Chapter 40

• She looked down at Nicholas, the tendons in his neck strained, the tip of his tongue peeking through his teeth, eyes darkened by lust—he was sexy as hell. His hands gripped her hips, muscles tensing as he held her, lifted her, and drove into her. She was climbing, spinning dizzily as pleasure washed over her. She gripped one of Nicholas’s hands on her hip, their fingers entwining, holding on. He moved his other hand to where they were joined, his thumb stroking her clit, manipulating it expertly.
• Her body quickened, her muscles clenched around Nicholas, and once again, she was thrown into a staggering oblivion. She cried out his name as a rapturous warmth overtook her, enveloped her, and pulled her under its all-consuming haze.
• “Christ, Annabelle,” Nicholas swore, sitting himself up without stopping his voracious tempo, taking control to allow her to lose herself in her orgasm. He wrapped his arms around her, strong biceps holding her tight, and brought his lips to hers in a devouring, soul-emptying kiss. The onslaught of sensations pulling at her from every nerve in her body was so overwhelming that her only comprehension was she was drowning in all that was Nicholas Kensington.