It was his turn to have her flat on her back. Tanner crushed her into the mattress. He didn’t have to worry about a Death Touch now. She wasn’t going to lose control.
Maybe it was time he did.
“I know what you’re gonna do.” His mouth was so close to hers. Less than an inch away. So close he could already taste her.
“Wh-what?”
“Live.” It was time that his angel learned what life was really about. Not just pain and fear and rage.
Lust. Need.
Pleasure.
He kissed her.
CHAPTER FIVE
Marna wasn’t prepared for the lick of fire that seemed to ignite within her body when Tanner kissed her. Part of her knew that she should shove him away, but her hands weren’t listening to that part. Instead, her hands were wrapping around his broad shoulders and pulling him closer.
She’d never kissed a man . . . until him. Death angels didn’t kiss. They didn’t caress.
They only touched to kill.
For her kind, what was the point of touching? Angels didn’t yearn. They didn’t need. They didn’t lust.
At least, they didn’t until they fell. Then all of the human emotions and needs slammed into them.
Lust. She was sure lusting right then.
Tanner had been the first man to kiss her, and when she’d felt that initial touch of his lips against hers, she’d wanted more.
“Don’t be afraid of me,” he whispered against her mouth.
Fear was the last thing she felt right then. Her ni**les were so tight they ached, and her body was rubbing against him because she felt so . . . restless.
Aching.
Needing.
“Kiss me back,” his rough order.
Her tongue moved against his. Her lips opened wider, and she tasted the shifter.
Her legs were parted, and she could feel the heavy press of his erection against her. Tanner wanted her. Maybe that should have scared her. It didn’t. It made her feel . . .
Powerful.
Sexy. She’d never felt sexy before. But Tanner wanted her, so she had to be sexy to him.
His hand flattened over her stomach. The ache between her legs grew sharper, and Marna lifted her hips up against him. His fingers—a little rough, so strong—rose and covered her bra.
She didn’t want him touching the bra. Marna wanted his hands on her br**sts.
His mouth. What would it feel like if he licked her nipple? Sucked the aching flesh?
Her heart was racing, her body quivering, and she knew this was wrong. She should stop but . . .
Humans enjoyed sex so much. They lied, stole, even killed for their fleeting pleasure.
She’d never tasted pleasure. She knew too much about pain.
I want my taste.
Growing bolder, Marna sucked against his lower lip. Tanner growled. She liked it when he growled. The sound was wild, and that was just the way he made her feel.
Her nails dug into his shoulders.
Then his hand was sliding beneath her bra, and his fingers stroked her tight nipple. The first touch of his hand had her hissing out a breath.
Tanner stilled.
The drumming of Marna’s heartbeat echoed in her ears. Tanner lifted his head. She could see the power of his beast reflected in his eyes. His face was harder, sharper, and there was no missing his lust.
For me.
“I want . . .” Were those words really hers? That husky, hungry voice—hers? Yes. “I want your mouth on me.”
His pupils expanded. “Baby, all you had to do was ask.” Then his dark head lowered. His breath rasped over one eager breast and then she felt—
His tongue. Sliding over the nipple. Easing over the peak. Her heels dug into the mattress even as a ragged moan escaped from her.
A hot current seemed to streak from her breast to her sex. She was aching, empty, and her hips tilted up so she could better rub her sex against his cock.
The friction just intensified the ache. Pleasure waited, tempting her, just out of reach.
He sucked her nipple. Scored her flesh with his teeth.
The ache built. Her eyes squeezed shut. She couldn’t seem to draw in a deep breath.
Then he began to stroke her other breast. The sensual touch had her jerking beneath him, and she realized that her panties were wet.
“So damn beautiful.”
His growled words made her eyes open. She’d never thought about beauty much before. Yet he made her feel beautiful right then.
Feeling beautiful—that just wasn’t enough. Her body seemed too hot, her heart raced too fast, and she wanted the pleasure that was so close.
Her hands slid over his chest. Her touch was slower than his had been. Far less certain. But as she touched him, his body stiffened against her, the muscles clenching.