Linda Thomas-Sundstrom - Immortal Redeemed

Taking chances didn’t seem so disturbing when, due to the severity of that injury, she felt as if she was already living on borrowed time.

She wanted to feel something. She wanted to explore the edges of the unknown and find a place ruled by pure sensation. If this stranger could give her that...well, all right, and God bless his perfect, leather-clad hide.

Surprisingly, his kiss was tender at first—not much more than a light pressure. He was judging her reaction, being honorable about waiting for her response. So she kissed him back.

Green light.

He got the hint and deepened the kiss. More pressure. More heat. The warmth of his mouth ignited fires deep down inside her that grew even hotter when he slipped the tip of his tongue between her teeth.

Yes, you beautiful bastard!

Her mind soared. Her body began to overheat. McKenna placed both of her hands on his shoulders and dug her fingers into the worn black leather, looking for a hold. In the back of her mind she conjured more unladylike four-letter words that described her wanton behavior.

But what the hell...

Her knight crushed her body to his, bending her spine, kissing her with a passion that was shockingly new. This kind of passion suggested a world far from her familiar one, a place of raw abandon where anything was possible. Having his mouth on hers created in her a hunger for something she’d never even sampled. That hunger began to take her over.

He was what she wanted right that minute. More of this. More of him. God yes, she might have gone temporarily insane, but she was going to have it all.

Damn you...

Each second in this man’s embrace piled on more greed. Her skin buzzed with excitement. The deep V between her thighs tingled, anxious to be touched, entered, taken, filled, either gently or roughly, without caring about feelings, pain or hurt, and how she might hate herself afterward.

She longed to feel alive again, and this guy knew how to take care of that. He seemed to understand the things her life lacked and was willing to show them to her.

What have I become?

When he pulled back, she wanted to strike him in protest. She didn’t want to go back to being bland, scarred McKenna. Not now. Not yet. When she looked up, it was to find a questioning glint in his unusually light, sky blue eyes.

“You need to know my name.” The tone of his voice was like a second caress.

McKenna shook her head. “I’d rather not know that.”

“Then at least tell me yours.”

Without the heated pressure of his lips, she quickly chilled. “McKenna.”

He said, “It suits you. I like it.”

“Does liking my name make a difference?”

“It makes things more personal, don’t you think?”

“I’m trying to avoid personal.”

“Then we won’t be going inside?”

McKenna was surprised to hear her reply. “Yes. We will.”

After a kiss like that, she was wholeheartedly willing to put herself on the line.

“Yes,” she repeated, holding back the urge to straddle the guy right here on the street.

He was infuriatingly calm. Taking her hand in his, her motorcycle-riding knight turned from the street and led her to her front door...straight toward the culmination of those wicked images she could barely keep to herself.

* * *

Before McKenna realized it, they were almost up the stairs to her fifth-floor loft. No further threat of fainting spells came. She didn’t have to be carried since she was fueled by anticipation and adrenaline.

She handed him her key. Inside the high-ceilinged space, lights set on timers blazed in honor of her late return. Clothes from the day before lay strewn on the floor. The bed was unmade.

Her companion didn’t seem to notice the disarray. Once the door closed behind them, his hands were on her again. He gathered her into his arms, his mouth moving greedily on hers.

Nothing was left of the gentleman now. These kisses were acts of ravenous, insatiable hunger that hurled McKenna toward a heightened emotional state. Breathing became a game between her mouth and his, her lungs and his. The tightness of his hold on her kept the world from tilting.

Her coat hit the wood floor with a clink of the metallic buttons. He undid her shirt far enough to slip one heated hand beneath. When he reached her breast, her heart exploded. Her breath hitched. She felt the beat of his pulse through the thin layer of lingerie she wore. That pulse was strong, erratic, and it lurched when her hands joined with his in the furious race for discovery.

The leather he wore was a unique kind of turn-on, smooth as velvet, with an old-world masculine scent. She ran both hands over his backside and the jacket emblazoned with the curious logo. Simultaneously, his fingers sailed lightly across her bare stomach before reaching around to her back.

Every inch of flesh he touched burned. It didn’t take much for her to imagine what lay beneath his clothes and how much she would enjoy finding out.

“Off with the jacket,” she whispered into his mouth.

Wanting to miss nothing, McKenna searched for a way under his black T-shirt as his leather jacket hit the floor.

The groan she heard was a sound she had made. The sheer beauty in front of her demanded it. Where Derek, her former lover, had been lean and wiry, this guy was composed of gracefully tuned muscle. Wide shoulders stretched the cotton shirt tight. His chest was magnificently broad, perched above a narrow waist and hips.

He had the corded arms of someone used to performing hard work, without the calluses on his hands to prove it. Since he was a knight, according to the legend on his jacket, McKenna imagined him as a warrior of old, riding a horse instead of a Harley and swinging a sword. A heavy silver broadsword was the type of weapon knights with all that well-honed muscle would be trained to wield.

She imagined herself in his arms, back in those times of castles and fierce men on battlefields...

And damn it, she was taking this whole rescuer thing too far.

When his mouth recaptured hers, McKenna’s mind fuzzed over in favor of her body’s new focus. Bed. This guy was all hers for the next few hours, and she’d be counting them not in minutes, but in orgasms like the one she was close to having now.

Craving the feel of her skin against his, McKenna eased back. He was in excellent shape, his skin tight, taut. His abs were well-defined. He flinched when she touched his bare skin as if he wasn’t used to being touched.

Her fingers moved like lightning over him. When she looked up, he was smiling. His expression held a hint of sadness that made him look almost vulnerable. When their gazes met, blue eyes to blue eyes, McKenna’s internal fires became volcanic, erupting, spreading, spilling over every nerve she possessed.

She held her breath. He made a move.

First he tore off his shirt. Then he removed hers. He took the time to glance down the length of her body before lifting her into his arms. Crossing the room in three big strides, he laid her on the bed, pulled off her boots and leaned over her with one of his hands on the pillow and his other hand resting on the zipper of her jeans.

McKenna struggled for each new breath. Anticipation caused her limbs to quake. The guy’s damnably perfect face filled her vision, his features hurtfully handsome, almost supernaturally beguiling. “No one is this perfect,” she managed to say, holding off the distant internal drumming.

He arched one auburn eyebrow.

“You’re not going to have to work very hard,” she added. “I’m afraid I might be too weak to last very long against all that...” She waved at his body.

“Then don’t,” he whispered. “Don’t hold out.”

“Damn you.”

“I could stop,” he said. “But we haven’t even really started yet, have we?”