Page 108 of Dark Lover

Sam almost forgot about the throbbing heat beneath the pad of her finger. She stared at his mouth.

It shifted, curved. Then he slid his hand into her short hair, on the back of her head. Their eyes met. His smile faded.

It felt like an eternity was passing, as she stood there, her heart slamming, waiting for the feeling of his mouth.

He leaned closer and touched his mouth to hers. Sam’s heart erupted as their lips finally made contact. It was a bare, tentative, virginal brushing.

He froze, their lips still touching, as if surprised or uncertain.

Oddly, she was as uncertain, as surprised. “It’s okay,” she whispered, curling her hands around his shoulders.

He trembled. His other arm went around her. Then his mouth brushed hers, this time more firmly.

Sam opened.

And Ian finally kissed her. Hot and hard, with shocking hunger, a kiss worth waiting for. Sam kissed him back, stunned by the turbulence in her chest. There was so much joy and so much excitement…

His tongue went deep. She hit the wall, their lips locked. No one had ever kissed her this way before.

She’d never wanted to kiss anyone back this way, either.

She threaded her fingers through his hair. He grunted, turning her to the bed. Somehow she went down on it, on her back. He pushed between her spread thighs, the scrap of miniskirt lifting out of the way. Their lips still locked—she didn’t think she ever wanted to break the kiss—she reached for his zipper. He tore at her mouth, now frenzied.

Their tongues twisted, tasted, entwined.

His teeth grated.

Sam thought she tasted blood.

He tore his mouth from hers, panting hard. Their gazes clashed, locked. Staring at her, his eyes blinding, he reached down between them. She heard the zipper as he jerked it down.

“Can ye wait?” he demanded.

In answer, she wrapped her calves around his waist and pushed against his massive arousal, already wet and slick. He smiled, bent, licked her lips again and again, throbbing against her. Sam gave up. She caught his hips, anchored him and impaled herself.

He cried out.

It was the best damn orgasm—or series of them—ever.

SEVERAL HOURS LATER, he launched himself off her, panting harshly and rolling onto his back. Still swimming in a sea of ecstasy, Sam just lay there and let the pleasure flow.

It was a while before the waves finally subsided. When she was somewhat coherent, she touched her mouth, which was swollen and bruised. No one had ever kissed her as Ian had that night. It was as if it were the last kiss he’d ever have—or it was as if it were the first kiss for him, a kiss he couldn’t get enough of.

She realized he was watching her closely.

Sam turned slightly so their gazes met. His face wasn’t mocking; it was carefully neutral. His gaze was lazy, but watchful.

She wet her lips. “Hey.”

“Did I hurt ye?”

She was amused. “No, Ian. I’m a big, bad girl and I can handle the rough stuff.”

He didn’t smile back. He lay fully on his back and stared up at the timbered ceiling.

Sam felt her smile fade. A moment ago he hadn’t been able to get enough of her—and it had been mutual. Now, two inches separated their bodies and shockingly, she wanted to close that gap. She actually wanted to lie in his arms and maybe rub her mouth on his chest.

She flushed. If she made the attempt, he might think her involved. He might push her away, reject her.