"Aphrodite's_Flame_040" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kenner _Julie_-_[Protector_04]_-_Aphrodite's_Flame_(V1.0)_[lit](multi-file html))

Chapter Thirty-seven

Izzy awoke in Mordi’s arms, a shaft of light peeking through the flimsy curtains to illuminate their intertwined bodies. She smiled and stretched, feeling a bit like a satisfied cat who’d just downed an entire plate of cream.
Happy. Content.
And all the happier because she felt the same feelings emanate from Mordi.
His eyes flickered, and she realized he was awake. “Hey,” she whispered. “Good morning.”
He reached out to stroke her cheek. She’d had plenty of warning now, and she’d managed to turn off her power. She didn’t need it, though, to know what he was thinking. It was right there in his eyes—deep satisfaction and a glimmer of male pride so apparent it made her giggle.
“What’s so funny?”
“You. The conquering male.”
He rolled over, propping himself up on an elbow. He reached out, then, with his free hand, and stroked her breast. Her nipple tightened under his erotic onslaught, longing for a more intense caress. She let her head fall back, and she moaned.
“Yeah,” he whispered. “I think conquering is a fair description.”
“Uh-huh.” It was the only sound she could manage, and Izzy closed her eyes and let herself fall back into the abyss of pleasure.
Mordi’s low chuckle teased her senses, and he shifted beside her. Gently, he slid his hand down her body, a slow, sensual journey.
Izzy kept her eyes closed, her body arching back of its own accord into his touch. She heard the rustle of the bedclothes as he shifted beside her, then another hand joined the first, so that he held her by the waist.
His hands were warm and large, and his thumbs met in the middle of her abdomen, stroking her bare skin and working their way down to her belly button.
At first, she felt only the heat of his hands on her, generating a fire in her belly that would surely grow to consume them. She writhed with pleasure, remembering with satisfaction just how fabulous that fire could be. Then the gentle caress of his fingers was joined by the soft press of his lips against her stomach. She gasped as his tongue joined the party, dipping into her belly button.
Sweet Hera, the man was going to drive her mad!
She reached down and buried her fingers in his hair, still keeping her eyes closed as she let the power of his touch carry her away. Her every nerve ending was on fire, her body a mass of heat and energy, and she could feel herself melting into the mattress—warm, languid, and satisfied.
His mouth moved farther south, and a desperate anticipation edged out her languid feeling. Mordi’s hands stroked her hips, then moved down over her thighs. His fingers splayed so that his thumbs caressed the inside of her legs. The touch was so maddening—close, but not quite there—she wanted to scream with frustration. She would have screamed, too, if his warm mouth hadn’t pressed against her in the most intimate of kisses, making her want to cry out with pleasure, not frustration.
He laved her, taking her just to the brink and then pulling away, teasing and gently tormenting her until she thought she’d go insane.
When she couldn’t stand it anymore, she begged.
He slid up her body and silenced her with a kiss, his hands stroking her side, brushing against her breast in a maddening caress.
“Do you want to lose yourself with me?” he whispered. “In the heat?”
She wasn’t sure she could manage a response, but somehow she whimpered an affirmation.
She had no idea what to expect. What she got was heaven.
Fire.
A tongue of fire caressed her body—hot, ticklish, but not burning. It was a conjured flame, entirely under Mordi’s control. It danced over her ankle, then crept up her leg, teasing the inside of her thigh. It skipped along, teasing her with a promise of pyrotechnics to come, and spread out along her smooth belly, moving slowly up to stroke her breasts until her nipples were so sensitive that even the air was torture.
All the while, Mordi lay beside her, his fingertips following in the wake of the blaze, watching the flame to ensure it never went out. The fire danced up over her lips, an erotic kiss of pure heat, then crept back down her body in a slow, sensual wave until it focused into a point of heat that slipped between her legs, infiltrating her core.
It no longer burned like a flame, but was a liquid heat, and she writhed as her body neared the boiling point. And then, just as she was about to explode, the fire expanded, emerged, spread out to envelop her entire body and Mordi’s. She found release then and there, and as the world shattered around her, she was safe in Mordi’s arms in a cocoon of fire.
Afterward, her body felt heavy and boneless, and she wondered if she’d ever fully recover. Beside her, Mordi kissed her ear and pulled her close, spooning her against him. She sighed, feeling warm and loved.
Loved?
She swallowed. He did love her. She could breathe deep and inhale the scent of it, and his love filled and warmed her.
But did she love him, too? She wanted him; she knew that much. She admired him, she craved him. He filled her heart and touched her senses. But how could she love .him—truly love him—with so many secrets hanging between them?
“Mordi?” His name emerged as a whisper.
“Hmmm?”
“I... I need to tell you something.” She drew a breath, intending to tell him about her dad, about why she so wanted Hieronymous to be on the up and up, but the words wouldn’t come. She wanted to tell him, really she did, but still she couldn’t bring herself to speak.
“Izzy?” He stroked her hair, his eyes filled with concern. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”
“I just... I just...” She took a breath. “I was just thinking about fathers. And how much I love mine.” She looked down, unable to meet his eyes. “And I wished you had a father you loved, too.” She shrugged. “That’s all.”
The lie came easily, but she couldn’t stop the tears. Because if she couldn’t tell him, that must mean she didn’t really trust him.

Chapter Thirty-seven

Izzy awoke in Mordi’s arms, a shaft of light peeking through the flimsy curtains to illuminate their intertwined bodies. She smiled and stretched, feeling a bit like a satisfied cat who’d just downed an entire plate of cream.
Happy. Content.
And all the happier because she felt the same feelings emanate from Mordi.
His eyes flickered, and she realized he was awake. “Hey,” she whispered. “Good morning.”
He reached out to stroke her cheek. She’d had plenty of warning now, and she’d managed to turn off her power. She didn’t need it, though, to know what he was thinking. It was right there in his eyes—deep satisfaction and a glimmer of male pride so apparent it made her giggle.
“What’s so funny?”
“You. The conquering male.”
He rolled over, propping himself up on an elbow. He reached out, then, with his free hand, and stroked her breast. Her nipple tightened under his erotic onslaught, longing for a more intense caress. She let her head fall back, and she moaned.
“Yeah,” he whispered. “I think conquering is a fair description.”
“Uh-huh.” It was the only sound she could manage, and Izzy closed her eyes and let herself fall back into the abyss of pleasure.
Mordi’s low chuckle teased her senses, and he shifted beside her. Gently, he slid his hand down her body, a slow, sensual journey.
Izzy kept her eyes closed, her body arching back of its own accord into his touch. She heard the rustle of the bedclothes as he shifted beside her, then another hand joined the first, so that he held her by the waist.
His hands were warm and large, and his thumbs met in the middle of her abdomen, stroking her bare skin and working their way down to her belly button.
At first, she felt only the heat of his hands on her, generating a fire in her belly that would surely grow to consume them. She writhed with pleasure, remembering with satisfaction just how fabulous that fire could be. Then the gentle caress of his fingers was joined by the soft press of his lips against her stomach. She gasped as his tongue joined the party, dipping into her belly button.
Sweet Hera, the man was going to drive her mad!
She reached down and buried her fingers in his hair, still keeping her eyes closed as she let the power of his touch carry her away. Her every nerve ending was on fire, her body a mass of heat and energy, and she could feel herself melting into the mattress—warm, languid, and satisfied.
His mouth moved farther south, and a desperate anticipation edged out her languid feeling. Mordi’s hands stroked her hips, then moved down over her thighs. His fingers splayed so that his thumbs caressed the inside of her legs. The touch was so maddening—close, but not quite there—she wanted to scream with frustration. She would have screamed, too, if his warm mouth hadn’t pressed against her in the most intimate of kisses, making her want to cry out with pleasure, not frustration.
He laved her, taking her just to the brink and then pulling away, teasing and gently tormenting her until she thought she’d go insane.
When she couldn’t stand it anymore, she begged.
He slid up her body and silenced her with a kiss, his hands stroking her side, brushing against her breast in a maddening caress.
“Do you want to lose yourself with me?” he whispered. “In the heat?”
She wasn’t sure she could manage a response, but somehow she whimpered an affirmation.
She had no idea what to expect. What she got was heaven.
Fire.
A tongue of fire caressed her body—hot, ticklish, but not burning. It was a conjured flame, entirely under Mordi’s control. It danced over her ankle, then crept up her leg, teasing the inside of her thigh. It skipped along, teasing her with a promise of pyrotechnics to come, and spread out along her smooth belly, moving slowly up to stroke her breasts until her nipples were so sensitive that even the air was torture.
All the while, Mordi lay beside her, his fingertips following in the wake of the blaze, watching the flame to ensure it never went out. The fire danced up over her lips, an erotic kiss of pure heat, then crept back down her body in a slow, sensual wave until it focused into a point of heat that slipped between her legs, infiltrating her core.
It no longer burned like a flame, but was a liquid heat, and she writhed as her body neared the boiling point. And then, just as she was about to explode, the fire expanded, emerged, spread out to envelop her entire body and Mordi’s. She found release then and there, and as the world shattered around her, she was safe in Mordi’s arms in a cocoon of fire.
Afterward, her body felt heavy and boneless, and she wondered if she’d ever fully recover. Beside her, Mordi kissed her ear and pulled her close, spooning her against him. She sighed, feeling warm and loved.
Loved?
She swallowed. He did love her. She could breathe deep and inhale the scent of it, and his love filled and warmed her.
But did she love him, too? She wanted him; she knew that much. She admired him, she craved him. He filled her heart and touched her senses. But how could she love .him—truly love him—with so many secrets hanging between them?
“Mordi?” His name emerged as a whisper.
“Hmmm?”
“I... I need to tell you something.” She drew a breath, intending to tell him about her dad, about why she so wanted Hieronymous to be on the up and up, but the words wouldn’t come. She wanted to tell him, really she did, but still she couldn’t bring herself to speak.
“Izzy?” He stroked her hair, his eyes filled with concern. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”
“I just... I just...” She took a breath. “I was just thinking about fathers. And how much I love mine.” She looked down, unable to meet his eyes. “And I wished you had a father you loved, too.” She shrugged. “That’s all.”
The lie came easily, but she couldn’t stop the tears. Because if she couldn’t tell him, that must mean she didn’t really trust him.