The Darkest Night (Lords of the Underworld #1)(53)

To Paradise, if he had his way. "Shower." He didn't wait for her response, but shepherded her toward the bathroom.

Surprisingly, she didn't protest. "I must look terrible." She smoothed a hand down her hair and grimaced. "Ugh. Bedhead."

"You could never look terrible."

Her cheeks flushed to a rosy pink. "Yes, I could. Just...I don't know. Avert your eyes until I'm clean or something."

"I've tried to keep my gaze from you. Believe me." But his eyes always sought her of their own accord, pulled by a force far greater than himself.

They reached the bathroom and he released her. An acute sense of loss filled him. Almost time. Just a little longer.

His back to her, he twisted the knobs in the tub. Water burst from the nozzle, cold at first, but gradually heating. Soon steam drifted through the bathroom, curling toward the ceiling, condensing, then falling like tiny drops of rain.

Steeling himself, he faced Ashlyn.

"I'm sorry about your room. I'll, uh, clean it later," she said, gazing down at her bare feet. The nails weren't polished, but the toes were charming, square-tipped.

"I'll clean it," he told her gruffly.

Her gaze snapped to his. "No. I'd rather you didn't. I'm embarrassed enough. I mean, I threw up in front of you. Several times. Maybe even on you. Anything that - oh God, this is mortifying. Anything that landed on the floor is my responsibility."

"My fault. My room. I will clean." He didn't like the image of her doing manual labor. He wanted her in bed, resting. And naked. Yes, naked. Perhaps not resting, then, but licking and biting him.

His cock jumped in response.

"Take off your clothes." His voice was huskier than he'd intended.

She blinked up at him, her lashes casting shadows over her cheeks. "Wh-what?"

"Take off your clothes."

"Right now?" she squeaked.

His brow furrowed. "Do you normally shower with them on?"

"No, but I normally shower alone."

"Not today." He felt as if he'd waited forever for this moment. Ashlyn. Naked. His to do with as he pleased, her curves begging to be explored.

"Why not today?" she asked, the words cracked and pleading.

"Because." Stubborn, he crossed his arms over his chest.

"Maddox - "

"Ashlyn. Take off your clothes. They are dirty."

Behind him, the water continued to beat against the white tile. In front of him, Ashlyn continued to stare, as though flummoxed. "No," she said. She backed away toward the exit. One step, two.

He leaned forward, his nose inching toward hers. He didn't kiss her, though. Didn't touch her. He simply reached behind her and flicked the door shut, blocking her escape.

The soft clink echoed off the walls, and she gulped. Paled.

He sighed. He didn't want her scared, he wanted her aroused. "Do not be frightened."

"I - I'm not."

He didn't believe her, didn't know what thoughts spun inside her mind. Didn't know why she resisted something she'd seemed to want only minutes ago. So he said, "How do you feel? Were you lying when you told me you were better?"

To lie or not to lie, Ashlyn thought. If she told him she was still sick, she knew he'd leave and allow her to shower alone. If she told him she really was healed, he'd insist on watching her strip. Something she'd never done for any man, much less a stranger. An immortal one, at that.

He's not really a stranger anymore. He's held you and slept beside you, cared for you and cleaned you. All of that was true, but she didn't know the little things about him. His likes and dislikes or his relationship history, which must be pretty extensive, old as he was. She didn't know if he simply wanted today with her, or something more.

So many times, in dozens of languages, she'd heard men tell a woman what she wanted to hear, then abandon her later. She'd heard them cheat, unconcerned about the partner waiting for them at home. She'd heard pretty lies and even blatant force.

How would Maddox, a self-professed demon, treat her body? How would he treat her once the loving was done?

As scary as the prospect of being with him was, however, she had to admit it was also exciting. Thrilling. There was intent desire in Maddox's eyes, a violet fire as fierce as it was hot.

No one had ever looked at her like that.

She was the weird girl, the freak. The crazy girl who couldn't have a normal conversation because she was too busy listening to other people talk. Take a chance, Darrow. Dare to live for once. You know you want to.

She gazed up at Maddox. Steam swirled around him, giving him a dreamlike, ghostly aura. His face was ruthless but sexy, his hair cut in choppy black ribbons that fell to his chin. She'd always wanted to have a man, a relationship. She'd always been curious about the passion she'd heard so much about. But she'd also always wanted a man who would love her, who wouldn't leave her when the passion-fire burned out.

"How do you feel, Ashlyn?" he repeated.

Every nerve ending in her body reached for him, pleading for attention. "Fine," she finally admitted. "I feel fine. I didn't lie."

"Then why are you standing there? Strip."

"Do not order me." If she allowed him to walk on her now, he would always walk on her. Always? How long are you staying?