hand around the back of her neck, tangling his fingers in her soft curls, he slid the other down the back of her thigh. As he lifted her leg higher on his hip, the position allowed him to rub more fully against the warm cushion of her sex. She moaned in response, whispering his name, and the soft sound of longing pierced right through him, like a bullet. It struck with a violent force that ripped him from the lush, delicious depths of the dream, jerking him back to a shocking awareness.

  With his chest heaving, Noah opened his eyes and took in the startling reality of his surroundings. The cheap motel room, instead of the forest. A scarred headboard instead of the gnarled, towering tree. But Willow was still in his arms. Still moaning and writhing against him, her legs hugging his hips, his knees braced in the bedding. She moved like she wanted to crawl under his skin, driving him out of his mind.

  Driven by blinding urgency, his hand shook as he grasped the hem of her tank top and shoved it up, his mouth closing hotly over a sweet, pink nipple. She cried out at the intimate contact, the throaty sound making him wild. He used his tongue to stroke and lick, nipping with his teeth, before sucking on her with a hunger that just kept rising. He could not get enough. Not of her taste or her skin or those provocative little sounds she kept making. The way she arched against his mouth, seeking more…or the breathtaking quiver of desire shivering through her limbs. The way she wound her fingers in his hair, tugging him closer.

  God…I need her. Want her.

  Just her. Her. Her…

  In that moment, all of Noah’s concerns were forgotten. He was an animal, primal and male, at the mercy of his baser hungers. He grunted with feral satisfaction as he lifted her body higher, trapping her against the headboard with the burning heat of his body, his muscles coiled hard and tight. Her dazed eyes went wide as he gave a raw, guttural growl, just before he covered her mouth with his, his blood roaring in his ears as visceral craving bore down on him, obliterating reason and logic. Smashing it with a violence that should have shaken him…but he was too far out there, existing in pure sensation.

  She didn’t fight him, but her mouth had been shocked into stillness beneath his—passive, simply taking, accepting—and he wanted her hunger. Wanted the bite of her nails and her mind-blowing passion.

  He wanted her wild for him.

  “Goddamn it, kiss me back,” he snarled, holding the side of her face in his hand. She moaned, tilting her head, fitting her mouth more closely to his. “Please,” he gasped against her silky lips, his voice cracking as he begged her…pleading. “Kiss me back, Will.” And then he felt the soft, sweet stroke of her tongue, and his body shuddered violently in response to that delicate, seeking touch. Within seconds, the kiss became something explicitly carnal, devastating in its power. Noah kissed her like he wanted to consume her. Like he never wanted to stop. And he didn’t. He wanted it to last forever. Wanted to keep drinking in that warm, heady flavor, loving the way she tasted on his tongue. Loving that for once in his godforsaken life, reali
ty was so much better than the dream.

  With another feral, rumbling growl, he broke the kiss, pressing his mouth to the sharp point of her jaw as he sucked in lungfuls of her mouthwatering scent, his chest heaving. Heat shot up his spine, roaring through him as he reached for the waistband of her pajama bottoms, wrenching them down as far as he could get them with her legs wrapped around his waist. His body shuddered as he pressed his hand between her thighs, stroked through the plump, slippery folds that were drenched with heat, then thrust a long finger inside her. She cried out again, panting against the side of his face, her nails biting into his shoulders, while her inner muscles spasmed, clasping him tighter, fighting to hold him inside her. He made a thick sound as he pressed deeper, loving the way she clung to him, so tender and hot, and he pulled his head back so that he could watch her eyes. Watch the pleasure climb, shocking her, the moment so intimate it made his chest hurt. He’d done this with too many women to count, and yet, in that moment, he couldn’t remember a goddamn one of them.

  Not. A. Single. One.

  All he could see was Will.

  It was mesmerizing, watching the emotion flash through her dark eyes as he stroked inside her, penetrating the plush sheath, pushing deep, then slipping his finger back out and swirling the callused tip wetly over her clit. She trembled, her mouth open for a soundless word that looked like More, and he locked his jaw as he pushed back in, giving her two fingers this time. Her sex was tight and wet and scalding around his fingers, burning him alive, and he braced her with the press of his body so that he could free his other hand to shove down his boxers.

  She cried out again, his name spilled huskily from her kiss-swollen lips, and the next thing Noah knew, long, lethal fangs were bursting into his mouth, heavy and throbbing and hot—just like the ones he had in his nightmares. But he was too far gone to care. He pressed himself against her, stroking the heavy head of his cock through her slick, swollen folds, his breath leaving his chest in ragged bursts as he buried his face in the crook of her shoulder. Her skin was deliciously smooth against his scratchy cheek, her scent an intoxicating lure. Unable to resist, he put his mouth against the tender column of her throat, the hunger demanding that he possess and mark her in the most primal, savage way that a male could mark his mate.

  Just as the blunt tip of him nudged her entrance, he scraped his fangs across her sumptuous flesh, on the verge of taking his first bite, when she gripped two handfuls of his hair and wrenched his head back.

  “Whoa,” she said breathlessly. “Noah, wait!”

  “I won’t hurt you,” he groaned, lowering his head and flicking his tongue against her throat, loving the way her wet sex felt against the bulging head of his shaft. “I—”

  “Noah! Listen to me. I said no!”

  He pulled back a little, confused. He could sense her withdrawal, but couldn’t understand exactly what she wanted. Her words were fuzzy in his ears, their meaning not getting through to his brain, like she was shouting at him through soundproof glass while he struggled to read her lips. He shook his head, trying to concentrate, while the import of those words fought to break their way through the deafening fog of hunger and lust.

  “Goddamn it, Noah!” She shoved hard against his shoulders, then slapped him with so much force that his head whipped to the side. “Move back!”

  The words busted through that time, like a douse of cold water in his face. He brought his face back around and looked into her eyes…and reality came back in a slow, sickening slide.

  Shit, he thought dully, shaking his head again, while the details of the situation came into sharper focus. Her warm body crushed against his chest. The thick, granite-hard length of his cock pressing against her inner thigh. The kiss-swollen shape of her mouth beneath eyes that were burning with hot, vibrant emotion. Christ, he could not be doing this. What the hell was wrong with him?

  “Damn it!” He curved his hands into shaking fists, lifted his arms and slammed his fists against the wall, making her jump. A muscle in his jaw pulsed with fury as he narrowed his eyes at her. “This isn’t going to happen,” he snarled. “I am not going to bang you against the wall in some cheap motel room. Not for our first time!”

  “Hey!” Indignation filled her expression. “It wasn’t like I asked for this. You’re the one who grabbed me. And I’m the one who told you to stop!”

  “You think I don’t know that?” he shouted, hitting the wall again. “I know I fucked up and I’m sorry!” He felt the heavy, uncomfortable fangs start to recede, and almost sagged with relief. His fists unclenched, his hands flattening against the wall as he closed his eyes. “I didn’t mean to scare you,” he added in a halting rasp, the burning in his gums a stark reminder of what had almost happened. “I…I thought you were…with me.” His eyes opened, and he locked his gaze with hers. “I thought you wanted me.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  WILLOW SWIPED HER tongue across her lower lip, fully aware that Noah was waiting for her to tell him he’d been right, that she had wanted him. When he realized she wasn’t going to say anything, his expression tightened and he pulled away from her, a blast of cold hitting her as she lost the feverish heat of his body.

  He kept his face averted as he jerked up his boxers—too fast for her to get a good look at him—and moved to the other side of the bed, where he sat with his long legs braced over the side, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. His back was strong and beautifully muscled, his skin misted with a light sheen of sweat. She licked her bottom lip again, tasting him on her mouth, and he tasted like wicked things. Like sin and sex. Like something that she could get addicted to, if she didn’t play it smart.

  Problem was, she’d been wanting to be unsmart all friggin’ night. When he’d challenged her about the striptease, she’d been so tempted to call his bluff. To just drop the towel and see if he would make good on the carnal, provocative threat that had burned in those piercing ice-blue eyes. Noah Winston at nineteen had been the most gorgeous thing she’d ever seen. But at thirty-one he was to die for. Dark, devastating and enticingly dangerous. He all but oozed sex appeal, one crooked slant of that sensual mouth and she was ready to beg. It was only through sheer force of will that she’d managed to resist the urge.

  She’d actually been proud of herself, thinking she was stronger than she’d thought where he was concerned, until he’d shut down his computer and started taking his clothes off. She’d been watching him in the mirror over the dresser, and her eyes had all but bugged out of her skull when he’d pulled off his shirt. No doubt about it, the man was built. To perfection. His shoulders were hard and broad, his muscles ripped beneath golden skin that looked silky and warm. There was a particularly nasty scar running along his rib cage that she wanted to ask about, as well as other souvenirs from his time with the Watchmen. She’d had no idea just how good that hard-worn look would suit him.

  She wanted him so badly she could taste it, and if she were any other woman she probably would have said to hell with pride and taken what he was offering. But she couldn’t. Damn it, there were reasons she couldn’t have sex with him. Circumstances that were beyond her control. That she could do nothing to change at this point. It sucked, but this was the hand that fate had dealt her, and no matter how much she hated it, Willow knew she couldn’t change it.

  But that didn’t mean she wasn’t tempted. And by a man with a wicked set of fangs, no less. Go figure. She didn’t hold the prejudice against those breeds that liked to drop fang now and then, the way most of the Chastain did. But then, it’d never been something that had turned her on, either.

  Not that she was admitting any of it to him. There was too much baggage between them. Too many feelings that were tenuous and raw. Too much unknown. Too much…everything.

  She was, however, eager for an answer about what had just happened. Quickly sorting out her pajama bottoms and tank top, she dropped down into a sitting position, pulling her knees to her chest. “Is there something you want to tell me, Noah? Be
cause the last I knew, you were human. As in sans fangs.”

  “I’ll tell you…what’s happening. I promise.” His breathing was still ragged, his shoulders glistening with sweat. “Just not now, Will. Please.”

  She accepted that…for the moment, but only because she wasn’t entirely certain she wanted to know the answer.

  Still, she wasn’t afraid.

  And it wasn’t like she was without resources. Her blade was close by, sitting on the bedside table. Or, if she’d wanted, she could have blasted him with a shot of electricity, thanks to her powers. But she hadn’t wanted to hurt him. And in spite of everything, she didn’t believe he would ever harm her.

  But if that was true, then why was her heart hammering like a freight train, her breath still tight in her lungs? Was it Noah she didn’t trust…or her own weak-kneed, gimme-your-body-now reaction to him?

  Believing he would never harm her physically was one thing—but there were all kinds of hurt. Endless ways to cause pain. Her body might be safe…but her heart was a different matter altogether.

  “Fine. I’ll accept that for now,” she said, studying the back of his neck, appreciating how beautiful it was in the soft spill of light still glowing around the bathroom door. Masculine, strong. She loved the shape of his hairline and his ears. Loved the strong cords of muscle and sinew that connected his neck to those powerful shoulders. Yum.

  “I’m sorry, Will.” His rough voice pulled at her, making her want to reach out to him. “If it makes you feel any better, I feel like shit about…what just happened.”

  “I don’t know what you’re so upset about. I wanted you to stop, and you did. You didn’t hurt me, and I’m hardly going to be traumatized by…a few kisses. I’m not a child, Noah.” And it’s not like she hadn’t been kissing him back, rubbing all over him. When she thought of just how eager she’d been, heat climbed into her face, and she had to fight the urge to cover her burning cheeks with her hands.