Blood Assassin (The Sentinels #2)(40)

Not again.

“Don’t think this changes anything, warrior,” she warned, scoring her nails up his back. She reveled in his violent shudder of pleasure. “No one gets to possess me utterly and completely anymore.”

“Serra,” he breathed. “Haven’t you learned the danger of challenging a Sentinel?”

“It was a warning, not a challenge.”

“Warning . . . challenge. It’s all the same to me,” he rasped.

His hands skimmed over her body, his lips searing a path down the quivering plane of her stomach.

Serra nearly came off the bed when his tongue dipped into her belly button, a shocking blast of pleasure traveling straight between her legs.

Man, oh man. Fane’s lovemaking was as intense and forceful as he was.

A male who didn’t apologize for being male.

Closing her eyes she savored the soul-shattering sensations. The thorough, detailed exploration of his hands, the thrilling heat of his lips, the hard thrust of his erection that rubbed against the center of her pleasure.

It was like being in the middle of a thunderstorm, sensing the lightning was about to strike at any second.

“I don’t want to be a challenge,” she managed to mutter.

He lifted his head to regard her with a dark, searching intensity. “Then what do you want, Serra?”

“Just to be a woman wanted by a man.”

Chapter Ten

Fane was way past the point of no return.

How many years had he tried to play the noble Sentinel? Too many.

He’d denied himself the female who had stolen a piece of his soul the minute she’d glanced at him with those enticing green eyes.

Now he was done with playing the role of hero.

At some point between leaving Valhalla and arriving in St. Louis his need for Serra had altered from want to have to have.

Claiming her as his own was as necessary as breathing.

Serra, unfortunately, wasn’t nearly so ready to accept their inevitable fate.

Or maybe it wasn’t so unfortunate, he abruptly realized, sliding his hands beneath her to cup her sumptuous ass in his hands.

Convincing her that she was now his, and his alone, offered a wide variety of opportunities to earn the love she’d once so lavishly offered.

And until then . . . well, he wasn’t opposed to allowing her to believe she was just using him for his body.

With one smooth motion he was flipping onto his back and settling Serra until she straddled his waist. She made a sound of shock, her startled gaze searching his deliberately unreadable expression.

“What are you doing?”

“Putting you in charge.”

She licked her dry lips, the unconscious gesture making Fane’s cock twitch in anticipation.

Christ, she looked like the very image of temptation as she perched on top of him, her eyes darkened to a mysterious emerald and her dark hair a cloud of ebony spilling over the lush ivory of her breasts.

“In charge of what?”

“If you won’t let me possess you, then I’m going to let you possess me.”

Another lick of those sensuous lips. “Utterly and completely?”

Fane groaned.

Oh. Hell, yes.

What warrior didn’t want a woman to possess him?

Especially if that possessing included the use of his body that was primed and ready to please her.

Not that she seemed to be in any hurry to start.

Dammit.

Calling on the patience that had been learned over decades of brutal training, Fane allowed his hands to lightly skim up her bare thighs. Her skin was satin soft beneath his fingertips, but he refused to rush her as he caressed the slender indent of her waist before at last cupping the plush softness of her breasts.

His body might be on the wrong side of pain with his need to be buried deep inside her, but nothing was happening until she was ready.

“My Serra,” he said thickly, his thumbs strumming her hardened nipples. “You are so f*cking perfect.”

Her breath caught at the unashamed awe in his voice, her hands bracing against his chest as she leaned down to kiss him with a rough passion that made him growl in pleasure. She tasted of chamomile and warm, sweet temptation.

Fane’s hips jerked upward, rubbing his aching cock against her, silently cursing the satin panties that kept him from completing their union.

He needed to be in her.

He needed to slide into her damp heat. To drown himself in her scent. To be connected on the most basic level.

As if sensing his primitive instinct, Serra gave his lower lip a punishing nip.

“This is sex,” she muttered. “Don’t try to charm me.”

“I can’t help myself.” His hands followed the curve of her waist, ripping off her satin panties. “I’m a charming guy.”

She made a sound of disbelief at his claim.

“You’re a pain in the ass, is what you are,” she muttered. “But I can’t seem to resist you.”

Fane sucked in a sharp breath as Serra used the tip of her tongue to trace the tattoos that were etched over his chest, her hips rocking against his erection. Irresistible?

He was a taciturn Sentinel who knew fifty ways to kill a man, but zero ways to win friends and influence people.

But hell, if she wanted to think that he was irresistible, then he wasn’t going to argue.