Dark Flame by Caris Roane Page A

sex with Brannick. She came while kissing him, his hips pistoning so fast it was like a vibration inside her body. She held Brannick’s hand over her mouth as ecstasy arrived in a hot wave, her cries muffled against his palm.
    He held his own roars down to a soft series of shouts. He clung to her afterward, holding her tight against his body.
    Heaven.
    When his breathing had finally settled down, he drew back and kissed her, thanking her profusely. She returned with her own repeated expressions of gratitude and wondered if two people had ever said ‘thank you’ so much after sex.
    He washed her afterward, a gentle act that reminded her again of all that he was as a man and a lover. Brannick had an amazingly tender side. For such a big man, his touch could feel like a soft sweep of feathers.
    Once she finally left the shower, she dried off then wrapped herself up in a towel. She brushed out her hair, restyling all her long curls in the messy configuration that worked best for her. Most of it was pinned to the top of her head and left to cascade with a few loose strands dangling down her back and a couple over her shoulders. With her curly hair, she’d given up having a more controlled look a long time ago.
    While she finished up, Brannick put his clothes on. Afterward, he settled a hip on the marble sink and watched her. His dark hair, wet from the shower and combed straight back, accented the clean, handsome planes of his face. She put on a little mascara, made use of an eyebrow pencil, because her brows were just a little too thin, then touched some pink gloss to her lips.
    “You’re beautiful.” His rich voice rolled through her, sending a shiver all the way to her toes. He reached over and touched her throat. “Are you feeling okay? Your skin is still red, though the puncture wounds have sealed.”
    She caught his hand and met his gaze. “I feel wonderful.”
    Still, he frowned. “Not dizzy? I took quite a bit.”
    She stood up a little straighter and weaved around on her feet, testing herself, then looked up at the ceiling.
    She was smiling as she glanced back at him. “Not even a little. But you know the worst part of what we just did?”
    She didn’t miss the dart of concern that shot through his eyes. “What?”
    She felt guilty about teasing him. “That I want to do it again so bad I can hardly stand it. How is that possible? You just took me to the heavens and back, and I want more. Guess I’m greedy.”
    He smiled, and his shoulders lost some of their tension.
    With his hip still on the sink and one boot planted on the floor, he grabbed her around the waist and drew her close, settling her between his legs. “I know what you mean. I’d love to take you to bed and keep you there for a long time.”
    He kissed her, and she forgot all about her make-up and hair. She relaxed against him, sliding her arms around his neck and holding him tight.
    Things heated up again so that when a loud rap sounded on the door, it took a moment to remember where she was.
    She drew back, but didn’t take her arms from around his neck. “What is it?”
    Fergus’s rough voice returned. “Sorry to bother you, Juliet, but your phone was ringing and Roche’s name came up on the screen. Wanted you to know.”
    She drew back from Brannick, her chest tightening. She called out once more. “Roche texted me?”
    “’Fraid so. Something about a woman named Mary.”
    She put a hand to her mouth and met Brannick’s gaze. He eased her away from him, then lifted up off the sink, his brow growing pinched once more.
    She called out to Fergus. “We’ll be right there.”
    “I’ll be on the canal patio.”
    She dropped the towel, but didn’t look at Brannick. She put her thong and bra back on, then slid her dress over her head so fast, she displaced half her curls. She took a moment to straighten the worst of the lot, slid into her sandals then headed to the door.
    Brannick followed her, a hand at the small of her back. Once in