Seduce the Darkness (Alien Huntress #4)(54)
Author: Gena Showalter

Okay, fine. They hadn’t been moves. He’d been operating on instinct alone, unable to think rationally, only to feel. To give and to take. And just when he would think, Yes, this is it, she’s with me, she would stop writhing, stop moaning. He’d wondered what he was doing wrong and how the hell he could make it better for her. He did not fail, damn it. Not at sex.

Still. Never had he doubted himself so much, and never had success been so important. He would have spent hours, days, weeks, on this lounge with her. Whatever it took. There was no way he would have let Bride leave him disappointed. His pride couldn’t have withstood it. More than that, he remembered what it had been like before, when she’d come on his fingers. Even angry as he’d been, there at the beginning, he’d needed that again.

When she had finally fallen over the edge, he’d felt like king of the universe rather than the king of his own world. Her eyes had closed, her lashes casting shadows over her cheeks, and her teeth had sunk into her bottom lip. she’d arched her back, sending him deeper inside her, and she’d clawed at his flesh, lost in the bliss. She’d panted his name, raspy and sweet, and it had felt like an embrace inside his ears. This time, her cries had not been laced with pain, so he’d relished them all the more.

Everything about her body pleased him. Her taste especially …

Once he had thought he wanted to taste a Rakan more than anything else in the world because they were supposedly like honey. But who cared about honey when nirvana was available? He’d had Bride all over his face, down his throat, in his stomach, and it still hadn’t been enough. Already he hungered for more.

What was he going to do?

He hadn’t wanted another wife. He still didn’t. But the fury was gone, and he did like the thought of having Bride in his house, at his beck and call. He grinned at that. Bride, catering to his every whim. As if she’d really do what he told her to do when he told her to do it. Contrary female.

So what was he going to do with her? What would happen when he tired of her or turned his attentions to someone else? And he would, he just knew it. He always did. Not that he’d ever wanted a woman this intensely. Or for this long. Bride would still need his blood. Would die without it now, if the information he had was correct.

"We’ve been laying here for, like, ever," Bride said, cutting into the silence. "I’m not a pansy like someone I know but out of courtesy won’t name and in need of a nap. I just want to go home."

"For now, this is your home. And I am not a pansy. The nap was for your benefit." Of course, he ruined the boast by yawning.

She twisted in his arms, facing him. Her eyes were luminous, her lips soft and redder than usual. Strands of hair were plastered to her temple. "Sure you want to venture down that road of conversation right now?"

Meaning, she was going to argue about it. "Cut me some slack, sweetheart. I’m having trouble remembering my own name."

At that, she grinned, slowly but sweetly. "I don’t know how you do it, Brad, but you’re the only person on earth who can infuriate me one moment and have me laughing the next."

Brad indeed. "It’s called animal magnetism, darling, and I have more than most.”

“Oh, please.”

“See. It even has you begging for more."

She slapped his shoulder, but her grin didn’t slip.

Just then, it was as if they were friends as well as lovers. He … liked it. Liked her relaxed and teasing. Too bad he was about to ruin the mood. "Want to tell me where you were mentally while I had my face between your legs?"

That pretty grin faded, and he suddenly felt like punching something. "No," she said, cheeks pinkening. "I don’t. Do you want to tell me what happened to your first marriage? Not that you’re married again," she added hastily.

At least she hadn’t tried to pretend ignorance about her disappearing act. "We’ll exchange information, all right? I believe you remember the rules."

At first, she gave no response; her gaze simply searched his face. Looking for what, he didn’t know. Finally, she nodded. "No bullshit about ladies first. This was your idea, so start talking."

"Fine. My wife." The shrew was his second least favorite subject. The first, of course, was his father. "We were betrothed at birth and married at the age of fifteen. We—she’d been raised to view sex as dirty, so we didn’t get along. I left her." A glossed-over version, but the truth just the same, and easier to say than he’d expected. "Now it’s your turn."

Moaning, Bride flopped to her back and threw her arm over her forehead. "You wanted to know where I was mentally while you were … you know." She sighed. "Well, you’ve been with a lot of women."

"I’ve never tried to deny it," he said as dread slid into his veins. He could guess where she was heading with this, and it didn’t bode well for him.

"Well, I was feeling totally inadequate. How could I not, well, wonder how I compared to the others?"

Yep. His sigh mirrored hers. He’d gone through this with a few others, and he’d laughingly told them that no one compared to them. They had been words to soothe, to delight, and to move on to the loving. Here, now, he didn’t want to utter such a claim. For once, he feared he might actually mean it. And if she realized that he meant it, would she then assume their marriage was forever? Probably.

He couldn’t let Bride wallow in feelings of inadequacy, though. That would be cruel. When have you ever cared about being cruel? He just liked her confident, he told himself. She was more fun that way.

"You confuse, fascinate, irritate, and delight me," he said, "and I swear to God the only thing I was thinking about while tasting and touching you was you."

A moment passed as she absorbed his words. She raised her chin and hooked her arms behind her head, raising one leg to study her onyx-painted toenails. "Well, of course you were only thinking of me. I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to you."

That’s my girl. "I guess I proved that by marrying you." Now why had he said that? She snorted. "We aren’t married, moron."

"Yes, we are." Stop, stop, stop. "Why don’t you tell me what you did for a living before scoring a sugar daddy?"

Another snort, but once again she twisted into him. This time she rested her head on his shoulder and began circling one of his ni**les with her fingertips. "Are you sure you want to know?"

"Yes."

"I stole, okay. I wasn’t lazy or anything," she assured him. "I was just afraid to take a job and spend time around humans. One, their smell sometimes makes me sick, and two, I was afraid they’d notice the differences in me, start to question what I was. Three, I believe I’ve mentioned that the sun is uncomfortable for me."