The Darkest Pleasure (Lords of the Underworld #3)(45)

DEAR GOD. How have I lived without this?

Danika tangled her fingers in Reyes's silky hair and held tight, her nails scoring his scalp. His tongue was hot, spiced with passionate man. His body was hard on top of hers.

For some reason, he pressed his palms flat against the bed and lifted so that only their mouths connected. No. No, no, no. She wanted to feel his weight, his heat, his strength and his hardness.

She shouldn't. Nothing should matter but her family, her freedom. Yet from the moment she'd seen Reyes lying unconscious, near death, she'd been unable to think about anything but him. Wrong, so wrong. Except how could this be wrong when she felt comforted for the first time in months? How could this be wrong when she felt truly alive?

Just a little longer, she thought. Once the curiosity abated, once she knew beyond any doubt this man's taste - oh, God, his taste - didn't affect her more than any other man's, she could push him away.

Later she would act like the smart woman her wonderful mother had raised. She would act responsible, would find a way to question Aeron successfully. She would leave this fortress and never return.

"Danika," Reyes whispered. "Angel."

Angel. "Don't stop."

His lips were soft, the tiny bit of shadow beard on his jaw scraping her cheeks. Every time he angled his head, taking her deeper with his tongue, harder, and scraping her a little more, a lance of pleasure traveled to her nipples, between her legs.

She moaned, unable to quiet herself.

"Do you like my kiss?" he asked. "I'm not hurting you?"

"I like. Not hurting." As she squeezed the knotted muscles in his shoulders, she didn't think she would have minded a little pain. She yearned to have his teeth bite at her and his body pound against her. Inside her.

"I'm glad." His tongue swept past her teeth and worked the roof of her mouth, massaging.

So good, she thought, but still, she needed more. Perhaps she needed everything he had to give. She definitely needed him rubbing against her - why wasn't he rubbing? Some of her desire waned. Why had he sounded controlled? So...unaffected?

The questions chilled the hottest flames of her ardor, and she began to notice other things, as well. She had spread her legs but he hadn't fallen into the offered cradle. She'd clutched at him, desperate for more, yet he remained detached from her, only touching her with his tongue. She'd gasped again and again, yet his breathing was completely unchanged.

"The Darkest Pleasure"

Danika pressed into the pillow, pulling from Reyes's lips. She was still panting; he was still breathing normally. She glared up at him, unsure what to think.

"You started this," she said, anger rising inside her. He had started it and yet he hadn't really participated. "Why? And don't give me any bullshit about wanting the need to end. Clearly, you don't desire me." Saying it caused the anger to spike.

His eyelids flickered open. Normally they were so dark the pupils seemed to swallow up the irises. Now they flickered and swirled like a sea of churning emotion, a hint of crimson framing the black.

Demon eyes.

She gulped. It was terrifying, being reminded of his inner evil. And yet, still her desire remained. Still, her body ached and hungered. For him, only him. Why?

Much as she'd tried to convince herself that he was the same as any other man, she'd only managed to do the opposite. He was Reyes, a combination of man and demon, drawing and repelling her at the same time. He was right and wrong wrapped in the same sensual package, with a kiss and flavor that transported her at once to the heights of heaven and the depths of hell.

He had sprung from her nightmares, yet he had become her fantasy, weaving gossamer wings of desire through her every cell. He was the only thing she wanted and everything she shouldn't have. She would have been able to pick him out of a lineup blindfolded, his woodsy scent like a tether that bound them together.

What did she truly know about him, besides the fact that he was possessed by a demon? She knew that everyone else seemed pale and weak when compared to him, wilted carnations surrounding a lone, thorny rose. She knew no one else had ever set her on fire like this. She knew that she'd been cold for a long time and only he had been able to warm her.

Surely that warmth was drugging her, luring her down this road of temptation. Not Reyes himself. Yes, she'd blame the warmth. For now. The alternative scared her too much.

"Just get off me," she said, amazed at her calm.

"I do want you," he said, and he sounded tortured, as though knives were being shoved under his fingernails.

"Liar." She echoed his earlier accusation as she pushed at his shoulders.

He didn't budge. He did frown. "Stop, angel. You do not want me to leave."

Angel. He'd called her angel again. Once, in the dungeon, he'd even called her his. She tried not to soften. Men had used endearments on her before, but none had ever uttered one with such a you-belong-to-me-and-only-me undertone.

"You don't know what I want," she snapped, "and obviously I'm not what you desire." Be happy about that, you idiot.

Shame coasted over his rugged features. Shame and grief. His gaze fell to her shoulder, where her T-shirt gaped and cotton fell away from skin. "I want you. Swear to the gods, I do."

As he'd spoken, his lower body had brushed hers. He wasn't hard. Her cheeks heated. When he'd first walked to her, his penis had been so hard and full it had strained past the waist of his jeans. One taste of her, and he'd gone limp. Am I that bad a kisser?