The King (Black Dagger Brotherhood #12)(98)

His erection was … just as incredible as the rest of him.

“Shut the goddamn door!” he hollered.

Except she wasn’t going to listen to that. Not after her visit to the cemetery up above. Not after having been reminded as recently as this morning exactly what was waiting for her: Her body was just beginning its death process, but she knew well enough that once the joints began to grind, time was of the essence.

This could be her one and only opportunity to be with a male—and she wanted this. In fact, she would have wanted him even if her future weren’t as yet breathing down her neck.

And his body desired hers. Clearly.

For all those reasons, she pushed the door completely open.

“Fucking hell,” he muttered. Then more loudly, “Selena, please.”

“I want … this.”

His head shook. “You don’t.”

“I want … you.”

“You can’t—for God’s sake, Selena, I hurt you.”

“You did not.”

He looked over the carved muscles of his upper arm. His eyes were glowing green. “Don’t push me right now. You’re not going to like what happens.”

“Are you going to make me beg?”

His huge body swayed, as if she’d sucked his strength instead of given him more. “Don’t do this to either of us, Selena. Not tonight.”

She frowned. “Tonight?”

He grabbed for a towel and wrapped it around his hips. “Just go. I’m so … grateful you gave me what I need. But I can’t do this right now.”

Giving her his back, he stood there, staring at a blank wall.

Selena pulled her lapels closer. “What ails—”

“For the love of f*cking God, I’m already f*cking my parents over, okay? I do not want to add you to the list.”

“Whatever do you speak of?”

When he didn’t reply, she went over to him, her cloth-soled shoes making no sound. When she touched his shoulder, he jumped.

“Trez—”

He wheeled around and backed up at the same time, slamming into the wall. “Please—”

“Speak unto me.”

His frantic eyes bounced around her face, her shoulders, her body. “I don’t want to talk right now. I want…”

“What?” she whispered.

“You know what … goddamn me to hell … I want you. So you really f*cking have to leave.”

They stared at each other for the longest time. And then she decided to take control.

Reaching for the tie at her waist, Selena’s hands shook as she pulled apart the bow and let the strip fall to the floor. Uncurling, the robing split asunder, exposing the center of her body, her aching breasts catching the two halves and holding them.

But her sex was on display. And his eyes went down … and stayed there.

Trez’s lips parted, his fangs descending anew; and now she was the one weaving on her feet as her core responded even further, blooming between her legs, sending out a call.

Which he answered by falling to his knees.

She wasn’t sure what she expected, but it wasn’t what he did next.

Reaching up, he slipped his hands under the robe’s halves and onto her waist. Warmth was her first impression—and that was followed by an immediate electric sensation, a sizzle that was transmitted from him to her through his broad palms.

He was so tall that his head came up to just below her breasts, and all she could think of doing was running her hands over his soft, tightly curled hair—

She lost that initiative as his mouth brushed against her sternum. And then her upper belly. And then her navel.

He was curling himself backward onto his heels as he went down, and she … was he going to—

Selena moaned and nearly fell over as he brushed the top of her bare sex with his lips; His grip on her waist was the only thing that kept her upright.

The nuzzling was soft and gentle, his face and nose rubbing on her pelvis, his lips kissing the outside of her cleft.

And she wanted more.

Just as she was trying to form words, his tongue extended in for a probing lick, the invasion so languorous, she wasn’t spooked at how foreign it was. And then it came back, reentering, taking another taste of her.

He was purring now.

Falling forward, she put her hands on his shoulders and widened her stance—even as she became impatient with the effort it took to stay standing: She wanted all her concentration to be on him and what he was doing to her. Worrying about balance and coordination—

He solved that problem by lifting her off her feet and laying her down on the fur rug in front of the claw-foot tub.

Giving herself up to wherever this would go, she reached her arms over her head and arched her back, her breasts peaking and casting aside the robe halves, her body revealed to him.

“Fucking hell,” he gritted as his eyes traveled from the crown of her head to her tight nipples … past the flat plane of her belly, to her sex and her legs.

His dark hand was a contrast to the paleness of her skin as he drew a lazy stroke from her collarbone to one of her breasts. Capturing the weight in his palm, she groaned and undulated, her knees bending up … and falling open.

His towel dropped away from his body, exposing his hairless beauty and his formidable sex.