Nalini Singh - Wild Invitation

He ran his thumb over her nipple. “Before,” he murmured against her mouth, “I comprehended the mechanics of this act, but I never understood.” That it could be lighthearted or intense, smoldering or wild…any of a thousand different moods, playing off his own and hers to create a new alchemy of pleasure every single time.

Today, it was slow, lazy, a touch playful.

Fisting her hand in his hair, she brushed her lips, soft and lush, across his cheekbone. “You know what I find sexy? These pajama bottoms you wear to bed.” She ran her foot over the fine blue cotton striped with black.

He knew when he was being teased, nipped at her lower lip in sensual punishment. “Those,” he said, her unrepentant laugh tangling him up, “are so as not to shock our youngest child if she walks in after a bad dream.” Unlike after they first defected, Marlee rarely had nightmares these days, but she wasn’t totally free of the scars the PsyNet had left on her psyche. When the dreams did hit, she still ran immediately for Walker. Which was why their bedroom door stayed unlocked at night—except if he flipped the remote switch as he’d done a few minutes ago.

Lara suckled kisses along his neck, spreading her thighs to better cradle his body. “She’s growing up in a changeling pack.” A graze of teeth. “I bet you it wouldn’t faze her.”

He had the feeling she was right. Changelings were very respectful of one another’s personal space, never assuming even casual skin privileges with people they didn’t know, but nakedness was accepted as a natural state of being, a logical outcome of the fact that every changeling young and old, came out of the shift naked.

“Well,” he muttered, “it’d faze me .”

Lara laughed, breath hot against his skin. “So shy, my poor darling.”

Tugging her up from his throat to claim her mouth, drink of her laughter, he moved his hand down past her navel to cup her over the lace of her panties, kissing her slow and deep until she grew damp against his palm, the scent of her an invitation. In no hurry, he continued the lazy seduction until she began to move restlessly against him, her delicate flesh plump against the lace.

His mate was more than happy to cooperate when he tugged off the silky shred of cloth, sighed as she realized he’d stripped off his pajama bottoms before returning to her. Rubbing her partially bared breasts against his chest when he bent to her mouth once again, kissing her one of his favorite pleasures, she wrapped her legs around his hips, her nightgown bunched up at her waist.

Silky and feminine and soft, she surrounded him, claimed him.

Moving one hand between their bodies to grip his erection, position himself at the tight heat of her entrance, he said, “Yes?”

“Please.” A sultry invitation, her body rising to welcome his.

He shuddered as he pushed home. Bracing himself on one arm and controlling the urge to thrust, he used the fingers of his free hand to tug the straps of her nightgown all the way off and brush his fingertips over the bare mounds of her breasts. She moaned, drawing her nails up along his back in a light caress as her internal muscles fluttered around him, her flesh molten honey with welcome. “You feel so good inside me.”

Her words were a caress as intoxicating as the possessive clasp of her body.

Lowering his mouth to her throat, he kissed his way down to her breasts, teased her with his teeth, his lips…while rocking into her, slow and easy. They had only been mated a short period, but he knew how to listen to his mate’s body, never forgot a single detail of what pleasured her.

“You’re thinking,” she accused.

He tugged a sensitive nipple between his teeth, released it to her gasp. “For the moment.” He knew from experience he’d soon succumb to an overload of pure sensation.

“You know this”—a soft moan as he drew back at leisure, pushed in as deliberately—“drives me crazy.”

“Hmm.” Reaching down, he insinuated his hand between their bodies once more to touch her exactly where and how she loved it the most; knowledge he possessed because she’d whispered it to him when he’d asked her to teach him her pleasure points, his wild sensual mate who denied him nothing. “Is this better?”

Her body tightened then broke in a shocked ripple of ecstasy, her muscles clamping down on him. He gritted his teeth to hold back the urge to rush—he wasn’t in a rushing kind of a mood tonight—and then, when she softened beneath him, he kissed her with languorous sensuality, petting her down from the peak.

Heavy lids lifted to reveal eyes gone nightglow. “I guess,” she murmured, kissing his throat, “this patience is a side effect of the control you had to maintain in the PsyNet.”

He held her to his throat, sucking in a breath as she licked out at a particularly sensitive spot. “Possibly.”

A smile against his skin. “Lucky me.”

Looking down into her pleasure-drenched expression, he whispered, “No. I’m the lucky one.”

He held her gaze for every long, deep stroke, luxuriated in the touch of her hands down his back as she tried to bring him impossibly closer, gloried in the secondary wave of pleasure that turned those wolf-bright eyes hazy…and took him under in a passionate storm that short-circuited his every nerve.

• • •

HE came to, collapsed beside his mate’s body, his thigh pinning both of hers and his arm over her breasts, his face turned toward her own on a single shared pillow. Breathing was an effort, but since Lara seemed to be having the same problem, he was content to lie there, hot and sweaty and happy.

Happy.

It was the wrong word to think tonight, the wrong key to turn after the flash of memory at the dinner table.

Fingers against his nape, rubbing at the sudden rigid tension. “Walker?”

The past shoved at his defenses, and it took all of his strength to fight the urge to let it spill out. “I don’t want to taint us with what was.”

Lara nudged at him until he shifted his body enough to allow her to turn to face him. “We’re stronger than memories, stronger than hurt.” A luminous smile. “We’re a mated pair, a family.”

So simple, so powerful, her words smashed the dam inside him. But it took him time to speak, time to think past the violent crimson haze incited by this particular fragment of the past. Lara didn’t shove, didn’t attempt to force. No, his mate simply nuzzled close and held him, as if she knew he needed her touch at this instant more than ever before.

“The day the rehabilitation order was authorized,” he began at last, his voice a harsh rasp, “when I came home to find Yelene packing because she didn’t intend to let her genes die out with mine”—the reason she’d aborted their unborn child with cold-blooded callousness—“I discovered she’d put in a call to pull Marlee and Toby out of school.” Jagged, brutal, the words cut at his throat, made him bleed.

“It’s okay,” Lara said, her distress open. “You don’t have to tell me if it hurts.”

He fisted his hand in her hair, anchoring himself in the warmth and heart and wildness of her. “No, I need to tell you.” Needed her to accept him in spite of the terrible mistakes he’d made and the pain those mistakes had caused. “Yelene had every intention of telling both children to pack up their belongings for donation to charity, because they’d be vegetables after the brainwipe of rehabilitation, with no use for any of it.”

Horror colored Lara’s eyes. “That’s not Silence, Walker, that’s cruelty.”

Walker stroked his hand down her side, felt the rage that vibrated through her. “It was as if she had never been their guardian,” he said, the insight making no more sense now than it had then, “never vowed to care for the children.”