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Her tongue dueled with his, fighting for dominance. And their teeth clacked together as their heads moved. It wasn’t the most graceful first kiss he’d ever had. But it was by far the hottest. He tightened his grip, keeping her head still so he could pull back a little. He traced her bottom lip with his tongue, groaning from the breathless, needy sound she made. The gun was still between them, and it would take nothing more than a twitch of her finger to go off. Abel, Salvatore, and Morrigan would have lost their shit at him. But his lust was overriding his common sense, and he delved back in for another kiss rather than disarming her.
Eventually, she wrenched her head back, her chest rising and falling with her rapid breaths. Her pupils were blown, and her cheeks were flushed. Her lips were swollen and wet. And her hair was a mess from his hands. He wanted to fuck her. Here. Now. But there was that look again, that vulnerable, pain-filled look that had him cursing and telling his cock to stand down. She was dangerous. In more ways than one.
“You know, I want to kill you as much as I want to save you,” he confessed. “I can’t have someone with your power walking around.” He wasn’t just referring to the knowledge she had about them, but he didn’t elaborate.
She raised her chin, looking every inch a queen. “I don’t need saving.”
“Oh, Angel...” He dipped his head, running his nose along her cheek and under her jaw, placing a gentle kiss on the fluttering pulse in her neck. “You need saving more than anyone else I’ve ever met.” He knew it was the truth.
“You’re wrong,” Angela refuted. “And I told you not to call me Angel.”
“But it suits you,” Roman told her, his gaze dipping to her ample cleavage. He swore when the ivory satin fell off her shoulder, revealing a dusky, pebbled nipple. “You’re fucking naked.”
Angela looked down, noting the way the robe had parted, but made no move to correct it. “And?”
He swore again, more viciously this time because her lack of action was a crystal-clear invitation. “You have no sense of self-preservation at all, do you?” he asked.
“I’m the one with the gun,” she reminded him. “I’d say I’m doing okay.”
“Ah, but you’re not going to use it. Are you?” Roman pressed. He reached out, running the back of his hand down the slope of her breast, and stopped right above her nipple. “You’re a glutton for punishment. Just like me.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she replied. But she finally brought one shaking hand up and pulled her robe back into place.
“You do,” he retorted. “I used to have the same danger-seeking habits. It never ended well,” he warned. Her eyes raked over him like a physical caress, and his cock jerked hard in his slacks, precum already leaking from the tip. “Angel...”
She shrugged, admitting it as if it was no big deal. “It’s a coping mechanism.”
“The danger-seeking? I’m well aware,” he promised. “Been there. Done that. I was a pain whore once, too. It helped—for a time.”
Her eyes shot to his, her tongue darting out to moisten her lips. “What did you do?”
He thought about not answering, already knowing he was on shaky ground. Admitting such intimate things to a virtual stranger—one who was holding a gun, no less—was idiotic at best and deadly at worst. But he decided to push both their limits by reaching slowly for the button on his slacks.
He flicked it open, watching her hand remain steady even as her eyes followed his movements. He lowered the zipper, freeing his hard dick. It wasn’t every day he went commando, but he was glad he had chosen to do so that morning. “Exhibit A,” he said roughly.
Angela’s eyes widened, and her mouth dropped open. “What is that?”
He knew exactly what she was referring to—the jewelry impaling his cockhead. “It’s called a magic cross.”
“Magic... cross?” she repeated slowly.
Roman loved the way her voice deepened. He hefted his erection, fingering the two curved bars at the end. One went down vertically through his glans, and the other was horizontal, giving it an appearance of a cross. It had been a spontaneous, youthful act back when he craved pain in all its forms. He’d received it with the piercing, that was for sure. It had been extremely unpleasant, and the healing time was a real bitch. However, he was more than happy with the end result. It felt damn good—and not just to him. His lovers always seemed more than satisfied with the added stimulation.
“Two piercings, four holes in total,” he elaborated. “The shape of it is why it’s called a magic cross. And no doubt because of all the magic it makes happen.”
Angela tore her gaze away for a moment, meeting his eyes. “Really?” she asked drolly.
Roman grinned. “Mi scusi. I do love a good pun.”
“Uh-huh,” she said with a small shake of her head. “Put it away now.”
“Are you sure that’s what you want?” he murmured, stroking himself from root to tip. Her eyes locked onto his hand as if pulled by a magnet. “I could put it in you instead. I’ll even let you keep your gun.”
“And then what?” Angela wanted to know.
He shrugged, playing with the metal bars, hissing from the pleasure it wrought. “Then I leave, and you can pretend it never happened,” he said, though it annoyed him a little. “Come on, Angel. Take out some of that anger and aggression you have swirling around inside of you on me. Use me.”
“And what will you be doing?” she asked.
