Blood Assassin (The Sentinels #2)(24)

Fane’s heart clenched at the sight of her down-bent head and the hands that covered her face as she cried.

The realization that this magnificent female felt the need to hide in the shower to release her emotions tore him apart. Christ, had he forced her to this? He’d wanted to protect her. Not drive her away.

But even as he cursed his past arrogance, he couldn’t deny a pang of relief that Serra at least had shaken off her shock.

Her stoic lethargy had been far more worrisome than her tears.

Knowing he was taking his life in his hands, Fane moved forward in silence, managing to haul her shivering body into his arms before she could realize she was no longer alone.

Instantly she stiffened, her head jerking back to glare at him in frustration. “Have you ever heard of privacy?”

His arms tightened, the warm water flowing over them. “You don’t have to do this alone, Serra.”

“Fane.”

“Lean on me, you stubborn female.” He cupped the back of her head, gently pressing her cheek to his chest. “Just for a minute. Then you can return to spitting fury.”

“I’m not stubborn,” she muttered, but to his intense relief she allowed her muscles to relax, pressing herself against him.

His fingers lightly skimmed up and down her spine, his head lowering so he could press his lips against her temple.

“Whatever you say.”

There was a long silence as she permitted the last of her tears to stream down her damp face, allowing the crippling fear to flow through her before she determinedly regained command of her battered emotions.

Serra might not be a Sentinel, but she was a warrior.

She needed to release the anger and frustration, and outright terror, so she could consider her situation with a clear head.

Laying his cheek on the top of her head, he tugged her so they weren’t directly beneath the deluge of water.

“Do you feel better?”

She gave a last, defiant sniffle. “Don’t patronize me.”

His lips followed her hairline before tracing the damp shell of her ear, his determination to offer her comfort swiftly transforming into something far more intoxicating....

Dangerous.

“God forbid,” he murmured, allowing his hands to slide back to her hips so he could urge her against his hardening erection.

She sucked in a startled breath, her hands lifting to grasp his shoulders. “And don’t do that!”

He nipped the lobe of her ear, relishing the taste of her warm satin skin. A groan was wrenched from his throat. How many nights had he tormented himself with thoughts of what she would taste like?

Now he knew. . . .

Chamomile.

Mmm. He could easily become addicted.

“Do what?” he asked.

She shivered, her nails digging into his skin. “Nibble at me.”

The thickening thrust of his erection pressed into her lower stomach. This time she groaned.

“Is that what I’m doing?” he asked.

“You know it is.”

He smiled as her words came out as a breathy whisper. “Actually that was nuzzling.” To prove his point, Fane used his teeth to nip a path down her throat. “This is nibbling.”

He actually felt the jump of her heart. “Fane.”

Fane smiled, unable to resist the temptation of the warm, wet woman in his arms.

No . . . not just a woman.

Serra.

His precious, splendid, always forbidden female.

“This is fondling,” he assured her, his hand gliding up her side, circling to cup one lush breast.

His breath abruptly hissed through clenched teeth. Holy shit. She fit perfectly in his hand. Soft, but firm with a dark nipple that was already furled with anticipation.

Pleasure exploded through his body.

He was barely touching her and he was already on the edge of climax.

What would happen if he actually bent down and sucked that tempting nipple between his lips? If he yanked her higher so he could wrap her impossibly long legs around his waist and leave her open and ready for the penetration of his rock-hard cock?

Desire, as sharp as a razor, sliced through him.

“I told you that you could help me.” Serra’s husky voice broke into his enticing fantasy, “but no . . .”

“Fondling?” he helpfully supplied, his thumb teasing the hardened tip of her nipple.

“Exactly.”

Her breath brushed over his chest, making his teeth clench in actual pain. My God, this wanting, aching need . . .

“What about nuzzling?” he rasped, his lips following the sleek line of her shoulder.

She tilted her head back, her eyes darkened with passion. “You’re just trying to distract me.”

He gave a low, throaty chuckle. This was the most intensely erotic distraction he’d ever enjoyed.

“Is it working?”

She trembled, but always stubborn, she shook her head. “No.”

With a slow, deliberate motion he lowered his head to lick the very tip of her nipple. “Are you sure?”

Her nails cut into the skin of his shoulder. “Oh, hell.”

He groaned, allowing his tongue to explore the sensitive peak. The taste of her was addictive.

“It feels like it’s working,” he said softly.

“Fane,” she breathed.