Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 110080 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 550(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 367(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110080 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 550(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 367(@300wpm)
He swooped in, silencing her with another kiss. They ate at each other. Clutched and kneaded. Rubbed. But all too soon, wandering hands and grinding bodies weren’t enough. He required her surrender. Total and complete. In bed. Naked. She would be eager for him and him alone.
Roux lifted his head, ending the kiss, only to lick the seam of her lips. Between harsh breaths, he bit out, “I want more than your body. I want your thoughts. Give them to me.”
“Can’t think...” She stabbed her fingers through his hair, and nipped his chin. “Want to scream. You said I’d scream.” Diving in for another kiss, she jumped up and wrapped her legs around his waist. Hardness met softness, and his madness sharpened. “Give me what you promised.”
A harsh groan barreled from him. The new alignment amplified every sensation rampaging through him—and added others!
Drunken catcalls and lewd suggestions hit his ears. He wrenched up his head and snarled at the offenders. Only then did he remember the celebration taking place around them. Despite the storm, the fizzling out of the bonfires, and the inundation of rain puddles, immortals loomed in every direction, watching him and the harphantom. Some grinned while teetering on unsteady legs, spilling their drinks. Some glared while doing the same. Those who remained stone-cold sober—the welcome party—exhibited smug satisfaction.
That smug satisfaction should bother him. And it would. Tomorrow. As for tonight...
Roux flashed Blythe to their private chamber, appearing beside the bed. The siren’s song drifted through the windows, growing more and more muted as the rainfall intensified.
He gripped the object of his fascination by the waist and tossed her to the mattress, exactly as he’d imagined doing a thousand times. Before she ceased bouncing, he lunged over her, putting his mouth just over hers. Hovering. With one hand, he braced his weight. With the other, he plucked at the button holding her vest together. She watched him, her pupils expanding.
The sides of the garment parted, revealing the plush mounds he’d beheld in his every waking fantasy. “Let me touch.”
“Yes.” She arched her back, presenting herself to him. “Do it.”
Trembling, he reached out slowly, so slowly, and tentatively cupped one of her breasts. He groaned. Gently kneaded. The utter softness. Nothing better than this.
Gasping, she flattened her hand over his. The sight of her. The sight of her in his grip. The feel of her. This. This was better.
Aching to see more, all, he jackknifed to his feet and yanked off her boots. His trembling worsened as he reached under her soaked skirt, hooked his fingers around the crotch of her panties, and pulled. The material slipped down her legs, past her feet. Feet he placed exactly where he wanted—far apart at the edge of the mattress.
She watched him with glittering eyes. “Deep down, I knew you’d be like this.”
“Like this?” He lifted his shirt overhead and dropped the material to the floor.
“Mmm-hmm.” Passion painted her flesh with a rosy flush. “Irresistibly demanding.”
“Oh, you knew it, did you?” He undid the button on his leathers. “How often did you ponder this phenomenon?”
“Too often,” she grumbled.
He gave a rusty chuckle filled with more strain than amusement. “That’s good. Because I have never stopped thinking of you. And Lyla? I will demand many things from you.”
Here, now, only one question remained. Where should he start? Instincts shouted rush while begging for slow.
Roux dragged his gaze down her curves, setting off a chain reaction of sensations. His blood burned hot, nothing but fuel. Energy pumped into muscles. Sweat glazed him, and ferocity whipped at his back.
“My Lyla is a prize among prizes.” Strands of inky hair clung to her rain-dotted skin. A pulse raced at the base of her throat. The rise and fall of her bare chest left his insides clenching.
Where the skirt parted...
The moisture in his mouth dried, and he wiped a palm over his face. “No one compares to you,” he croaked, throbbing for her.
“How do you know?” Remaining reclined on one elbow, she stroked a tiny claw around her navel. “I’m your first.”
“Yes, but I’m thousands of years old.” And then some. “I’ve seen much. Trust me when I say you are my favorite sight in all the worlds.” His favorite everything.
She entranced him with a sensual smile. “I want to see you, too.” Her gaze dropped to his zipper, and she licked her lips.
A hoarse sound brewed at the edge of his tongue. As the storm intensified outside, reaching a new pinnacle, obscuring the siren’s song, he slowly opened the metal teeth. “Is there something specific you’d like to see, harpy?” To bare himself to her...to remove all barriers between them...
“Very much so. I—wait. Hold up.” A frown pulled at the corners of her mouth. She shook her head. “This isn’t right. Something about this is wrong.”
A denial threatened to detonate. But she wasn’t wrong. Fighting for air, he dropped his arms to his sides. The most difficult action he’d ever completed. In that moment, however, he comprehended the problem—the siren’s song.