The Daredevil. Kira Sinclair

watched her as she walked through the darkened, gilt-edged lobby heading for the elevator doors. The sway of her hips, the fall of her hair across her back. The way she glanced furtively behind her, those green-and-gold-shot eyes full of sensual mischief.

      His body was taut, his hands curled into hard fists to keep from reaching for her in the middle of the packed lobby.

      They stepped onto the elevator with a handful of other guests, far too crowded for his happiness. If they’d been alone…

      His eyes roamed down the length of Sabrina’s body. His muscles tightened at the thought that in a few minutes she’d be his…after six long years of waiting.

      His eyes met hers in the reflection of the polished gold doors; it was wavy and imperfect but he could still see the flare of awareness in the eyes that watched him back. Her skin flushed a delicate pink and her breasts lifted on an intake of breath.

      A chime jolted him, the doors slid silently open and Chase realized they’d finally reached their floor. With a hushed sigh of thanks, he swooped in to grasp her waist and carried her along with him into the deserted hallway.

      He couldn’t keep himself from touching her any longer. His mouth found the edge of her jaw and nibbled. His hands tightened on her hips, pulling her back into the cradle of his body. And the scent of her, innocent and yet somehow heady, took over his senses.

      He opened their door, Sabrina eagerly pushing against it to get inside. The bed was twenty steps away but it might as well have been a football field. He’d waited long enough for her and he couldn’t wait anymore.

      Grabbing her by the waist, he pressed her back against the nearest wall, kicked the door shut behind them and sank his teeth into the curve of her neck. She whimpered but didn’t draw away. Instead, she arched higher, silently asking for more.

      Sabrina tore at his clothes, popping buttons and ripping at zippers. She was just as mindless and eager as he was. And that realization sent him over the edge of control.

      Tearing at the shoulders of her sweater, he relished the give of material as fastenings gave way and the cotton fell to the edges of her elbows.

      Her nails raked down the wall of his chest, sending his muscles dancing with pleasure. One of her legs wrapped around his hip as he trailed his mouth down the center of her body. She was soft and silky, feminine and perfect, a sharp contrast to the wild, burning urges coursing through his blood. He latched onto one erect nipple through the dark blue satin of her bra. He wanted to take it off, to feel her skin against his tongue and lips. But that would have required letting her go.

      For now he contented himself with forcing the hem of her skirt up around her waist and finding the heat of her sex, hot, wet and swollen for him.

      He groaned, a tortured sound in the back of his throat that died as her hand wrapped tight around his aching cock.

      She squeezed and stroked, splintering his thoughts into mindless, numbing pieces. Her head rolled back against the wall as she arched into his own penetrating touches.

      Her eyes glittered at him, jagged and deep, an earthy green. Knowledge and possession. She knew exactly what she was doing to his body as her fingers teased his rigid flesh. She pulled a condom from somewhere, ripped open the package and rolled it with agonizing slowness down his throbbing cock.

      She was a witch. There was no denying it. He’d never been this hard, this delirious, this lost in his life.

      But he had power of his own, a confidence that he could bring her to her knees with a single-minded assault on her senses. He’d seen her reaction to him, the way her eyes had watched him in the reflection of that elevator. He knew they’d had a connection six years ago…and it had only gotten stronger.

      His thumb rolled against her clit as his fingers worked the sweet spot hidden inside her body. Her breath caught in her throat, finally releasing in a stuttered moan.

      Her fist tightened around him and her caresses increased to a delirious rhythm.

      “Not yet. Not yet.” He wanted this moment to last longer. He’d waited too long for it to be over in a frenzied rush.

      “No. Now, Chase. Now.”

      Her panted plea was his undoing. Without another thought, he thrust inside her, relishing the tight, wet feel of sliding home.

      Her body tensed for half a breath before going liquid in his arms. She wrapped her ankles around his back, locking them both in place. Her heels dug into his thighs spurring him on to a quicker pace.

      Her hips rocked against him, in perfect tune with his own rhythm and needs. Faster, stronger, harder, they both rode until finally he felt her inner walls begin to pulse and contract around him. A jagged cry fell from her parted lips.

      That small miracle was all he needed to send him over the edge, the world graying to black on the guttural sound of his own release.

      It was several minutes before he realized that his eyes were closed, before his body could draw in enough oxygen that his brain began to fire again. Opening his eyes, he looked down into Sabrina’s green gaze.

      “That was sure as hell worth waiting for.”

      The sound bubbled up from somewhere deep inside her. Laughter burst out with the same abandon he’d witnessed moments before. His chest tightened at the sound. He liked it.

      Gathering her into his arms, he carried her over to the bed and carefully placed her in the center before slipping into the bathroom.

      She was right where he’d left her when he returned a minute later. He couldn’t help but stare down at her. She looked amazing, honey-blond hair falling down around her face in a riot of curls. She usually kept it ruthlessly under control. Just like everything else in her life. At least she always had before. He supposed he really didn’t know her anymore…if he ever had. But somehow, she seemed different. Free. Happier than she had six years before.

      She was absolutely lethal to his sanity this way.

      Her clothes were a mess, half on and half off. It didn’t matter. Her eyes glowed with knowledge, sensuality, power. Her skin was still pink from his mouth and hands, and her lips curved ever so slightly into a knowing smile.

      “What’s that?” She pointed across the room to a table in the corner. Turning, he spied the bottle of champagne and single tier of cake covered in delicate white frosting.

      “Every wedding needs champagne and cake.”

      Shedding the rest of his clothes, he walked across the room and poured them both a glass. Picking up the bottle, the cake and both champagne flutes, he headed back to her. Chase handed her a drink, clinking his own to hers. “To life.”

      With an impish grin she countered, “To Elvis.”

      In retaliation he let the cold bottle in his hand slip just far enough that the bottom rim connected with the upper swell of her breast. She drew a hiss through clenched teeth but didn’t move away from the contact.

      Setting everything onto the dresser, he reached for her, removing what was left of her clothes before picking the bottle back up.

      He started at her neck, pressing the cold glass there, rolling it against her nape for nothing more than the sheer pleasure of her response.

      Her nipples were already puckered but as soon as the bottle touched their tips they drew into the tightest buds he’d ever seen. Reaching down, he touched the center with the tip of his tongue, enjoying the feel of her icy skin against his hot mouth.

      He couldn’t resist the urge to suck her inside, to take the full swell of her breast into his mouth. She arched against him, jostling the chilled bottle into contact with his own skin and drawing a gasp at the sensation.

      Pulling back, he tipped the neck above her body and let a stream of the bubbling wine pour onto her skin. The golden liquid rolled down a path between her breasts, a single drop pooling at the dip of her navel.

      Letting