“What?”

“This.” Dipping his head, he brushed his lips against hers.

Etienne hadn’t lied. He had never longed so much for a woman, her company, her touch . . . and that longing magnified a hundredfold when Krysta parted her lips and drew her tongue across his lower lip.

Flames licked his veins as he deepened the kiss, stroking her tongue with his own, eliciting a feminine moan. And, oh, what that moan did to him.

He tightened his hold, pressed her as close to him as he could get her, his body burning at every contact point.

Rising onto her toes, she locked her arms around his neck. His pulse raced as she combed her fingers through his hair and clenched them, giving a light tug, even as she rubbed her hips against his erection.

Oh, yeah.

A throaty laugh escaped her.

“What?” Urging her back against the wall, he slid one hand down over her tempting ass and ground her against him. Damn, she felt good.

“You project your thoughts when you’re turned on,” she purred.

He smiled. “So do you.”

Obeying one of those thoughts, which mirrored his own desires, he found one of her breasts with his free hand. Small and firm, it fit perfectly in the palm of his hand, just as he had known it would. He teased her nipple, hard beneath her shirt and sports bra. Stroked it. Pinched it.

She moaned and strained closer, her heart pounding so hard he could feel it in his own chest. More.

He lowered his fingers to the hem of her shirt, slipped his hand beneath it and smoothed it up her warm, satiny skin. Squeezing beneath her tight sports bra, he again palmed her breast.

She gasped. Releasing his hair, she lowered one hand to his chest.

At first, he thought she meant to stop him. She covered his hand with hers over her bra, squeezed. Then, she moved on, forging a burning path down his stomach to cup his heavy erection.

He groaned and thrust against her.

Smiling against his lips, she drew her hand back.

Etienne’s heart damned near stopped when she slid one leg up his and hooked it over his hip, opening herself to him. Urged on by her thoughts and her delicious body, he rocked against her.

Both moaned this time, loving it, needing it, equally frustrated by the cloth that separated them.

Trailing his lips across her cheek, he licked and kissed his way down to the soft skin at the base of her neck. “Wrap both legs around me,” he whispered.

Krysta’s already racing heart went wild at the hoarse request. Without hesitating, she jumped up and wrapped her other leg around his hips.

A breeze whipped her as their surroundings blurred. Then she found herself in another bedroom. Very masculine. Very posh. Very neat for the bedroom of a longtime bachelor.

She met Etienne’s glowing gaze.

“I want to make love to you,” he stated boldly.

She swallowed hard and nodded. She wanted it, too.

“Call me crazy,” he added, “but I didn’t want to do it in front of your brother.”

Her eyes widened. “Oh, crap.” She had been crawling all over Etienne with Sean lying in bed just a few feet away. “How did you make me forget about him?”

He shook his head and strolled toward the bed, every movement creating lip-biting friction between their bodies. “I would have forgotten myself if my hearing weren’t acute enough to pick up his breathing and heartbeat.”

He stopped beside the bed.

Krysta lowered her legs to the floor and stood for a moment, staring up at him, her body tingling and aching for his touch.

“You can change your mind,” he murmured, so damned sweet and understanding it only made her want him more.

She shook her head. “I want this.” Again, she reached up and stroked his face, “I want you.”

For a moment, he looked so hungry for her she thought he might pounce.

Then a teasing gleam entered his luminous eyes. “Want to see a neat trick?”

Raising her eyebrows, she smiled. “Okay.”

He blurred. She felt a tug.

In a blink, they were both naked, clothing and weapons scattered around their feet.

He laughed. “I’ve never seen you so wide-eyed.”

“That is awesome!” she praised.

Grinning, he picked her up and tossed her onto the bed.

Krysta shrieked with delight as he dove after her.

“Shoes on or off?” he asked.

She laughed when she realized they both still wore their boots. “Off.”

Sitting up, he quickly doffed his own, then turned his attention to hers.

She liked this playful side of him. Liked the feel of his large, warm hands grasping her calf as he removed first one shoe, then the other.

His gaze roved her body, splayed out before him like a banquet, scorching her and making her squirm with the need to feel all of that hard, muscled flesh against her.

And, just like that, all levity was shoved aside by lust.

He peeled a sock off, kissed her ankle, lowered her foot to one side of him. Peeling the second sock off, he kissed that ankle and lowered her foot to the other side of him. He smoothed his hands up her calves, up her thighs, his thumbs coming so close to the heart of her.

Damn, she wanted him.

He growled, exciting her even more. “Now you’re the one projecting.”

Her breath caught as he rose above her and settled his big, warm body between her thighs.

Etienne wanted Krysta so badly he nearly shook with it as he palmed one of her breasts.

Lowering his head, he drew the hard tip of her other breast into his mouth, loving the feel of her writhing beneath him. His fangs descended, as they often did when he experienced strong emotion, but he was careful not to let them pierce her soft skin.

“Are you hearing my thoughts?” she asked, her small hands exploring his back and hips.

“Yes.” They fired his need as much as her touch did.

“Then you know what I want,” she gasped, burying her hands in his hair as he teased her nipple with his tongue.

Fast and hard.

The thought came through loud and clear.

Reaching down between them, he found her already wet and eager for his touch, arching up when his fingers found her clit.

Now, she insisted. Please, Etienne. I want you now.

Hell, yeah.

Positioning his cock at her entrance, he met her gaze and slowly pressed forward. An inch. Then another. And another. Slowly stretching her. Savoring the feel of her.

She groaned. “You’re killing me.”

He winked, struggling to maintain his tenuous hold on control. “But what a way to go.”

She laughed.

He plunged inside to the hilt.

Both gasped.

She was so warm and wet and tight.

“Am I hurting you?” he asked.

Krysta shook her head, catching the concern in his eyes as he gazed down at her. She hadn’t been with anyone in a long time and Etienne was big, but . . . “You feel so good,” she breathed.

He withdrew, almost leaving her entirely, then thrust again. Hard.

“Oh, yeah.” She slid her hands down that wide, muscled back and over his ass as he thrust again. “Yessss.”

He thrust again, sending sparks of pleasure dancing through her.

“Again,” she urged, wanting more, needing more.

And he gave her what she wanted.

“You are so fucking beautiful,” he murmured, taking her lips in a passionate kiss. “The things I want to do to you . . .”

“Tell me,” she panted, pleasure mounting.

He did. In explicit detail. Making blood rush to her face and her body burn hotter as he explored her flesh with his hands and that wicked mouth, continuing those long, deep thrusts until an orgasm ripped through her, stealing her breath and wringing a cry from her lips.

As her body continued to ripple with sensation, he stiffened above her and cried out with his own. Breathing hard, he closed his eyes and lowered his forehead to hers, those strong arms keeping the bulk of his weight off of her.

Her own chest rose and fell so fast one would think she had just run a marathon. Heart still pounding, peace sifting through her, Krysta was content to just lie quietly and enjoy the moment.

Her hands didn’t quite get the message, though. She couldn’t resist the need to slowly slide them up and down his back, loving the feel of all of that strength above her.

At last he raised his head. The amber glow in the eyes that met hers had lessened, allowing some of the brown to seep through.

He stroked her hair, both his touch and his expression tender. “Okay?”

She didn’t know if he was asking if she was okay physically—it had been a long time and he hadn’t exactly been gentle, giving her exactly what she had wanted—or if she was okay emotionally. But the answer to both was, “More than okay.”

He smiled and delivered a gentle kiss that stole her heart. Then he dipped his head and kissed her shoulder, where she had been shot.

Rolling them to their sides, he settled his head close to hers on the pillow.

His brow furrowed. “No lingering pain from your injuries?”

“No.” Which made her realize . . .

“What?” he asked, recognizing her unease.

She bit her lip. “Is it weird that we didn’t wash the blood off first?” Both had been wounded. And, though their wounds had been healed, smudges of dried blood remained where bullets and blades had marked them.

“No,” he responded, the lack of concern in his voice a relief. “The blood is ours and we’re both so accustomed to seeing it that it means little to us. And, on my part at least, I wanted you so badly that I could think of nothing else.”

She smiled. “Me, too.”

A teasing glint once more entered his light brown eyes. “If, however, it troubles you, I think there is only one thing we must do.”

“What’s that?” she asked with false gravity.

“Head in there . . .” he pointed to a door across the room that opened onto a bathroom.

“Okay.”

“Immerse ourselves in the cleansing waters of a whirlpool bath . . .”

“I’m liking it so far.”