“You’ll need lotion.” He carries me through the darkened home and up the stairs, bypassing my room and heading to the far end where he nudges open one of a set of double doors.
Lotion?
Then we’re inside his bedroom. I know it’s his because his scent washes over me, tantalizing and male. The furnishings are black and the chandelier all garnets, no diamonds or crystals. Like the rest of the home, the furniture is masculine and solidly beautiful, and completely lacking in personal touches.
His bed is huge. Much bigger than a king-sized bed, it stretches out from the far wall, covered in a heavy black coverlet with white pillowcases.
I jolt.
“Relax. I’m not going to bite you.”
I suck in a breath at the image.
He looks down. “Right now, anyway.”
The words spark interest inside me. Which makes no sense. So I fall back on my sparkling personality. “Guys like you can’t kiss. The smooch in the kitchen was a fluke.”
One dark eyebrow rises, and he halts in the center of the room. “Do tell.”
“You’re rich, beautiful, and sexy in a demon-from-hell kind of way. Women probably throw their panties at you when you walk by in a bar. You don’t have to try.”
Amusement filters through the lust still glittering in his eyes. “You think I’m beautiful? Have you hit your head?”
Oh, he’s definitely beautiful. My body is taut like a vibrating guitar string, and I know I should want to kill him. But the expression on his rough face somehow gives me courage. Or a hint of insanity. Could be either. I reach up and run my fingers through his thick hair. It’s softer than I expected. “Prove me wrong.”
He stills. We’re not moving, but his body just stops. His gaze drops. Then his mouth is on mine.
I expect finesse or brutality . . . and receive neither.
Instead, raw fire pours into me as his lips form over mine, taking me under. My eyelids flutter shut and I open for him, not that he’s giving me a choice. He drinks from me and I want to give him everything. My hand against his chest, I can feel the growl that rumbles up before it rolls into my mouth and down through my entire body, sparking nerves into exposed tendrils of sheer need.
There is no feeling in the entire world like this. There can’t be. The universe would burn down.
His hold tightens and I feel the bed at my back. When did we move? He deepens the kiss and I become lost again, his mouth taking me over as his body presses into mine. He’s hard everywhere I’m soft. His hands rip into my hair and he clenches, holding me in place with an erotic pain, taking everything he could ever want.
We’re both panting when he lifts his head and lets me breathe. My mouth feels swollen. Bemused, I stare up into his glittering eyes. His erection is pressed against me, right where I need him, and a stirring starts deep inside me.
“You are going to be mine, and it’s not to save your hymen from Cal.”
I want this. Oh, I shouldn’t, I know it’s wrong. He’s wrong, I’m confused, and this is too dark for anybody. But it’s something I want once before I go home. There’s no way I’m staying. “One night,” I whisper.
He rolls over to sit, grasping my hip and bringing me with him. Then I’m straddling him, my bare thighs on either side of his hard ones. “Your virginity is mine, but you will give it freely. Lie to yourself if you want and say you’re making a brief choice before marrying that moron. But it’s a lie, and deep down, you know it. I’m going to fuck you so hard nobody else will ever get deep enough again. It’s only you and me. But take your time, because the yes is coming from you.”
The erotic image bursts into my head, igniting even more lust. Wings flutter inside me, striking my abdomen and flashing down to my sex. I clench. My hair is all around us, and he grips a mass of it again, those dangerous fingers caressing my nape at the same time. His voice is so low it’s beyond guttural. “This is what’s going to happen. I’m heading into that bathroom to find lotion for your sore ass. Then I have to go take care of something. When I return, you can be waiting in this bed for tonight to be the night, or if you want more time to lie to yourself, go to your own bed, and tonight I’ll leave you alone. That choice is yours.”
The words riot through my brain. Then, against all rational thought, I press against him. Shock cascades from my clit to my breasts and I gasp.
He bites his lip hard enough I see blood. Even that is a turn-on.
With impressive control, considering the rod of steel I can feel in his pants, he lifts me off him and strides into the bathroom. I hear shuffling through drawers. Trying not to moan, I clench my thighs together and pull down the short skirt. The aquamarine band around my waist flashes blue light and I try to take comfort from it, but even those small crystals are burning.
He returns with a small bottle of lotion. “Found some.”
Jealousy, green and sharp, cuts through me. He has somebody else’s lotion in his bathroom?
He pauses, his gaze sweeping mine. “It was in a kit. I never have women here. Ever.”
How does he read me so well? And what the hell is a kit? I scramble to stand, hoping my legs hold me up.
“Turn around.”
I lift my chin, needing to find some courage. “No.”
He grasps my arm and twists me around, smacking me hard on my already punished butt. I cry out. “Rule Three. I’m done with the defiance.” He plants a hand between my shoulder blades and shoves my head to the bed. “Hold still.” Without giving me a chance to argue, he’s spreading lotion over my rear. I have to admit, it feels good. The cool calming of whatever is in there eases a bit of the pain. “This will keep you from bruising. Too much.” Then he tugs me around, sits me on the bed, and crouches in front of me.
My hair flips around and I push it out of the way. I feel like a lost rabbit in front of a mountain lion. Or a panther. Or something deadlier than either. Drawn by what can only be danger, I reach out and trace the hard contours of his face.
He draws in a breath. “The end result is absolute. But in this, and probably this only, you can determine the timing. Clear your brain because I won’t ever accept the lie that I forced you into this. Into us. Even if it takes an eternity for you to be honest with both of us.”
He’s right. My head is a ball of fuzz and my body a bastion of need. I hate that he’s being honorable for once.
He stands. “If you’re here when I return tonight, it’s for good—as long as either of us live, and if you’re here, it’s my way. Period.”
Since I don’t have a way, I can’t argue with that. But I do need to clear my head.
With one last, hard look at me, he turns and strides right out the door. A small part of me, one I should embrace, hopes that hard-on kills him. The other part, the one I won’t admit to anybody, hopes he brings it right back to me.
For now, I need a bath. Perhaps he has some healing salts in that kit.
