The Darkest Pleasure (Lords of the Underworld #3)(36)
Author: Gena Showalter

"As I said before, you could have left this house, this room, but you didn’t."

"A moment of insanity." Her eyes darted over his face. What she searched for, he didn’t know.

"Many moments. I slept for hours."

"So? That doesn’t mean I want to kiss you. That doesn’t mean I want your hands all over me, skin on skin."

Sweet heaven. "What does it mean, then?"

Her lush lips parted and her tongue swiped over them, leaving a sheen of moisture.

"Nothing to say?" Slowly, slowly, he leaned down.

Slowly, slowly she stretched out, lying down, putting more and more distance between their mouths. When her back hit the mattress, she had nowhere else to go. But she didn’t turn away, didn’t push at him.

Finally he was only a whisper away. He braced his palms at her sides. Strands of her hair caressed his skin like live wires against a switchboard. Gods, the agony. The agony of being so close physically and knowing a kiss was all they could share….

More, his demon begged. Please, more.

Reyes was as hard as a rock, every nerve ending alive. "What does it mean?" he insisted.

"You talk too much." Danika glared up at him, eyes as harsh as her tone. Demanding. Wanting. "Do it. Get it over with. End it."

He wished it were that simple. Do it, never think of it again. Never want it again. Never want her. Perhaps even forget her, so that if Aeron ever claimed her, Reyes would not care. Would not wish for death himself.

"What are you thinking about?" Danika asked, softly now.

Gods, she was lovely. Even piqued, she radiated such beauty it hurt to gaze upon her. Her lashes were long and thick, and there was a single freckle beside her right eyebrow.

"Did you – did you change your mind about the kiss?"

"No." How could he, when he craved it more than a tomorrow? "You may not give me another chance. I want to savor every moment of this."

"If we’re going to be fools, we need to get it over with. Savor later." Obviously tired of waiting for him, she latched on to his cheeks and tugged him all the way down. He fell on top of her, and her breath burst out on a gasp. He inhaled deeply, taking every molecule inside his lungs, branding himself with her essence.

"This means nothing," she said.

"Less than nothing," he lied.

"I’ll hate myself later."

"I hate myself now." She opened her mouth to reply, but he swooped in and swallowed the words.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

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 ni**les, 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.