Wicked Deeds on a Winter's Night Read Online Free PDF Page A

constantly .
    To be lost after so long . . . Follow her into oblivion. Follow her down .
    *  *  *
    At last Mari sensed him letting go, growing more aggressive, turning as fierce as she’d expected.
    His kiss was hard and heated as he claimed her mouth. And she was more than ready to match his need. She found herself going up on her knees, brazenly pressing her body into his, feeling his unyielding erection against her belly.
    She would become an immortal soon, she sensed it, and everyone had told her the flood of desires she’d experience leading up to the change would be strong. So far it had proved overwhelming . Was that what was happening here? Was she enjoying her first taste of lust between two immortals?
    He was the most sinful kisser she’d ever had, and she knew she wasn’t going to get another chance with him ever. So she gripped his head, kissing him as if her life depended on it.
    When she’d made love in the past, Mari had felt that something vital was missing, something she’d feared she couldn’t do without for much longer. Now she knew what she’d missed. Intensity. That hectic passion so strong it made good sense—made thought itself—fade to nothing but feeling. He could give that to her.
    With the hand gripping her waist, he rubbed his thumb up and down her torso. When he made contact with the small ring at her navel, he drew a quick, surprised breath against her lips.
    His shaking hand finally trailed lower. . . .
    Aching to touch him as well, she ran her fingers downhis broad chest. Just as she reached the waist of his jeans, he began working his fingers into her shorts. Their kiss grew more desperate.
    When she thought about them touching each other like this, pleasuring each other, she couldn’t prevent her hips from rocking up to his hand. But when her curious fingertips dipped down, and she brushed the broad, slick head of his erection, he jerked as if in shock at the touch, as if she’d seared him.
    He grabbed her wrist, seeming to decide if he should pull her hand away or press it against him. “ Need this, ” he finally rasped, forcing her hand into the heat of his jeans to grip his thick shaft. “ So damned much .”
    â€œYes!” she cried, feeling him stroking at the lace edge of her panties.
    He groaned and reached lower. When he cupped the wet flesh between her legs, he shuddered, thrusting himself into her fist.
    Just when she had no doubt they were about indulge in each other, he stilled. Even as his erection throbbed in her grip, and his breaths were ragged, he withdrew his hand from her and shook his head hard. “But canna have it.”
    Suddenly, he snatched her hand from him, squeezing her wrist so tightly, magick began building in her palm in reflex. His ghostly blue eyes flickered over the light. Then, as if reminded of what she was, he looked disgusted with her. His voice low, he said, “Quit the Hie, witch.”
    She slowly shook her head. “Not on your life, MacRieve.” Not after everything she’d done to get here. And not when the next Hie wouldn’t be for another two hundred and fifty years.
    His lips were subtly drawing back to bare his lengthening fangs. “Vow you’ll quit, or I swear I will make it so you do no’ distract me again.”
    â€œI wasn’t trying to distract you—”
    â€œBullshite!” He shoved aside the sarcophagus cover she was perched on, jarring her. His hand rooted down, and he plucked out the headdress—a stunning gold and jade piece. “You could almost make me forget what I really want.” Fisting his fingers around it, he cast her a menacing smile. They both knew that all he had to do was lift the prize above his heart, and it would travel to Riora, the goddess of the Hie. He raised it, and the headdress disappeared; for a second afterward, Mari felt the magick, clear and true, and smelled the