Lover Awakened (Black Dagger Brotherhood #3)(43)

He checked himself in the mirror. Smoothed his hair down a little. Took a deep breath.

He went to the bedroom next to his and knocked softly. When there was no answer he tried again, and then opened the door. The bed was mussed, but empty, and she wasn’t in the bathroom.

As he walked back out to the hall, alarm rang in his ears. Before he knew it he was in a jog, then a run. He raced past the head of the stairway and pounded down the statuary corridor. He didn’t bother knocking on Z’s door, just threw it open.

Phury stopped dead.

His first thought was that Zsadist was going to fall off the bed. The brother’s body was on top of the comforter and right on the edge of the mattress, as far over as possible. Jesus… The position looked uncomfortable as hell. Z’s arms were wrapped around his bare chest as if he were holding himself together, and his legs were bent and twisted to the side with the knees hanging in midair.

But his head was turned in the opposite direction. Toward Bella. And those distorted lips were parted ever so slightly instead of sneering. And his brows, usually drawn down in aggression, were loose, relaxed.

His expression was one of somnolent awe.

Bella’s face was tilted up to the male beside her, her expression as peaceful as nightfall. And her body was cuddled up next to Z’s, as close as all the sheets and blankets she was under would let her get. Hell, it was obvious that if she could have been wrapped around him, she would have been. And it was just as obvious that Z had tried to get away from her until he could go no farther.

Phury cursed softly. Whatever had been going on the night before, the situation had not been about Z pulling a nasty on her. No way. Not with what the pair of them looked like now.

He closed his eyes. Shut the door.

Like a total lunatic, he briefly considered going back in and fighting Zsadist for the right to lie next to her. He could see himself throwing the hand-to-hand around, having an old-fashioned cohntehst with his twin over who was allowed to have her.

But this was not the Old Country. And females had the right to choose who they sought out. Who they slept beside. Who they mated with.

And she had known where Phury stayed. He’d told her his room was right next door. If she had wanted to, she could have turned to him.





Z became aware of the oddest sensation as he came out of sleep: He was warm. Not overheated, just…warm. Had he forgotten to turn the heat off again after Bella had left? Must be it. Except he noticed something else. He wasn’t on the pallet. And he had pants on, didn’t he? He moved his legs around, trying to pin that one down, thinking that he always slept naked. As his warm-ups shifted, he realized the it was hard. Hard and heavy. What the f—

His eyes popped open. Bella. He was on the bed with Bella.

He jerked away from her—

And fell off the mattress, landing on his ass.

Instantly she scrambled after him. “Zsadist?”

As she leaned over the side, the robe she was wearing fell open and his eyes latched onto the breast that was exposed. She was just as perfect as she’d been in the tub, her pale skin so smooth and her little nipple so pink…. God, he knew the other one was just the same, but for some reason he needed to see it anyway.

“Zsadist?” She stretched down farther, her hair slipping off her shoulder and pouring over the edge of the bed, a gorgeous fall of deep mahogany.

The it between his thighs strained. Pulsed with the beat of his heart.

He jacked his knees up and clamped his thighs together, not wanting her to see.

“Your robe,” he said roughly. “Close it. Please.”

She glanced down and then dragged the lapels together, blushing. Oh, hell… Now her cheeks were as pink as her nipple, he thought.

“Will you come back to bed?” she asked.

The very well buried, decent part of him pointed out that wasn’t a good idea.

“Please?” she whispered, tucking her hair behind her ear.

He measured the arch of her body and the black satin that barred her skin from his stare and her wide, sapphire blue eyes and the slender column of her throat.

No…it really was not a good idea to get near her right now.

“Move over,” he said.

As she shuffled back, he glanced down at the tent between his legs. Christ, that goddamn thing in there was huge; he looked like he had another arm in his pants. And hiding a log like that would require scaffolding.

He eyed the bed. In a smooth movement he hopped between the sheets.

Which was an achingly bad idea. The moment he was underneath, she molded herself to his hard edges until she was another blanket. A soft, warm, breathing…

Z panicked. There was so much of her against him that he didn’t know what to do. He wanted to shove her away. He wanted her even closer. He wanted…Oh, man. He wanted to mount her. He wanted to take her. He wanted to f*ck her.

The instinct was so strong he saw himself doing the deed: rolling her onto her stomach, pulling her hips off the bed, rearing up behind her. He imagined pushing the it inside of her and pumping with his hips—

God, he was loathsome. To want to take that dirty thing and force it into her? He might as well shove a toilet brush in her mouth.

“You tremble…” she said. “Are you cold?”

She shifted even closer to him, and he felt her breast, soft and warm, on the back of his forearm. The it twitched wildly, popping against his pants.