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  • Home > Lora Leigh > Lion's Heat     

    She was there for him. The hormone spilled into her and was taken eagerly as he lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bedroom.

    Stripping them both of the clothes separating them took little time. Her gown tore as he jerked at the small buttons at her waist. It pooled at her feet as he worked his pants loose and toed his shoes from his feet. Shedding the pants and shirt, he pulled her to the bed, his lips slanting over hers, his tongue thrusting into her mouth, retreating, filling it again as he moved between her thighs, desperate to have her.

    As the touch of her, the taste of her, filled his senses, the ache at the back of his neck began to recede and the heaviness that had filled his soul began to ease.

    As he gripped his c**k and pressed it against the soft heat of her pu**y, he felt renewed. As he began working inside her, he felt the hunger to simply live begin to ease. She was his life, his heart, his soul.

    Lifting his head, he stared into her eyes as he took her. Inch by inch, slowly working his erection inside the tight grip of her pu**y as he felt her filling his soul.

    Never had pleasure been so great. Never had anything in his life brought him peace until this woman--until he looked into her eyes and sensed the woman created for him.

    "My heart," he growled as he slid in to the hilt, felt her heated muscles rippling around his c**k as her arms tightened around his shoulders and a gasp of pleasure whispered around him. She was burning in his arms now, and nothing mattered but throwing himself into the flames with her.

    Gripping her hip with one hand, he began to move inside her. Deep and hard, he f**ked her with a desperate, blinding hunger, a need to hold himself inside her forever, to fly with her, to feel her coming apart in his arms.

    When the explosion came, it was more than flying. It was floating, surrounded by a sea of such incredible sensation that nothing else mattered. Locked inside her, the barb pulsing, heating, driving her pleasure higher as he watched her shudder, watched her eyes become unseeing and heard her cry his name with such satisfaction that it vibrated through his soul.

    This was home.

    Where the heart was.

    Later, as she slept, Jonas pulled on his sweatpants and padded silently to their daughter's room. He had thought to catch her sleeping. She was a baby; if she wasn't eating, then she normally wanted her mother, and voiced that desire loudly.

    She wasn't sleeping. She was staring up at the mobile above her crib, her gaze almost thoughtful as the little fairies that Cassie had gifted her with twirled in the slight breeze created by the central air system.

    Her green eyes were dark like her mother's, while the shape of her face was more similar to her aunt's. The curve of her nose was pure Rachel.

    Reaching in, he picked her up and placed her against his chest before moving to the living room and standing in front of the window. Turning the baby, he let her watch the snow as it piled high beyond the window.

    "I'll protect you," he promised as he cuddled her close in his arms. "With my last breath, I'll protect your mother and you, Amber."

    He felt her then. Her mother. Rachel moved from the bedroom and joined them, watching the snow as it fell in fat, lazy flakes, piling on the ground.

    "Brandenmore did something, didn't he?" she asked softly as he curved an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close.

    "I'll find out what he did," he swore as he watched her expression in the window, saw the fear that flashed in her eyes.

    "She'll be okay," she stated. "Cassie's certain of it." She lifted her face to him. "Is she ever wrong?"

    Jonas shook his head. "She's never wrong." But sometimes, she wasn't exactly right.

    One thing was certain: The future, and their child's happiness, was now in the hands of one of their greatest enemies. And Jonas was damned if that sat well with him.

    "Jonas?" Rachel turned in his hold and stared up at him, her hand settling against her daughter's small arm. "Whatever happens, we're together and I love you. Forever."

    And suddenly the world was that much brighter.

    "You're my treasure," he touched her lips gently, "forever, Rachel."

    Catching her hand, he drew her with him as he laid Amber in the crib and took his mate back to bed.

    No one heard the small sound that was made after their bedroom door closed: a soft, sweet, kittenish little purr.

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