Redline Lover: Take Me, Lover, Book 1 Page 8

  A shudder ran through her whole body. For a frightening second, he thought she might burst into tears, but all she did was push out a breath and spin in his hold. Before he knew it, she was pressing a hard kiss to his lips. Desperate. Moist.

  Her hands scrabbled at his coat, opening it and shoving it off his shoulders. She yanked on the tie, almost choking him before she got it right, and whipped it through his folded collar with a loud, hot wisp.

  “Kris—”

  She grabbed his face and kissed him again, nipping at his lips and making that mewling whimper of need that did the strangest things to his chest. Made it tighten and ache to give her anything she needed. Worked like a charm this time, too, because he gave up trying to figure out what was going on. She wanted him. Needed him, just like he’d thought. He’d find out what was wrong after.

  David reached for her top, the little satin tie on one hip giving way instantly. The crossover style of the top meant he had to do the same thing on the inner flap before he could see the black satin camisole beneath. She’d been wearing these instead of a bra lately. Pretty, shiny things that outlined hard nipples and slid over her skin like water. He liked them. But right now the camisole was in the way.

  He bumped into the wall, smacking the back of his head on the lintel before he realized he’d been moving. She had her hands on his bare chest—when did she get the buttons undone?—and was pushing him toward her bedroom.

  This was new. She was never the aggressor in their sexual relationship. She liked slow seduction. Gentle approaches that generally led to complete, wild possession. Clearly, she wanted more this time, but it posed a problem when she wouldn’t stop pushing as he pulled on the sleeves. If she wanted things fast and rough, how was he to get her own shirt out of the way if she wouldn’t put her arms down to get it off?

  Easiest path between two points, he decided, reaching out to pick her up. She helped a lot, all but leaping into his hold so they could stagger toward the king-sized mattress. He fell backward onto her cushiony duvet, letting her sprawl over him. Not that she stayed that way long. She sprang back, bouncing off him and the bed to shimmy out of her skirt.

  “Hurry, David.”

  Her skirt dropped to the ground, followed quickly by the camisole she peeled over her head as if it were on fire. The simple black panties clinging to her hips came off and in a heartbeat were whipped away to places unknown. He was still working at the button on his cuffs, staring wide-eyed at the woman who’d somehow become an Amazon when he wasn’t looking. She stood proudly, her high, full breasts capturing his attention completely, the dusky rose tips looking darker and fuller in the streaming radiance from the skylight above. Her skin, skin he’d memorized with his eyes, fingers and mouth, was flushed with a soft pink color. Not with embarrassment, but excitement.

  No, need.

  He could still see it, something shadowy in her deep green eyes. Secrets. For a second, about as long as his mind was capable of maintaining thought, he wondered if he was making a mistake. But then Krista reached for the belt to his slacks and the thought obliterated. Cool hands undid the belt and the fly and before the second button of his cuff popped right off, she had her fingers around his erection.

  He forgot about the shirt entirely when she dipped her head and took him into her mouth.

  The wild magic that brought them together is nothing compared to what they find in each other’s arms.

  The Gripping Beast

  © 2006 Charlene Teglia

  A Sirens Story

  Lorelei Michaels, flamboyant lead vocalist of the all-female rock band The Sirens, has a passion for myths and legends. She just never expected to find herself actually living one.

  While touring with the band, a Viking armband with an interesting history and a design known as the gripping beast throws her into a time warp – full of Norsemen, macho attitudes and a lamentable lack of modern amenities.

  Upon seeing the strange, beautiful woman being auctioned off, Erik Thorolfsson was mesmerized. Until the slave trader put his hands on her. With a roar of rage and sword drawn, he charged forward to take that which he wanted for his own. But he discovers owning her isn’t enough, he has to make her his—for all time.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for The Gripping Beast:

  He caught her look, and to her surprise, looked slightly apologetic. "The saltwater stings, I know. But you will have fresh water to bathe in come morning."

  She halted in surprise. "Fresh water? Really? Then we're almost where we're going?"

  He caught her around the waist and pulled her along, guiding her back to the cargo hold and searching out another shirt for her to wear. "Really." He dropped the garment over her head and tugged it into place.

  "And where are we going?" Lorelei asked, curious.

  "Home."

  "Home." She shot him an exasperated look, but he was already turning away to dress himself. "Could you be a little more informative? Where is home?"

  "A farm on a fjord."

  She ground her teeth in frustration. "Of course. A fjord. Where else would a Viking live? I should have known."

  He gave her an even stare. "Home is where I say it is."

  "Oh, not the master-slave bit again," she protested. "All right, all right," she added when he started towards her. "I said I'd be reasonable, and I meant it. I'll toe the line. You may find this hard to believe, but I have no desire to find myself on the wrong side of your law. I'll do my best to be obedient."

  "You are right, I find this hard to believe," he grumbled, looking suspicious.

  She gave him a winning smile. "Don't worry. I'll get the hang of it, for as long as I need to. It isn't like I have to play slave girl forever."

  The suspicion in his face hardened into resolution and she got the distinct feeling that she'd said something wrong. "Uh, Erik?"

  He didn't answer. He just kept coming towards her. Nervous, she backed away until he had her pinned against the wall. He lifted her and spread her legs to stand between them, holding her up with his body. "You are my property," he informed her. "Do you understand? This is no game. I could take you now, and you would have no choice but to submit."

  "Really?" Deceptive innocence sweetened her voice. She could get free if she wanted to. He didn't know her weird workout was a form of self-defense. She thought about giving her little secret away and decided not to if she could avoid it. If it ever came to a real fight with him, she'd need the edge surprise would give her. She went with her instincts instead, trusting that she was right. He didn't want to hurt her, and he knew she was too sore to find sex anything but painful just then.

  "Okay, have it your way. I'll probably cry the whole time, and I won't be able to crawl, let alone walk afterwards, but you're bigger and stronger." She heaped guilt on his head and laid it on as thick as she dared. "You'll probably tear me, too. I'm too dry. I might bleed. It could take days or even weeks to heal, and you'd have to find someone else to screw, but you probably have enough slaves not to be too inconvenienced."

  He muttered curses against her hair, then lifted her to eye level. "Woman, cease your mockery. You tempt me to prove my point. Your pain would be small compared to what you invite with your endless taunting."

  "Erik, I said I'd behave. Either you believe me or you don't, but don't threaten me." She glared back at him, furious that he could be so callous after the tenderness he'd shown her. "If you're going to do it, then get it over with. But when you're finished, don't ever touch me again or I'll fight you with every ounce of strength in my body. And I'll hate you forever."

  "Forever is a long time."

  "Not as long as you might think. But if you insist on putting a limit on it, I'll hate you for a thousand years." As Lorelei spoke, the words came with a force that surprised her. She felt like she'd just given voice to an ancient curse. The words held the same power she used to sway a crowd during a concert to create the mood she desired, the nameless force that she shaped with her vocal cords and gave hei
ghtened structure to with musical composition.

  Be careful what you wish for…

  The dream warning came back to her in a rush and cold panic flooded her body. What if she catapulted back into the future right now? She would lose him forever. And as angry as he made her, as fiercely as they fought, she couldn’t bear the thought of never seeing him again.

  “I didn’t mean it!” she yelled and threw her arms and legs around Erik, clinging to him with all her strength. “I take it back! Erik, don’t let me go!”

  He stared down at her, not knowing what to make of her. One moment she defied him and vowed her hatred, the next she clung to him as if she couldn’t bear any separation.

  Words continued to spill out of her as she clutched him tighter. “I don’t know how the damn things work. What if they send me back right now? Like that movie with Christopher Reeve. He goes back in time and meets the perfect woman and they fall in love, and then he puts his hand in his pocket and touches a coin. Bam, he’s yanked back to his own time. And that’s it, they lost each other forever! What if it happened like that to us?”

  She made no sense. But she was truly distraught. Erik frowned and wondered how he could calm her fears when there was no reason to them.

  Moments before, he had been intent on carrying out his duty to teach her a lesson. The seriousness of her situation seemed to elude her. She treated her position as his slave as if it were a jest, something she could abide by or discard as it suited her. If it were only the two of them, she could do as she pleased. But at home, she would bear the full penalty of the law and her defiance of it would be no laughing matter. And now he wanted only to comfort her and take away her fear.

  But he had a duty, his mind protested. Was he to turn his back on his duty for her? His father was jarl. He had a duty to abide by the law and to see that all those under his responsibility did so as well. Better she suffer some discomfort now than the agony of real punishment that her insolence and refusal to acknowledge her enslaved state invited. He would spare her that.

  He remembered her voice, low and shaking with anger. "I will hate you for a thousand years."

  He had never before failed his duty. But he could not help the feeling, in spite of all logical reason, that he was failing her. He had thought to have her and fulfill his duty too. But as the days wore on and she failed to accept her role, his duty and his desire fought a war within him. If duty lay one way and his heart another, how was he to choose and keep his honor?

  One thing was certain. He lacked the will to let her go, even if he could be certain her freedom would not mean her demise.

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