Claimed by the Demon Hunter

by Harley James

  “Anything that comes off your body will be by my hands.”

  Okay then. She swallowed as he stepped closer. “Well…” Now what? “Are the police on their way? They don’t usually take a report over the phone. They generally dispatch an officer to do that.”

  His eyes narrowed. “You seem to know a lot about the process.”

  “I watch a lot of crime TV.” And she’d helped several acquaintances get out of abusive situations. One of the many reasons she wanted to become a prosecuting attorney.

  He moved behind her. “Do you have any stalker ex-boyfriends I should be aware of?”

  “That’s none of your business,” she breathed. But she couldn’t think when his body heat was blanketing her backside like that.

  “So I can be intimate with your body, but not your mind?”

  His rough whisper made her feel faint and quivery and a little bit afraid. Like she’d conquered the steep side of a cliff and now wondered how in hell she was going to get back down. Her spine was ramrod straight, though his lazy caress on her arm made her want to melt against him.

  “Let’s keep our emotions out of this.”

  His fingertips stilled on her arm for a moment. She held her breath until his hand began moving again. “It’s been ages since I tangled with such a contrary woman.”

  “Contrary.”

  “Yes, your cold speech is notably discordant with your body language.”

  Oh, he was a wicked one. “Good grief, listen to you. You said yourself it’s the drug in my system.”

  He turned her around to look at him. “Your pupils are dilated right now, Jess. Before, when you were bewitched, they were tiny pinpricks. That means, your current hunger is All. About. Me.”

  Her retort expired when his lips closed around her earlobe.

  Damn. What a speech. And he’d said ‘bewitched.’ Who talked like that?

  She was on a fast moving train to Heartbreak City because the painful truth was she wanted him. Badly. His heat, his devil-may-care arrogance, his manner of speaking.

  All of it loud and large and in her face.

  She placed her hands on his pectorals and turned her lips to his. A kiss. On her terms. This merging of mouths was her decision, and that felt important.

  Until she forgot to think anymore.

  His lips were hard and soft at the same time. Warm. She always felt warm around him. The heat filled her, his hands on her upper arms, drawing her closer. She sighed into his mouth. His heavy breath was arousing.

  That she could also bring him to this state was...delicious.

  She brought a hand to his neck and felt his pulse hammering there. “Mmm, I like you.”

  His chest rumbled. She vocalized in return, nuzzling his jaw, dotting kisses along that gruff plane of his cheek. When her hand snuck under his shirt, his ab wall jerked. His chest shook. No, his whole body was shaking. His lips were extra firm against hers as though stretched tightly over his teeth. And…

  Wait, what?

  She leaned back a fraction. When the fog in her brain cleared, heat flooded her cheeks. She pushed at his chest and brought her palms to her flaming face. “Mind telling me what is so amusing?”

  He wrapped his arms around her again in a tight hug, trying to keep his laughter from spilling out, but failing miserably, the knave. “Jessie, you are such a joy. I like you, too. So very much.”

  Score another one for the whole no-mouth-filter thing that her mother had harped about endlessly. Cheese and rice, Jessie. Would it be too much to ask to make out with a guy without humiliating herself?

  And honestly, how could she actually like him?

  The fact that it was true was such a betrayal to Mason.

  She hung her head, wanting to bolt, but knowing it was pointless since she’d signed the contract.

  Nate kissed the top of her head. “No one has told me they liked me for a terribly long time. Thank you for that.” His long fingers plucked her hands from her cheeks. “You make everything that is old, fresh and invigorating again. I laugh because I’m happy. Not because I’m mocking you.”

  She swallowed and quickly looked at the fireplace that had been lit as though waiting for her. She’d never made anyone happy. What a revelation, and he didn’t even seem embarrassed by the admission. His honesty struck at her defenses more surely than anything else he could have done.

  She peeked at him once more—he was still smiling, wow—before she lost her nerve. “I’m glad you’re happy.”

  “So am I, Angel. It’s a feeling that has alluded me for some time now.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” The warmth in his eyes was too much. Her stomach twirled and fluttered. She blinked and brought her gaze to the fireplace again. “How did you know which bedroom I’d choose?”

  He waited to speak until she brought her eyes back to his. “It just felt like you.”

  Damn, now he was casting his own spell on her with sweet considerations like that. How many of the guys she’d dated over the years would be able to accurately determine what kind of details she’d love in her most private sanctuary?

  Zilch, baby. Yet Nate had done so effortlessly. He was obviously much more observant than she’d given him credit for.

  He walked her to the door that led to the hallway. “Come. The criminal will be dealt with, but in the mean time, I hope you’re hungry.” His smile was as innocent as it was likely to get on such a sexy specimen.

  “I need to make a quick call. Can I borrow your phone?”

  Nate narrowed his eyes. “Yours should work. I don’t know why you were having trouble earlier.” He kissed the undersides of her wrists, then slipped from the room.

  Ten minutes later, Jessie realized her call to Emily had been a mistake. She’d meant to act like everything was normal, but her best friend had not only given her the third degree for leaving such a vague text earlier, but she’d also coerced Jessie into divulging the whole story of Nate’s salacious proposal.

  The good news was, it was a phone conversation so Jessie had been able to hang up on Emily’s rant about women who were too stupid to live.

  The bad news? Jessie had texted Nate’s address to Emily when she’d first arrived.

  Knowing Emily, she’d be here within the hour.

  Outstanding. Jessie tossed her phone on the bed, rubbed her face with both hands, then made her way downstairs, barely able to appreciate the home’s lavish architecture and woodwork.

  Breathe. What she needed to do was take control of the situation like she’d started to do in the bedroom. After they had sex for the first time, things wouldn’t be so terribly awkward, and this unraveled feeling in her gut would go away.

  She followed her nose to the inviting scents coming from the kitchen. If she were the cooking kind, this would definitely be a dream setup with the long center island that somehow looked classy, efficient, and homey at the same time. But what held her attention was the man standing next to it. His back was to her, his dark hair curling over the edge of his collar. Those wide shoulders would be the perfect anchor as he loved her long and hard.

  Whoa. Loved?

  She wiped a hand across her brow. Funny how terminology could make a girl so nervous. Then again, she had a thing for words. “Let’s get this over with, shall we?”

  He laid his santoku knife on the marble counter top and turned to her. “Get this over with?”

  A shaky smile curled her lips. “The first time is bound to be embarrassing because of this whole…” she waved her hand in the air, “transaction.”

  “Embarrassing, huh?” He poured two glasses of champagne and advanced on her. “Transaction?”

  She took a step back. “Is there an echo in here?” Decadence had a smell. Him. She dug deep for her JBlaze persona. “That’s what this is, you know. Why not call a spade a spade. Or maybe a ho a ho since I’m having sex with you for money.” God, please don’t ever let Gramma and Grandpa find out.

  He stilled, one brow lifting slightly. �
��I don’t ever—and I mean ever—want to know about the men you’ve brought to your bed, Jessie, but by God, they’ve all been doing it wrong if you think making love is a shameful business. Bloody hell, that pisses me off.”

  So much in his eyes.

  He looked provoked. Unpredictable, too. Funny thing was, she didn’t feel scared anymore. Well, not scared-scared.

  More like alert.

  Edgy.

  “How do you see it then?” she asked.

  He handed her one of the champagne flutes, then toasted her. “Naturalia non sunt turpia. What is natural is not dirty.”

  She had to admit, she rather liked that adage. The swoon-worthy foreign language bit, too. The tang of the bubbly liquid exploded on her tongue as she took a deep draught. He watched her swallow and somehow it made her bold. “Latin is a dead language, you know. You sure you’re not a closet lawyer, botanist, or doctor?”

  “I only play them on TV,” he drawled.

  “How about priest?”

  His smile was truly wicked. “Oh, baby, I’d never qualify. I need lots of redeeming.”

  “Care to elaborate?”

  “That’s a long, sad tale best saved for never.” His eyes grew hooded. “What we’re doing here is taking care of our needs. Yours happens to be financial security. Mine is my immoderate desire for you.”

  Her breath stalled. That sounded kind of creepy. But then she was probably letting her conversation about Satanic paraphernalia with Mason influence her.

  “Do you know why I insisted you come here tonight?”

  “Because you’re an imperious Cro-Magnon?” she retorted.

  His amusement flowed around her. “More highbrow words. I fancy that. Truly.”

  She watched his swarthy throat as he downed his champagne. She wet her lips, trying not to think about why watching him drink—his lips in contact with the light-reflecting crystal—should be so absurdly arousing. “Okay, I’ll play along. Why do you want me here tonight?”

  “Because you think too much.”

  “Afraid I’d come to my senses?” She hiccupped a laugh. “Well, surprise! Guess that hasn’t happened yet.” She drank the last of her champagne, too. He grabbed her around the waist to hoist her onto the countertop. “Sure you want me up here? This doesn’t seem right.” She had no doubt the ten feet of marble cost more than her car.

  “Hmm, I see what you mean.” He swiveled away to grab something out of the widest refrigerator she’d ever seen. Before she could protest, he’d hoisted her ass and hiked the hem of her red dress to her groin. He held a bottle of chocolate syrup aloft and drizzled the sweet brown liquid over her legs like she was a damn brownie.

  Drizzled with intent. Deliberate and meticulous.

  When he was done, his gaze lifted to hers. His eyes flashed blue-black flames. “Much better.”

  The sensation of the cool marble against her thighs and the wet syrup oozing down her overheated skin was impossibly erotic. She closed her eyes, fingers curling around the edge of the counter.

  Oh, wow, she felt relaxed.

  And Nate looked good enough to eat. The way his gaze was telling her he was gonna—

  No.

  There was no way she could have sex in here. No way. The lights were too bright, and if she was sitting upright like this he’d see her belly pooch out all over the place. She needed to be lying down, maybe with her legs cocked at a forty-five degree angle—

  “W-what are you doing?” She gasped when he leaned down, his tongue following the trail of chocolate up her thighs.

  He spread her legs to move in closer. “I’ll buy you a new dress. A wardrobe full of them.” His hoarse voice made her nipples contract. Or was it from his fingers curling into the fleshy part of her upper ass? So many sensations at once she couldn’t keep track.

  He sucked on the inside of her thigh, his thumb stroking her lacy black thong, gently at first until she shivered and opened her legs wider, trying not to be too obvious about it.

  “That’s it. No need for inhibitions when you’re with me.” He proceeded to give her a panty-melting thigh hickey before moving north to press an open-mouthed kiss against the lace. Her hips relaxed. A moan rolled out of her throat before she could stop it. Her head lolled back, one hand propped behind her on the counter, the other in his hair.

  Moments later he tugged her dress upward, exposing more of her body. “Ah, wait, I don’t think…” Her words muffled as her arms drew upward when he slipped the garment over her head.

  Now she was down to her bra and thong, desperately trying not to fold her arms across her body. She peeked at him from beneath her eyelashes, shivering when he sucked in a breath, his gaze fevered as it devoured her.

  He didn’t appear disgusted. Still, she leaned back on her elbows to smooth out her belly, trying not to look like she was sucking it in. If he’d continue his sensual assault instead of stopping all the time this would be so much easier. She could stay in the moment instead of—

  “Get out of your head, woman. You make my mouth water.”

  He trailed a finger across her sticky thighs before leaning over to pour her another glass of champagne. She took it even though Emily’s words about foolish women seared through her brain.

  Maybe this glass would shut it all off. The insecurity about her body. The guilt that she was agreeing to get paid for sex. The anxiety about not knowing who this guy was.

  But until this second glass of bubbly worked its magic, she had to at least make an effort to be disciplined and logical. Because that’s what lawyer-types were supposed to do. Right? “Just so you know, I’m not keen on having intercourse right here.”

  He raised an eyebrow, his eyes positively twinkling. Oh, he was handsome.

  And he got points for not smiling this time.

  “How about cunnilingus?”

  She sputtered and carefully set her glass down. “Why do you always stop—” she waved a hand down her body a little wildly, “what you’ve started? It’s not normal.”

  He inched forward to lick the champagne sliding into her cleavage. “Why do you always have to think things to death?” he asked.

  “Because it’s who I am. If you don’t like it—”

  He hooked an arm around her back to scoot her toward the counter’s edge, wringing a gasp from her as her southern bits crashed into his. “I like everything about you. Even the parts that make me crazy. That good enough reasoning for you, Socrates?”

  I want it to be. She rested her forearms on top of his shoulders. “I love your accent. Say Socrates again.”

  “Socrates. Socrates. Socratesss.” He whispered the last utterance so slowly and fervently it could have been the most intimate secret in the world. His gaze smiled into hers while firm proof of his desire pressed hotly against the wispy material of her thong. Geez, that was nice.

  His eyes were totally asking questions.

  She threaded her fingers through his hair and felt the tension go out of him as she closed the short distance between them to lay her lips against his. He took control from there, his tongue sweeping through her mouth for long hazy moments until his teeth nipped at the corners of her lips. She was beyond ready for third base when he eased back and walked to the refrigerator.

  “You like fruit, Jessie?”

  “Did you really just walk away from me again?” Her head was fuzzy, her groin was burning, and after an incinerating kiss like that, if he was going to talk about food she was gonna slay him with his overpriced Japanese knife.

  And she’d make it messy.

  Messy like the tray of juicy things he returned with. Strawberries, pomegranate arils, frozen grapes. And honey.

  She tried not to squirm as he eased her bra straps down and squeezed a line of gooey honey across the tops of her breasts. The honey clung to her skin briefly before trickling down her favorite underwire bra that was working overtime.

  “You can’t imagine how I’ve dreamed of this.” He leaned down to plant open-mouthed kisse
s on her skin, lapping up the sweet syrup like he was a starving man.

  She decided then and there that she loved honey. And bees. “I like bees,” she murmured.

  He pulled his head out of her cleavage, bracketed his hands on the counter on either side of her hips, and gave her a satisfied smirk. “I’m glad, Angel.”

  Then he was kissing her belly, and she gave up trying to suck it in because she was eating the juiciest strawberries she’d ever tasted, and she was ready—really freakin’ ready—to bring more JBlaze into her everyday life.

  Nate worked his way across her pelvic bone to nuzzle the ruffled edge of her thong. The man was a god with his mouth and hands. “You are uncommonly good at, ahhh…that.”

  The reverb of his low masculine chuckle at her groin made her head fall back with a throaty moan. Hells yes, throaty.

  “I like throaty, too. Good word, that,” she whispered.

  “Indeed.”

  He voiced ‘lights, low,’ and the kitchen dimmed. Nice. She was about to tell him he should’ve done that sooner, but he placed a frozen grape in his mouth and promptly kissed her. When she wrapped her arms around his neck, he slipped the icy fruit between her lips. She shivered before her muscles went supple as a full-tilt, pleasantly buzzed sensation flooded through her.

  Everything about this man was erotic. From the way he moved, to the way he talked, dressed, and pinned her with his hungry gaze like he was gonna devour her. “I’m so relaxed, Nate.”

  The man actually growled. A giggle burst from her lips. Seriously, what the hell? She wasn’t the giggling sort.

  He kissed the corners of her lip. “It’s the champagne. The vintage is decadent, is it not? But that’s enough for now. I want you lucid.”

  His mouth trailed down to where her pulse beat at the base of her neck. He nipped at her the moment her teeth pierced the tender flesh of the grape. She almost came from the multiple sensations he was evoking with his busy mouth and gentle-then-rough hands.

  “Decadent. Lucid.” She molded the words with her lips and tongue, enjoying the slow slide of vowels and consonants. “Have I ever told you how much I love words? Like, I really love them. The way they flow over my tongue. Even vulgar words sound beautiful when you say them.” She grabbed his face and brought his head up. “You are beautiful, Nate.”