Page 25 of Finding Her Heart
Regret and shame lurked, chucked into the corners like thunder waiting to detonate. Annabell knew she carried an inclination to define the ugliest things in life and set them as standards. But this morning, her Curse of Woe could not dull the intimacy and connection of sharing pleasure with him.
And there was more, they had just begun.
Warmth flared at the back of her neck, down her spine, to that spot low in her pelvis, quivering with the first flutters of desire. Clenching her thighs together, she panted to calm herself. Last night's satisfaction birthed a need for more.
White Eyes took her hands in his, encouraging her to stand. Forgetting herself, Annabell did. She hollered like a crazy woman when the pelt she used as a blanket fell to the floor, exposing breasts and backside, her stockings sagging at the knee in need of a wash.
White Eyes looked at her—no words. A need to cover up driving her, she went to get the damn cover back, but he stopped her. A hand on her shoulders, he pressed a bowl of water at her.
Annabell didn't know what he wanted, but she wouldn't stand there naked. There were Orki all around her. Men. She had never been this exposed in her life, not even with her brothers. Did he think she was just going to go around naked all the time?
Shoving the bowl back at him, it splashed across his middle, dripping onto his waist leathers. When he didn't grab it, the bowl clattered to the floor. She twisted around him, chasing the covering and the hope of modesty.
One of his hands closed around her throat before she moved a step, yanking her to him. Radiating heat, that giant paw stilling her breath, her hands fluttered uselessly at her sides and a squeak of distress escaped. A squeak like a little mouse. Now she knew what a mouse felt like, caught by a mousetrap and pinned down by the tail. He could crush the life from her with one hand.
Using a gentle squeeze, he drew her into him, bending so that his eyes burned into hers. Annabell faced an intimidating male wall, touching his wet abdomen to push him away. The muscles of his belly twitched.
Another mousy squeak escaped before she caught it. The intimacy from last night, and that wild lack of inhibition lingered under her surface more than she thought. Exposed, trapped in his fist, she felt none of the things that she should have. Where was her outrage? Where was her fire? Palpitations turned to throbbing from the pulse under his hand, spreading all over, down her chest to the tips of her nipples, over her belly and lower.
He squeezed his hand. Right there. Looking into her eyes, thick fingers at her pulse points, tipping her chin up. His brows narrowed, determined. Standing close enough that his breath puffed on her face, she inhaled the woodsy, natural scent. In the flickers of torchlight, his milk-white eyes revealed sparks of color, tiny bursts of gold and the faintest turquoise, bits of life, intelligence.
His thumb rubbed across her jaw. Reminding her of his hand on her face, his gentleness, the tapping at her lips. Annabell didn't deserve pleasure—people were dead—but that touch, that memory, the current unrelenting command in his eyes, added to the building desire in her woman's core. She bit her lip.
This Orki made her want.
His hand mimicked her inner clench, tightening, putting his fingers in just the right place to cut off her air and make it hard to breathe. Driving his point home, sending the message of his authority by taking her ability to breathe and holding it before giving it back.
Annabell knew what he wanted.
She didn't know what she wanted. Her body's response conflicted with all she knew to be true about herself. With no rumbly, gorgeous, warm noise, in total silence, she went weak and willing at a single touch. He stayed silent. His focus probed and commanded. The Orki male set off tingles and explosions to her pleasure zones with ease.
"Yes. Okay. I will stand here naked. I'll do what you want. I understand," she conceded.
He made that low throat sound deeper, longer, harsher than before, and it went straight through his hand into her neck, a direct line to the swelling woman's nub between her thighs.
Oh.
What was wrong with her?
"A fool is known by his folly,"Mama said.
This was foolishness. She was so wet there, uncomfortably plump. "Don't look at me, don't see."
She wasn't wearing clothes, but he saw, deeper than her heavy breasts, the curve of her hips. Or her too large behind. Exposed down to the soul in front of him, nothing could hide her from his relentless gaze. He claimed every revelation he found. When he let go of her, Annabell stood there, naked, a pulse beating in her center, her nipples tight and itchy in the air.
And she didn't move a muscle.
The other Orki moved around them. Somewhere in the cave, the protesting noise of other Peace River women, outraged and angry, burst out. Everyone washed whether or not they liked it, Annabell guessed.
He returned with a bowl of fresh water and pressed it back in her hands. Standing too close. Trapping her gaze, he undid the tie holding up his waist covering. He planned to wash his body, naked, right next to her, where she could see everything, touch any part of him she wanted.
Annabell had to stifle a moan. The Orki's lack of humanity had never bothered her. Rather, they were a beautiful curiosity. Powerful, muscular, masculine perfection. She couldn't look away.
He didn't want her to.
A storm flooded her, she was all lightning and thunder, ready to explode. She wanted to touch him. Smell him. Know him. Every part of him, but especially the thick, rising, hard rod that made him male.
These desires couldn't be natural. Perverse, the wrongness of this glared at her. Where was her respect for family? Where was her grief? They were dead. She lived. This was sick. She shouldn't want this.
