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She wanted him.
She had never wanted a man in her life. She had thought that part of herself must have surely died in the wreck when she was fifteen. Before then, there had been very little interest in the opposite sex. Afterward, there had been none.
Until Stygian.
“I hate this,” she suddenly whispered as her fingers curled against the powerful muscles of his chest, desperate to keep herself from ripping at his body.
“Hate what?” His free hand cupped her face, his thumb brushing against the plump curve of her lower lip then.
Oh, he knew what. She could see it in the sudden intensity of his gaze, feel it whipping through the air between them and torturing them both with the hungry need for it.
As her tongue swiped over the painful dryness of her lips, it licked over the tip of his thumb. The sudden, explosive taste of salty male flesh rushed through her senses, overtaking them for one destructive second.
“I’ve never wanted—” Her breathing hitched painfully. “I never wanted this, Stygian. I didn’t want to be torn apart like this. To be destroyed by something I couldn’t control or teased by a man who’s far too aware of my weaknesses.”
She couldn’t bear it. To be played with. To ache an
d to want, to hunger for something and have no name to give to what she hungered for.
To her, it was the worst possible tease.
“Tease you?” His voice was suddenly rougher, grating as he wrapped one arm around her back and pulled her closer. “I’d never tease you, Liza. I promise, I’m entirely, wholeheartedly serious about this. About you.”
His head lowered and his lips touched hers.
She was shaking. Like a leaf in the storm and any other cliché that slipped through her suddenly too-alert brain.
Shudders of reaction began tearing through her as her lips parted and his settled more firmly against them, opening them, owning them.
His tongue swiped over her lips, flicked past them and licked over her tongue.
Suddenly, she knew what Isabelle had meant. His kiss was like a summer rainstorm, lightning and thunder chaos clamoring through her system as the taste of summer heat rushed through her senses.
His lips slanted over hers, his hands pulling her closer as the feel of his erection pressing against her stomach had her tilting her hips and arching to meet him.
Blood thundered through her veins, the fiery need spreading through her body, clamoring for more, burning away any objections she could have made.
Desire burned through her in ways she couldn’t have anticipated. It sizzled across her flesh, sensitizing it, creating a receptive base for each touch he should deign to stroke across it.
And she wanted each touch.
His tongue flicked across her lips, teasing and heating them. She licked against it, loving that wild, stormy taste. Then it sank between her lips once again, giving her only seconds to close her lips over it, to contain the taste filling her system before it retreated once again.
Oh God, the pleasure was exquisite.
Her nipples hardened furiously. The pressure of her bra against the sensitive tips was almost agony, so she took it off.
It wasn’t the fabric she wanted touching her. It was his hands, his fingers. She wanted the feel of his flesh against hers creating that roughened, electric pulse of sensations that raced across her skin.
She ached for it.
She had to get closer.
Twining her arms around his neck, she arched to him, and still it wasn’t enough.
“I can’t touch you like this,” she whimpered, pulling at his shirt as he released her lips for only a second. “I need to touch you more, Stygian.”
So much for not being that kind of girl.
