Blood Assassin (The Sentinels #2)(72)

“Where did you go?” she asked, her steady gaze daring him to refuse to answer.

Yeah. That wasn’t a dare he was taking.

He’d already reached his quota of dumb-ass decisions for one night.

“I met Marco on the roof.”

“And?”

“And they managed to locate at least one of Bas’s secret lairs.”

She lifted a brow. “Lairs?”

“He’s a villain,” Fane said with a shrug. “Don’t they have lairs?”

There was a startled beat before Serra gave a choked laugh. “Oh my God. Was that a joke?”

His expression remained bland. “I have my moments.”

Without warning, she went onto the tips of her toes to press a teasing kiss to his lips.

“Yes, you do.”

His reaction was explosive. One second he was counting his blessings she hadn’t been waiting at the door with a baseball bat, and the next his body was humming with a darkly erotic anticipation.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, his voice suddenly rough with need.

A slow smile of temptation curled her lips. “The headache is all gone.”

He brushed his fingers over her still pale cheek. “Your powers are back?”

“Yes, thank God.” There was no missing the sincerity in her voice. “I’m not used to feeling completely vulnerable. I don’t know how norms can stand it.”

His gaze lowered to the plump temptation of her lips, he was not particularly interested in humans or their petty problems.

“I assume it’s their sense of vulnerability that provokes their prejudice against high-bloods,” he said, his distraction obvious.

“Yes.” Her eyes darkened to emerald, the rich scent of chamomile filling the air. “How do you feel?”

He lowered her hand to press it over his thundering heart, peering deep into her wide eyes.

“You tell me.”

Her lips twitched. “I was asking if you’ve recovered.”

“All healed. But—”

“But what?”

Using his speed to his advantage, he scooped her off her feet and headed toward the bedroom.

“I should probably return to bed to make sure I’m fully rested.”

“I don’t think you intend to rest,” she accused, the sparkle in her eyes assuring him that she wasn’t opposed to delaying sleep.

“I might.” He lowered her onto the bed, swiftly ridding himself of his cargo pants. “Eventually.”

Holding his darkened gaze, Serra tugged on the belt of her robe. Slowly the terry cloth fabric parted and then fell aside, revealing her naked body.

He choked back a groan as his cock hardened in response to the beautiful vision below him.

He wanted to kiss every inch of her pale, ivory skin. To sink between her thighs and taste of her heat. To watch her eyes squeeze closed with pleasure as he entered her and pounded them both into mindless bliss.

Placing a knee on the edge of the bed, he leaned down to slide the robe off her shoulders and down her arms, allowing her beauty to be fully exposed.

Now the only question was where to touch first.

He settled on the delicate curve of her throat, brushing his fingers down to the pulse racing at the base of her neck. He smiled, savoring the sensation of her soft skin beneath his fingertips.

“I thought you would still be asleep,” he murmured.

She studied him from beneath half-lowered lids. “You have the temperature down to sixty degrees. I was cold without you wrapped around me like a human heater.”

Fane gave a soft chuckle. “I promise to warm you up.”

Her eyes sparkled as a smile of wicked temptation curved her lips.

“I don’t know.” Her gaze traced the tattoos on his bare chest. “I’m awfully cold.”

Without hesitation, Fane joined her on the wide bed. The warm scent of chamomile and woman wrapped around him, arousing the hunter that always lurked just beneath the surface.

Growling in anticipation, Fane pulled her into his arms and performed a smooth roll. She gave a tiny gasp of surprise as he anchored her on top of his aching body with her legs straddling his hips.

He smiled into her startled eyes, his hands gripping her hips.

“Milaya, I’m going to have you burning before I’m done.”

She planted her hands on his chest as his fingers skimmed around the curve of her hips to cup her ass, pressing her firmly against his throbbing shaft.

“Promises, promises” she breathed.

Fane chuckled as he lifted his head to nibble at the base of her throat.

“I’m more than willing to turn my promises into reality.”

“I . . .” Her head tilted to the side, her hair tumbling over her shoulder as he gave her a small nip. At the same time her hips moved backward and forward in silent encouragement. “Oh.”

Fane groaned. Her skin fascinated him. Like ivory satin.

He licked a hungry path to her breast.

A part of him longed to simply thrust deep inside her and find his release. What male didn’t enjoy a swift, sweaty orgasm?

But a greater part was determined to relish a slow, heated bout of lovemaking.

And it was lovemaking with Serra.

Not mindless coupling.

Not a quick f*ck.