The Darkest Touch

“That’s a pretty specific number.”

“I like statistics.” She tended to spout them whenever her nerves kicked up. Torin used to tease her about it.

Oh, Torin. I miss you so much.

He would never have treated her this way.

Lazarus sat up and crooked his finger at her. “Come here.”

Her heart skipped a treacherous beat. Gulping, she said, “Why?”

“So suspicious.” He tsked. “Are you afraid of what I’ll do—or of what I’ll make you feel?”

“I’m not afraid of anything.” She pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth and, though she dragged her feet, put herself between his thighs. Goose bumps broke out over her skin. He looked at her, dark hair falling over his forehead, brushing against his lashes. His eyes were as black as night, and she couldn’t distinguish pupil from iris, but then, it didn’t matter. Both glittered with a heat that burned her to the bone.

He flattened his palms on her waist, and she gasped.

“So pretty,” he praised, gaze raking over her.

She wore a pink bra made of lace and a matching pair of panties, allowing him to watch as her nipples beaded.

“So sensitive.”

She gulped, fought a shiver. “What are you doing?”

His grip tightened. “Your availability is only one of the reasons I want you. Ask me about the others.” A harsh command.

One she refused to obey. She shook her head. She didn’t want to know.

He told her anyway. “Since the moment I opened my eyes and found myself trapped in a realm with you, I’ve wanted to replace your sadness with pleasure. And, Cameo?” he asked huskily. “I’m going to do it.” He picked her up and twisted, tossing her on top of the mattress. His muscled weight pinned her before she finished bouncing, and she gasped again.

“I won’t buy your help,” she forced herself to say.

For once, his eyes were bleak, without any hint of amusement or disdain. “Maybe I’m trying to buy yours.”

“But you said you didn’t need—”

His lips smashed into hers, his tongue thrusting deep, cutting off her words, the sweetness of his taste invading her senses.

I feel...good. And it was good. So good. Good, good, good. The word echoed through her mind. Never felt this good.

All the reasons she should resist him ceased to matter. He was using her...fine, she would use him, too. He would probably cast her aside seconds after they finished. Not if I cast him away first. He didn’t respect her.

“Oh, I respect you,” he said, and something about the response bothered her, but caught up in pleasure as she was, she couldn’t quite puzzle it out. He ripped the pins out of her hair. “Never met a woman quite like you. Have to have you. Will die if I don’t. And I like you more with every second that passes...value the exquisite feel of you.”

Resistance fishtailed as he dove back down for another smoldering kiss, harder this time, harsher. She loved it, loved that pleasure stripped away his calm facade and left him babbling, even as his words continued to prick sharply at the back of her mind.

Should be bothered by what he said rather than enraptured.

But why? Actually, who cared? He ripped her bra in the center, the material gaping open. Then his hands were on her breasts, kneading the aching flesh, grazing his thumbs across her throbbing nipples.

More and more misery seeped out of her and it...was...glorious.

“You like this. Will like my mouth even more.” He replaced his thumbs with his mouth, his tongue flicking, creating a dizzying friction. Then he began to suck, hard, causing her back to arch up off the bed, pleasure to shoot through her, and his name to part her lips.

“Going to take you hard and fast this time,” he said, giving her panties the same treatment her bra had received. He sat up long enough to cast his robe aside and tear away his pants. Leaving him naked. Gloriously, amazingly naked. “Second time will be slow and sweet.”

She shivered. Having spent her life with warriors, she was used to men who had been honed on the battlefield, but Lazarus was something else entirely.

He fisted his iron-hard erection as she studied him. “This is for you. All for you. Never forget.” His knees caged her thighs, keeping her legs locked tightly together as he once again raked his gaze over her.

Unlike before, when he’d looked her up and down with such calculated purpose, the action made her quiver and ache. He radiated savage intensity, hiding nothing, as if he’d lost his humanity and found the brutal animal lurking inside. As if he would kill to have her. As if he truly couldn’t live without sinking inside her.

“Let me show you what’s for you,” she said softly.

“Yes.” He slid his palms under her knees and spread her legs outside his own. He stared at her, his eyes glowing hotly. “Prettier.” Slowly he leaned down, every second without his weight agony. But then, finally, he was on top of her, and she was winding her legs around his waist, ready, so ready.

As he positioned himself for penetration, she thought she heard a knock at the door. “Lazarus,” she said on a moan, trying to warn him. But all she could do was plead for more. “Please. It’s so good.”

Sweat trickled down his temple. “Whoever it is will go away.” But a second passed and then another, and he didn’t enter her. He waited, and the knocking grew louder, coming faster, until Lazarus jerked upright and cursed. “What!”