Lover Arisen (Black Dagger Brotherhood #20)(97)

And if the Book’s spell required her to ruin true love to get the job done with her lover? Fine. She was going to enjoy the moment that that blond Adonis with the Omega in his DNA came crawling back to her, brought to heel by the prescription laid out by the spell.

Retracting her hand, she considered her options.

Then she started to smile.

Well, she knew just where to go with this, didn’t she.



* * *



As Balz stared down into the glowing eyes of a human female who he’d give anything and everything to if he could, he wanted to deny what she’d said. He wanted to tell her that, actually, there already was a homicide detective in his world—and other humans, too. Manny Manello, for example. And Doc Jane. And Sarah. And Mary.

But as soon as he generated the list, the primary fault in the argument became readily apparent: Each one of those people had given up their human identity and existence. So it wasn’t so much that humans couldn’t be in his world. It was that they had to pick.

Butch O’Neal had left homicide even before he’d learned who he really was.

The others had given up their lives on the human side when they chose to be with their vampire mates. Doc Jane was dead as far as the humans in her life knew. Sarah had pulled out of her scientific work. Mary and Manny had functionally disappeared.

“I’m not going to want to leave you,” he said roughly.

“And I’m not going to want you to go.” She ran her hand up his arm. “You make me feel alive and I didn’t know how much I needed that until I met you.”

He lowered himself back to her lips. “It’s the same for me.”

This time, when he kissed her, it was gently, reverently. And even when he deepened things, he took his time, savoring her lips against his own and the slickness of her tongue.

Easing back, he said, “Can I touch you? I don’t have to… see you.”

There was a pause. And then she whispered, “I’m sorry—”

“No, you don’t apologize. Ever. But I would like to… touch you.”

“I’ll explain, later. I just don’t want to ruin things. If they haven’t already been—”

“Not ruined. Not at all.”

She nodded, but he could sense the tension in her.

“Can I kiss you some more?” he asked.

“Oh, God, yes.”

Dropping his head down once again, he stroked her mouth with his own. And licked his way inside. And waited until her arousal was back… before he put his palm onto her shoulder… and moved it down to her arm… and over to her waist.

When he hesitated, she shifted and he felt her hand on top of his own. She was the one who brought him to her breast—

The groan she let out was hot as hell, but he reined in his lust. Which was easy to do as he learned her contours, the t-shirt so thin, the soft fabric a second skin. As he cupped her, he circled her nipple with his thumb, and she was both tender and taut under his touch, the weight of her tantalizing, that arousal of hers ramping up as he caressed her… and then he couldn’t wait anymore. He had to explore with his mouth. Moving down onto her neck, he gritted his molars to keep from raking his fangs across her jugular on his way to where he wanted to be.

When he was in between her breasts, he trailed kisses up one of the rises. Her nipple was tight and made for his mouth, and even though he wanted to tease her, tease himself, he failed on that. Sucking her in through the shirt, he nursed at her, tugging, pulling, as he continued to stroke the other side with his dagger hand.

She was writhing beneath him now, restless, starved. And he was so there with her, his cock pounding between his legs, so desperate to get into her that he started to shake with need. He told himself he was going to be able to make it good for her and last longer than the first penetration—but he wasn’t sure about that. The good news? He was going to be ready for another round immediately. Another three or four. A dozen.

He had never been like this for any other female or woman.

Ever.

“I need you…” she groaned as she arched against him.

The sight of her breasts, so peaked under that thin shirt, undulating up to his mouth, was almost enough to make him come, and he forgot any kind of take-his-time as her hands left his shoulders and went in between their bodies, to the waistband of her jeans.

“I can do that.” He brushed her fingers away. “Let me.”

He was fast with the button, faster with the zipper, and then he was hooking his thumbs and drawing the Levi’s down, down, down. Her panties were simple and blue—and ridiculously, he noted that they matched the color of the sofa. He left them in place.

He had plans for them.

She kicked off her shoes and he took her socks off along with the jeans in a coordinated move that, in his mind, he gave himself a gold medal for. Then he wasn’t thinking much. Except for his hair-trigger instincts, which continued to monitor the house above them and the cellar around them, he was all about his female.

He felt like the only thing a piece of shit like him could do for a woman like her was give her pleasure.

And that was one thing he would not fail.

His lips drifted down onto her stomach, and when he got to the top edge of her underwear, he took his tongue and licked under them. Then he moved over to the side of her hip. The panties were kept in place by banding that had “Calvin Klein” on it, and he looked up at her. On the far side of her breasts, she was watching him, her eyes blazing, her mouth open. With every hard, panting breath she took, her nipples shifted under the shirt, under the wet spot where his mouth had been on her.