The Messenge (Iva and Nick) novel Chapter 419

Inferno II

The moment their lips met, the world outside ceased to exist.

There was only the heat of his body against hers, the taste of him on her tongue-something dark and addictive, like aged whiskey and forbidden fruit-the desperate, consuming need that pulsed through every fiber of her being.

Iva’s hands tangled in his dark hair, pulling him closer, and she moaned against his mouth as his weight pressed her deeper into the mattress.

The heat in her body was increasing with each passing moment, driving her crazy with need and longing.

Caleb kissed her like a man drowning-desperate, hungry, as if she were the air he needed to survive.

His lips moved over hers with a reverence that bordered on worship, tasting, savoring, memorizing.

His tongue traced the seam of her mouth, and when she parted for him, he groaned-a low, rumbling sound that vibrated through her chest and settled deep in her belly.

His hands began to move.

They started at her shoulders, his palms warm and rough against her bare skin, and traced a slow, deliberate path down her arms. His fingers brushed the sensitive inside of her elbows, and she shivered, a soft gasp escaping her lips. He smiled against her mouth-she felt the curve of it-and continued his exploration.

“I’ve dreamed of this,” he murmured against her lips, his voice rough with desire. “Every night. Every moment. You have no idea how long I’ve waited to hold you again.”

Iva’s heart clenched at his words, even as her body arched into his touch.

She didn’t remember him-couldn’t recall the moments he spoke of-but something inside her recognized him.

Something deep and primal that stirred awake at his touch, like a memory buried beneath the surface of her conscious mind, clawing its way toward the light.

“Then don’t wait any longer,” she breathed, her fingers working at the buttons of his shirt. They were small and stubborn, and her hands were trembling, but she persisted, driven by her need. She wanted to feel his skin against hers. She wanted to touch him, to taste him, to consume him the way he was consuming her.

He caught her wrists in his hands, stilling her movements.

“Not yet, slow down,” he said, his voice low and commanding. “I want to savor this. I want to memorize every inch of you. I’ve been without you for so long-I’m not going to rush.”

Iva wanted to protest, wanted to demand that he take her now, but the words died in her throat as he released her wrists and began to undress her.

He moved slowly, deliberately, his fingers brushing against her skin as he unfastened each button, each tie. He peeled away her dress with the care of a man unwrapping a precious gift, his eyes never leaving hers. The fabric whispered against her skin as it slid away, and she felt the cool air kiss her heated flesh.

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