Storm of Visions Read Online Free PDF

shoved her panties down one leg. He pushed one finger inside her, claim ing her without a care to the years apart.
    And her treacherous body, of course, did more than yield. It softened around him, grew moist in surrender, and she bucked beneath him, already on the edge of orgasm.
    “Don’t even think about finishing already.” His voice grated in anger. “You ran away. You pretended not to know me. You are going to pay.”
    “You were an ass, so if there’s payment to be made—”
    “I’ve already paid. Every day when we were apart, I paid.”
    “Not enough. Whatever you suffered, it wasn’t enough.” She tightened her inner muscles, massaging his finger.
    His eyes narrowed.
    “Imagine how good that would feel around your cock,” she whispered, and did it again, a long ripple that made him hiss with need.
    He wanted to dominate her? She had the weapons to fight the good fight.
    And he had the toughness, mental and physical, to keep her subdued. In a gradual, torturous motion, he slipped his finger out of her.
    She shuddered and grabbed his arms, wanting to be filled again.
    He sat up between her thighs. She watched, mesmerized, as a drop of water gathered at his throat, then trickled down his breastbone, zigzagging along the path of least resistance, between muscles even more sharply defined than she remembered. Had he lost weight? Did he work out more than he had before? Or was reality simply so much better than memory?
    The drop of water joined the slow ooze of blood from the wound she’d given him.
    He must be in pain, but he didn’t seem to notice. Of course not. Caleb had always been capable of proceeding on the course he’d determined, regardless of the pain he suffered . . . or the pain he would cause her.
    And right now, his course had been determined by his erection and his need. Curse him for making his need hers.
    He widened his legs and folded them underneath him, resting on his heels so close against her, everything female opened to him like a flower in bloom. Her knees were crooked, her feet rested flat on the floor, and as he looked down, he slid his palms up and down the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. That distinctive half smile quirked his cheek. “You’re swollen, Jacqueline.”
    He was looking. Looking and enjoying himself. She lifted her chin. “Yeah. So what? So are you.” She glanced down at him. Obviously .
    “So this makes even the smallest touch agony.”
    “That works both ways.”
    He pressed himself against her, a long, slow slide of his hips.
    She wanted to writhe against him. She wanted to rub him until she found her own pleasure, then rub him until he found his.
    But as always, he read her intentions on her face and caught her hips in his hands. “What is your desire, Jacqueline?”
    She turned her face away, refusing to look at him, to give him the satisfaction of knowing her frustration.
    “Jacqueline.” He leaned over, slid his hands along the floor on either side of her back, under her arms, and up to cradle her head. He surrounded her now; his legs were under hers and against her hips. His arms embraced her body. His chest touched hers. He smelled like her soap, lemon and rosemary, and like himself, strength and power.
    Yet one thing overcame her awareness of all that—his erection, heavy and hot, pressed at the entrance of her body.
    His voice demanded and cajoled. “Jacqueline, look at me.”
    Damned if she would.
    He smoothed his lips along her cheek, then kissed her neck under her ear, and nipped her lobe.
    She jumped.
    He laughed, his breath puffing against her skin.
    In a flash, she turned her head and caught his lower lip between her teeth. She nipped, too, and released, and glared into his eyes.
    “You don’t know when to surrender, do you?” he asked.
    He made angry blood roil in her veins. “I won’t surrender to you again. All that got me was rejection and—”
    He pushed himself the first inch inside of her.
    She caught her breath in