Savor Me Slowly (Alien Huntress #3)(21)
Author: Gena Showalter

Increased body temperature suggests he speaks the truth.

Her eyes widened, and her knees nearly buckled. He truly liked what he saw, then. That delighted her on a primitive level. “Thank you.” This time, there was no masking her emotions with that pretend nonchalance. This time, her shock and pleasure rang in both breathless syllables. She grabbed her glove and slid it in place, covering her arm from fingertips to armpit.

“Why are you leaving?” The words themselves were clipped, though he tried to smooth the harsh tone with a smile. His eyes gleamed.

Shit. She was looking at him again, though she didn’t recall turning, providing him with another full-frontal view. Scowling, she focused on the drawer of underwear and selected black silk. “My boss called. I’m needed elsewhere tonight.”

Jaxon clicked his teeth together. “Where?”

“Out.”

“Why the black lace?”

“I like it.”

“Where. The hell. Are you going?” There was no missing his fury.

She’d expected joy. “Out,” she repeated, stepping into the material and gliding it in place.

“Where?” he snarled. “Who will you be with?”

“Why do you care?” Hands suddenly shaking, she anchored a matching bra in place. “Never mind. We’re not discussing this, Jaxon. No reason to. We’re not lovers, we’re not even friends.” She could only imagine the names he’d call her if he knew the truth about her. Whore. Slut. Men were such hypocrites. They could sleep with thousands and they were gods. More than one and a woman was forever tainted.

Le’Ace didn’t need his condemnation added to her own.

“Obviously, you’ll be with a man. A boyfriend?”

“No.” She whipped around, knowingly facing him this time. When he came into focus, she gasped. The reserved mask he’d worn all these many days was gone completely. He appeared savage, capable of inflicting unbearable pain. And doing it with a menacing smile.

Their gazes tangled, two swords drawn and thrust together. Another hot shiver moved through her. She swallowed the lump growing in her throat.

“Come here.” He spoke quietly, yet there was absolute command in his voice.

She could have walked away; he wouldn’t have been able to follow her. But she stepped toward him, desperate to be near him, and unable to breathe when she finally stood between his spread knees. Her mind screamed for her to run. What are you doing? This is wrong. He might offer pleasure now, but he’d offer disdain later.

His hands lifted and settled on her waist, holding her in place. She gasped at first contact, his skin so hot it seared her to the bone. Why had his touch never disgusted her? Why did she always crave more?

“Wh-what do you want?” Stuttering Le’Ace?

“I’ll tell you what I don’t want. I don’t want you to leave.”

Truth?

Affirmative.

She blinked in surprise. “I—I must.”

His grip tightened, his fingers digging deep. “Kiss me first.”

While she yearned to obey, commands were not something she would tolerate. Not from him. “Do not tell me what to do. Ever.”

His eyes blazed, an inferno staring up at her. “That was not a command. Damn it, it was a f**king plea.”

Everything inside her softened. “A kiss won’t change anything,” she replied on a wispy catch of breath. “I still have to leave.”

“I don’t care, all right? Since the first moment I saw you, I’ve wondered what you taste like. I have to know.”

Truth?

Affirmative.

She gulped and his hot gaze followed the movement of her throat. Tentatively she settled her hands on his shoulders. His muscles bunched underneath her palms, thrilling her. Several seconds ticked by, but she didn’t lean down, didn’t take his lips.

She was suddenly more afraid than she’d ever been before.

What if she did it wrong? What if he found no pleasure with her? Her pulse kicked into a wild, uncontrollable dance. You know how to kiss. This is silly. But this was the first time she’d ever cared about a man’s enjoyment. This was the first time she’d been wet and shaky, eager for it.

“Mishka,” he breathed. His arms lifted and his hands tangled in her hair.

Her knees almost buckled. He hadn’t called her Le’Ace, which would have preserved a bit of distance between them. He’d called her by her first name, the first man to ever do so.

Lost, she leaned down and softly pressed her lips against his.

Jaxon could have come at the first hesitant brush of their mouths.

Her jasmine scent held the faintest trace of spice, enveloping him as her fingers clenched on his shoulders, nails sinking sharply. She would have scored his skin if he’d been bare-chested. And he would have liked it. Might have even begged for more.

He’d jerked on a T-shirt while she’d been in the shower, suspecting it would be needed as a shield. Not because he feared her strength, but because he feared his lack of resistance. He could not seduce her if she seduced him, which she was dangerously close to doing.

Not much time with her; don’t waste it.

“I want to kiss you deeper.” True. “Harder.”

She gulped. Nodded.

He pressed his lips to her again, applying a tiny bit more pressure. Her lips remained locked together, so he ran his tongue along the seam. His eyes closed in surrender, his will to resist gone. So soft, so sweet.

He hadn’t lied to her; he didn’t want her to leave. He wanted her to stay here. With him. Not because he had questions for her, and not because he’d gone months without sex. He wanted her to stay because the thought of another man looking at her, touching her, kissing her like this, nearly sent him into a rage. Those goddamn marriage memories must be screwing with his head.

Nothing else explained the fact that at that moment he didn’t give a shit about who or what she was. He didn’t even care that she wanted something from him, was using him. She was a woman, and he was a man. Here, now, pleasure mattered. Nothing else.

“Open your mouth for me,” he told her gently. Don’t scare her away. “Please.”

She trembled, her legs brushing his inner thighs. Dear God. Then, slowly, she obeyed his command-plea. He thrust his tongue inside and moaned in heady pleasure.

She tasted better than he could have dreamed, a decadent blend of mint, woman, and need. His c**k jerked, straining against his jeans, and he had to fight off the intensifying need to climax. He couldn’t stop kissing her, though. Not now, perhaps not ever.