The Darkest Kiss (Lords of the Underworld #2)(54)

An hour later, his body was hard and hot and - f*ck - still weakening. His hands were trembling, and he could feel the need for sex fueling his every cell - which was why, when someone ran into him from behind, he stumbled forward, nearly falling flat on his face before he managed to right himself.

"I'm so sorry," a feminine voice said.

A shiver danced through him at the sound of her decadent timbre. He turned slowly, afraid if he moved too quickly she would run away from him like the others. Papers were scattered around her feet, he noticed first, and she was bent down trying to gather them.

"That'll teach me to read and walk at the same time," she muttered.

"I'm glad you were reading," he said, bending down to help her. "I'm glad we ran into each other."

Her lids raised, and her gaze met his. She gasped.

In awareness? Please, please be awareness.

She was plain, with hazel eyes, freckled skin, and wavy brown hair that fell past her shoulders. Her eyes were too big for her face, and her lips were so full they appeared bee-stung. But there was something mesmerizing about her. Something that compelled his gaze to linger, to drink her in and enjoy. A hidden sensuality, perhaps. A wicked flicker in those green and brown eyes.

The quiet, mousy ones were always the wildest.

"Your name doesn't start with an A, does it?" he asked, suddenly suspicious.

Her brow puckered in confusion, but she shook her head. "No. My name is Sienna. Not that you care and not that you really asked. Sorry. I didn't mean to just blurt it out."

"I care," he said huskily. He couldn't wait to strip her.

A rosy blush infused her cheeks, and she hastily returned her attention to the papers.

"You're...American?" he asked, handing her the papers he'd gathered.

"Yes. Vacationing here to work on my manuscript. Again, not that you asked. I can't place your accent, though."

"Hungarian," he said. Well, he'd lived in Budapest for enough centuries to claim the nationality. Quickly he changed the subject back to her. "So you are a writer?"

"Yes. Well, I hope to be. Wait, that's not right, either. I am a writer, but I'm not published yet." Stacking her bundle, she nibbled on her lush bottom lip. "I'm sorry I'm babbling. It's a habit of mine. Just tell me to shut up when you've heard enough from me."

"I'd love to hear more." Relief was swimming through him, as potent as the richest wine laced with ambrosia. Finally - a woman who didn't rush away from him as if he were poison.

Blushing again, she smoothed a lock of hair behind her ear.

He watched the action, his cock twitching in response. This woman's hands were exquisite, perhaps the most sensual body part he'd ever seen. Soft, delicate, with white-tipped, square nails. A thick silver chain was linked around her equally exquisite wrist. She wore three rings. Two were simple bands, again silver, and the third was a large iridescent opal.

Married?

He didn't like the thought, but wasn't going to let it sway him. He imagined those hands on his body and could have come.

He had to have her.

Could be Bait. The thought struck him out of habit, because it was something he worried about constantly. He studied her more closely. The freckles spread over her entire face, the lips nearly misshapen by their large size. Probably not Bait, he decided then. Bait was usually gorgeous. Like Ashlyn. Like Anya. Sienna wasn't gorgeous. Not even close. Still, he wasn't going to lower his guard.

Must have her. Now! the demon growled.

Soon...soon...

"You're just being nice," she said, breaking the silence that had encompassed them. She pushed to her feet, tucking her manuscript under her arm. She was very slim, almost flat-chested.

He stood, loving how small she was compared to him, how his big body dwarfed her. "Hell, no. I'm nice, but I'm not lying. I want to know everything about you."

"Really?" she asked hopefully.

"Swear."

Her clothes were unflattering, dark blue and bagging. He wondered if she wore sexy lingerie underneath. He'd like to see her in emerald-green lace.

"Would you, uh, like to get a coffee or something?" she asked.

"Yes." Gods, yes.

Slowly she grinned. "Where?"

That grin affected him soul-deep. He felt its radiance like a punch in the gut. "Wherever you lead, I'll follow." He was already hard, but now he was invigorated. He'd charm and flatter her, then give her the best orgasm of her life. Afterward, they'd amicably part ways.

She'd have a night to remember, and his strength would be restored. For the rest of the day, at least. An even trade.

"Come on," he said. "We'll find something." Soon.

They meandered along the walkway, side by side. His awareness of her only grew. She smelled of soap and - he sniffed. Wildflowers. What were her most secret fantasies?

"There's a caf¨| just around the corner," she said.

"Perfect." A tremble racked him. Weakness or desire? He didn't know, didn't care. Distract yourself. "What's your manuscript about?"

"Oh." She waved a hand through the air. "You don't really want to know, and I'm embarrassed to say."

"A romance novel, then?"