Taken By Fire
by Sydney Croft
June 28, 2011
**NOTE: this SNEAK PEEK comes from an uncorrected galley copy of the book**
“My powers are almost out.”
Thank fucking God. “Keep going.”
“I don’t want to do this anymore,” she murmured. “I’m killing you.”
“No one’s ever died from blue balls,” he said through gritted teeth. “I’ll be fine.”
Well, no, he wasn’t fine at all. And as she let off the last of her icy blasts, his body was rocked with the most painful urges he’d ever felt. He clawed the ground and tried to breathe, looked any- where but at Mel, and his eyes fell on the waterfall.
His erection was a steel rod and fucking painful. Hell, maybe this would be the best thing for him—a cold shower times a million.
He took off at a dead run, not stopping until he hit the water. Kept going until his body was under the freezing wash and he was shivering.
Bye-bye, erection; hello, hypothermia.
“Stryker—are you okay?” Melanie was asking, from directly in front of him. She’d stripped naked, her skin glistening with crystal water droplets, but she didn’t seem affected by the cold at all. Well, her nipples were pert, hard little buds … and this wasn’t helping anything.
“Um, no. Cold doesn’t affect me. At all.” She glanced down. “Doesn’t appear to be doing you much good either.”
“Fuck. Mel, please, just give me a few minutes.”
But she was in his arms then, her mouth on his, so damned warm and willing, her legs wrapped around his waist. His body felt right against hers, his body continuing to beg for mercy from his arousal in an all-consuming way, until he couldn’t think straight … couldn’t see straight.
That wasn’t from hypothermia either.
Her fingers wound through his wet hair and his hands held her hips, moved them back and forth, wanting nothing more than to be inside of her, right here and now.
But fuck, he couldn’t. He promised Devlin, and he did not go back on his word.
He pulled back, rested his forehead against hers. “Sorry, Mel,” he said over the slight rushing roar of the water, his voice raw.