Back Wild Rain
Chapters (28)
  1. Cover
  2. Praise for the novels ofCHRISTINE FEEHAN
  3. Titles by Christine Feehan
  4. WILD RAIN
  5. Copyright
  6. Dedication
  7. CONTENTS
  8. Acknowledgments
  9. 1
  10. 2
  11. 3
  12. 4
  13. 5
  14. 6
  15. 7
  16. 8
  17. 9
  18. 10
  19. 11
  20. 12
  21. 13
  22. 14
  23. 15
  24. 16
  25. 17
  26. 18
  27. 19
  28. 20

There was such an intensity of love there, deep in the depths of his vivid green gaze. Desire and hunger burned in the background, but love shone like a bright light consuming her. He lowered his head slowly toward hers. That sensual movement caused her deepest core to react, an exquisite tightening of every muscle, a heat spreading through her to pool into a piercing ache at the junction of her legs.

His body bent over hers, yet his skin didn’t quite touch her, a breath of air between them, a breeze fanning the heat that made up their skin. Water slapped at their bodies, frothing from the beat of the falls as millions of droplets entered the pool to swarm around them, touching skin like fingers, stroking a river of sensation over them.

His lips just brushed hers. Gently. Tenderly. The merest touch, yet flames flickered and danced. Hot need rushed through her and spread to every vein, every cell. Rachael leaned closer, lifting her mouth to his. The tips of her breasts caressed his chest lightly, spread flames across skin, a flash point neither expected. Rachael sighed against his mouth, a soft submissive sound, as she opened her mouth to his. Took him inside her. Heat and fire and silk. Something moved inside of her. Recognized him. She felt her other self—rising. Not a takeover, rather a joining.

Rio deepened the kiss, cupping her face in his hands, sliding his fingers around to cradle the back of her head as he kissed her, and his other self rose up to merge with her. Sensation increased, every touch, every taste. The mist from the waterfall on their skin was a tongue touching, licking along their bodies.

Rachael gasped as sensual pleasure infused her, took her over, robbing her of breath, of thought. She leaned into him, rubbed her skin against his skin, wanting the tactile contact. When he lifted his head to take a breath, she lapped at the mist on his chest, her tongue following tiny beads down his belly. His hands moved over her, finding every spot that could make her cry out with passion, that would inflame her more.

Rachael melted into him, skin to skin, rubbing and caressing and needing to touch him, every square inch of him. There was never enough kissing, never enough tasting, and there would never be enough time to explore him the way she wanted before her body made urgent demands.

“You’re purring,” he murmured softly. “I love the way you purr when I touch you.” His mouth wandered down her throat, lingered in the inviting hollow there, drifted lower to taste the droplets of water running over her. His hands went lower, shaped her hips, smoothed over her buttocks to lift her off her feet.