made him irresistible.
Closer…closer… Yes, contact. Oh, great gods! She glided her hands over his chest, luxuriating in the feel of his nipples as they reached for her, savoring the ropes of strength that greeted her. “They turn me on.”
“Liar,” he said.
“Sometimes,” she admitted, “but not about this.” She studied his face. However he’d gotten the scars could not have been pleasant. He’d suffered. A lot. The knowledge suddenly angered her as much as it entranced her. Who had hurt him and why? A jealous lover?
Looked like someone had taken a blade and carved Lucien up like a melon, then tried to put him back together with the pieces out of order. Still, most immortals healed quickly, leaving no evidence of their injuries. So even if he had been carved up, Lucien should have healed.
Did he have similar scars on the rest of his body? Her knees weakened as a new tide of arousal flooded her. She’d watched him for weeks, but she hadn’t gotten a single peek at his delectable form. Somehow, he’d always managed to bathe and change after she left.
Had he sensed her and kept himself hidden?
“If I didn’t know better, I would think you were Bait, as my men do,” he said tightly.
“And what makes you know better?”
He arched a brow. “Are you?”
Had to venture down that road, did you? If she assured him she wasn’t Bait, she would seem to be admitting that she knew what Bait was. She thought she knew him well enough to know that, in his eyes, the acknowledgment would negate the claim that she wasn’t. He would then feel obligated to kill her. If she claimed that she was Bait, well, he would still feel obligated to kill her.
Total lose-lose.
“Do you want me to be?” she said in her most seductive tone. “’Cause I’ll be anything you want, lover.”
“Stop,” he growled, that ever-calm mask loosening its hold on his features for the briefest of moments and revealing a stunningly intense fire. Oh, to be burned. “I do not like this game you are playing.”
“No game, Flowers. I promise you.”
“What do you want from me? And do not dare lie.”
Now, there was a loaded question. She wanted all of his masculinity focused on her. She wanted hours to strip and explore him. She wanted him to strip and explore her. She wanted him to smile at her. She wanted his tongue in her mouth.
At this point, only the last seemed achievable. And only by playing unfairly. Good thing Devious was her middle name.
“I’ll take a kiss,” she said, gazing at his soft, pink mouth. “Actually, I insist on a kiss.”
“I didn’t find any Hunters nearby,” Reyes said, suddenly standing beside Lucien.
“That doesn’t mean anything,” Sabin replied.
“She’s not a Hunter and she is not working with them.” Lucien’s attention never wavered from her as he waved his friends back. “I need a moment alone with her.”
His assurance stunned her. And he wanted to be alone with her? Yes! Except his friends stayed put. Jerks.
“We are strangers,” Lucien told her, continuing their conversation as if it had never ceased.
“So? Strangers hook up all the time.” She arched her back, pressing the core of her into his erection. Mmm, erection. He hadn’t lost it, was still aroused. “There’s no harm in a little bittie kiss, is there?”
His fingers sank into the curve of her waist, holding her still. “You will leave? After?”
His words should have offended her, but she was too caught up in the tide of pleasure that simple embrace elicited to care. All of her pulse points began a wild dance. A strange, luscious warmth fluttered inside her stomach.
“Yes.” That’s all she could have from him, anyway, no matter how much she desired more. And she’d take it any way she could get it: coercion, force, trickery. She was tired of imagining his kiss and craved the reality of it. Had to have the reality of it. Finally. Surely he would not taste as amazing as she dreamed.
“I do not understand this,” he muttered, eyes closing to half-mast. Dark lashes cast shadows over his jagged cheeks, making him appear more dangerous than ever.
“That’s okay. I don’t, either.”
He leaned into her, hot, floral-scented breath scorching her skin. “What will a single kiss accomplish?”
Everything. Anticipation beating through her, she traced the tip of her tongue along the seam of her lips. “Are you always this talkative?”
“No.”
“Kiss her, Lucien, before I do. Bait or not,” Paris called with a laugh. Good-natured as the laugh was, it was still edged with steel.
Lucien continued to resist. She could feel his heart beating against his ribs. Was he embarrassed by their audience? Too bad. She’d risked everything for this, and she wasn’t about to let him back out now.
“This is futile,” he said.
“So what. Futile can be fun. Now, no more stalling. Only doing.” Anya jerked his head down to hers and smashed her lips against his. His mouth instantly opened, and their tongues met in a deep, wet thrust. There was an intense rush of heat through her as the addictive flavor of roses and mint bombarded her.
She pressed deeper, needing more of him. All of him. Plumes of fire infused her entire body. She rubbed against his cock, unable to stop herself. He fisted her hair, taking complete control of her mouth. Just like that, she was caught in a whirlwind of passion and thirst only Lucien could quench. She’d entered the gates of heaven without taking a single step.
Someone cheered. Someone whistled.
For a moment, she felt as if her feet were swept off the ground and she was without any kind of anchor. A moment later, her back was shoved against a cold wall. The cheers had somehow suddenly died. Frigid air nipped at her skin.
Outside? she wondered. Then she was moaning, unconcerned, and winding her legs around Lucien’s waist as his tongue conquered hers. One of his hands crushed her hip in a bruising grip—gods, she loved it—and the other tunneled through her hair, fingers once again curling tightly around the thick mass and angling her head to the side for deeper contact.
“You are—you are—” he whispered fiercely.
“Desperate. No talking. More kissing.”
His control vanished. His tongue thrust back inside her mouth, their teeth banging together. Passion and arousal were a hot blaze between them, a raging inferno. Truly, she was on fire. Frantic. Achy. He was all over her, already a part of her.
She never wanted it to end.
“More,” he said roughly, palming her breast.
“Yes.”
