He tore at the button on her jeans, and she heard an ominous sound when he ripped the zipper down and shoved the denim away, but she didn’t care, because his wonderful fingers found their way inside her panties—oh Gods—inside her.
Hard and thick, but still not enough.
Andi forced her eyes open in time to see his midnight black hair sliding over her breast as he kissed his way to her other nipple. She arched into his hot mouth and caught a glimpse of something shiny above her.
The handcuffs.
She shut her eyes for a second at the reminder of her true situation, feeling her hips jerk up to meet his demanding fingers, her body wet and open to him despite the situation.
And a terrible idea occurred to her.
She swallowed hard, then caught her breath when he pinched her clit as he’d done to her nipples, and fiery shards of pleasure exploded in her belly.
She rolled again and he let her, his fingers teasing her now, his purely masculine smile filled with danger and desire. She shut her eyes when he urged her lower so he could capture her breast, his rough tongue sending goosebumps along her skin when it danced over her aching nipple.
She caught his free hand and stretched his arm out, offering her body into his mouth and wildly hoping it was distraction enough.
“Touch me,” he commanded, his breath scalding against her nipple. His fingers slid deep, then withdrew to stroke her wet folds.
Andi reared up, reluctant to release him, but she undid the button on the front of his pants, the zipper. Found him bare and hard. Her fingers lingered over his flesh, tightening around the steely shaft before sliding up to the silky tip, already damp with his desire. She dared a peek and found his eyes shut. And his wrist was within reach of the open cuff attached to the bedstead.
It suddenly occurred to her that he had the keys.
She winced when her next move dislodged his fingers from her aching sheath, but his pants had to go. She pushed them down his long legs and paused to admire the strong muscles of his thighs, then stroked along hair-spattered calves. The boots delayed her a little, but he waited, his green eyes open now and dark with promise.
The man was gorgeous. She pressed a kiss on his knee as she dropped his pants to the floor behind her. He was very nearly a god. She inhaled shakily while she stroked her hands up his thighs and captured his erection between them. His hips jerked up, and she kissed the smooth head, tasting salt and man.
“I want to kiss you again, Andrea. I can’t get enough of your mouth,” he whispered, holding out one hand to her.
She hesitated, knowing she’d reached the point of no return. She let him take her hand and straddled him, his heavy cock sliding easily along her wet folds. Gods, she wanted him.
But if she could get away…
She bent to catch his mouth with hers, then slid her tongue into his mouth. She moaned when he suckled it, hard. As if it was one of her nipples. “Let me touch you,” she breathed against his mouth, stretching his arms over his head—both of them this time. She kissed him while she dragged her hands down from his wrists past the dark scythe tattooed on the inside of his left bicep, to his chest. Still very aware of the erection so close to where she really needed it. She scratched her nails lightly over his nipples, and a rough, startled sound escaped him. She repeated the motion, and this time, his hips lifted, lodging the head of his cock just inside her.
Andi gasped, then shifted up, off, quickly, and snapped his wrist into the cuff before she stumbled off the bed.
She’d done it.
Horrified, she dragged her gaze from the metal cuff around his wrist to his narrowed eyes, one hand clapped over her mouth.
“I didn’t know you were into kinky,” he said slowly.
Heat rushed to her face, and she shook her head, taking a step away.
“You want my other hand, too? Then you can really have your way with me.” He held out his other arm, a dangerous smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“No,” she whispered, backing another step away. Still, her brain obliged her by bringing up that image behind her eyes. Her heartbeat stuttered.
“Stop, Andrea.”
She froze.
“Come back here and kiss me.”
Andi blinked. “I don’t have the key on me,” she said after a second. Duh. Of course she didn’t, since she was as naked as he was.
“I’m not asking for the key, but for a kiss.”
She knew he wanted the key. But his eyes were still dark with desire. She couldn’t stop her gaze from dropping lower. More heat burned her cheeks. Wow.
“Andrea.” The tiny hint of accent in his voice made her shiver. “Just a kiss. For now.” He even stretched his free hand up to grip another bar on the headboard.
She found herself taking a step toward him.
“Come kiss me again, meli,” he said, his voice even huskier.
She swallowed hard, then moved nearer still.
His hungry gaze made her mouth tingle.
Cautiously, she perched on the edge of the bed at his side.
“I promise I won’t touch.” His gaze never left her lips.
Andi bent toward him, hearing his breathing quicken. Under hers, his lips parted easily, and his tongue slid along her lower lip before dipping into her mouth, nudging her own.
Another blast of heat exploded in her belly.
“Touch me again,” he whispered, nipping at her lower lip. “I want your hands on me, Andrea. I want to be inside you.”
Common sense tried to rear its head. He was contained. He couldn’t free himself—at least, not without some effort, and she could be long gone by then.
But her body still ached. Surely she had a little time… She lifted one hand to stroke down the center of his chest, following the thin line of dark hair on his abdomen to the erection that still stood tall, beckoning her.
“Or your mouth.”
Her mouth watered at the thought, and she unconsciously licked her lower lip.
“Please.”
It was the pleading. That was all. She bent to kiss his chest again, her mouth following the path her hand had just taken, slowly working her way to his groin. His musky scent called to her, enhancing her need—increasing it. When she finally opened her mouth over the tip of his cock, her inner thighs were wet with her desire. She ignored that for now, concentrating on the taste of him.
He was delicious, salty and musky, and all male. She took him deep, then retreated to lick her way around the thick shaft, hearing his groans and the soft words of encouragement he offered.
And when his body tightened, she felt a rush of excitement. His pleasure was entirely in her hands. Or mouth.
“Andrea.”
She glanced up at him, sucking lightly on his cock.
“Goddess,” he ground out. “I want to be inside you. Please let me come inside you.”
A dark flush rode his cheeks, his chest rose and fell rapidly, and his eyes were a deep dark green, full of desire.
She released his erection reluctantly—allowing herself one last lick over the head, which made him jerk toward her—and straddled him once more, this time with his cock standing up in front of her.
She met his gaze, and her heart beat faster yet at the things she saw there. The desire. The promise of incredible pleasure.
“Take me in.”
She couldn’t resist. She lifted her hips and caught her breath at the first touch of his cock in her wet folds.
“So hot and wet,” he murmured. “For me.” His accent deepened, his whisper guttural and rough. “Slide down, Andrea.”
She hesitated, torn between wanting to impale herself on him and wanting to draw the moment out just a little longer.
His hips lifted, wedging him a tiny bit deeper.
“Oh.” She shut her eyes and braced her hands low on his ribs.
“Take it.”
She started to ease down, feeling him stretch her sheath with every increment of every inch, her bod
y clenching around him already. “Oh Gods,” she moaned.
He jerked his hips upward again, forcing his way in—to the root—and she cried out in pleasure and surprise. “Don’t move,” he ordered.
Andi wanted to move. Very badly. Her thighs quivered with the need to move. Her release was so close. Oh Gods, so close.
“Touch yourself.”
Her gaze flew upward to meet his.
“Like you did in the shower this morning.”
Heat burned her cheeks, both desire and embarrassment.
“Show me.”
She gulped in some air and lifted her hands to her breasts, cupping and stroking them lightly.
“Are you imagining my hands?”
She nodded.
“Did you imagine me this morning?”
“Yes.” She stroked harder, pinching and twisting her nipples. Her sheath tightened on his erection, and she wanted to move. More than she wanted her next breath.
But she resisted.
She stroked and caressed her swollen breasts under his dangerous gaze, until she had to drop one hand to her clit. The hard little bundle of nerves throbbed, and when she brushed a fingertip over it, her hips shifted.
“Not yet.”
She bit her lip, tugging at one nipple and her clit simultaneously.
“How much can you take?”
“How much can you?” she countered. Within her body, his cock flexed and throbbed, as if burrowing deeper.
A faint smile curved his mouth. “Not much.”
Her fingertip at her clit brushed the base of his cock. “Oh, you feel good,” she breathed.
“Lift up.”
She shimmied her hips slowly upward, whimpering at the loss of that beautiful erection inside her. She glanced down to see his skin glistening with her wetness.
“Down again. Slowly.”
Panting now, she followed his instructions, each torturous movement driving her closer to the brink. Soft, breathy cries escaped her and his chest worked like a bellows, his thighs tight beneath her.
“Please.” She didn’t care that she was the one begging now—she just wanted him to let her fly.
“Give me your mouth, Andrea.”
She bent back to him blindly, sliding one hand into his hair to catch him, and the kiss this time was savage, all heat and reckless passion. When their hips shifted together now, the motion was instinctual, primitive, wild and fast. There was no Medusa, no Harvester. Simply man and woman. Mated. Fated.
And the pleasure was ten times more powerful than what she’d felt that morning. The explosion sent her into the abyss, tumbling freely, breathless.
Andi couldn’t stop shaking. Even minutes later, the trembling in her limbs wouldn’t stop. Aftershocks made her body tighten on his and his hips shifted against hers. He murmured into her hair, and she heard his wild heartbeat beneath her ear.
She wanted to stay right where she was.
It was the stupidest thing she’d ever wanted. Especially since freedom was not too far away. Just as far as her dresser, clean clothes, the door downstairs.
“Easy.” His lips grazed her forehead this time.
Her eyes burned, and she cursed her stupid hormones. She blinked hard and steeled herself. Lifted her hips away from his. Her breath hissed in as he groaned a protest. She felt cold suddenly.
Ignoring that, she clambered off the bed, searching for some piece of clothing to put on. She’d never felt so naked.
“Andrea.”
She ignored him too, moving to her dresser and taking out some clean clothes. She didn’t even notice what. With her stinging eyes, she couldn’t quite see the things she’d grabbed.
“Andrea.” His tone this time was harder, more insistent.
She glanced toward the bed.
“Don’t do this.”
“I have to.”
“It’s not safe.”
She forced a laugh. “Yeah, you’re so concerned for my safety. Does it really matter which one of you kills me? As long as it gets done?” She jerked on panties, then jeans before wrestling with a bra.
Kallan sat up, gripping the headboard with his cuffed hand. “Stavros won’t be as concerned with how he kills you, or how he gets the amulet.”
Andi swallowed as she yanked on her shirt, then froze when he put his free hand over the cuff on his wrist. She heard the unmistakable sound of it releasing before it jangled to the pillow.
Impossible.
He got to his feet, his green eyes dangerous now.
She dashed toward the door. She only made it halfway before he caught her, ripping one of the belt loops on her jeans in the process. She fought, striking whatever she could reach and wishing she’d at least gotten shoes on so she could do some real damage since he was still naked.
But the Harvester was stronger than she was, and he simply held on until she wore herself out.
Andi finally stopped struggling, her head drooping, breath coming hard again, but with far less satisfaction this time.
He carried her back to the bed and snapped her wrist into the handcuff, his mouth set in a hard line. “I have another set, if I need both of your hands out of commission,” he ground out.
She didn’t bother to answer, struggling still to catch her breath. And against more of the unexpected tears. Damned hormones.
He sat down beside her, hands braced on his hair-spattered knees. “I thought we were going to each do a little trusting,” he said finally.
She looked at the wall to her left, rather than at him. “I saw the handcuffs and I had to try.”
“Was it worth it?”
A scalding tear rushed down her cheek, making her glad she’d turned her face away.
“I know you weren’t faking,” he whispered, leaning nearer. “You can’t fake that.”
She bit her lip, swallowing around the giant lump in her throat.
“And neither was I.”
She barely kept herself from turning to look at him, but the shock still made her body jerk.
He rose and drifted a kiss on the top of her head. “Try to get some sleep.”
Behind her, she heard him gathering his clothing before he padded into the bathroom next door. The water ran briefly, and a few minutes later, she heard him slowly go downstairs.
She lifted her free hand at last to swipe at the tears on her face, closing her eyes.
She should have known this would turn out badly. Who knew the Harvester could undo locks without keys?
Her eyes flew open. What other abilities did he have that she didn’t know about yet?
Gods help her.
Chapter Four
Kallan sank onto the hard chair at the table and buried his face in his hands. Tonight wasn’t working out at all as he’d imagined it might. Andrea had warned him that morning she wouldn’t forget what he’d done last night. A mirthless laugh rumbled up his chest. He should have realized Andrea wouldn’t completely surrender. She was a fighter, his Medusa.
He frowned. She wasn’t his Medusa. She wasn’t his anything. Perhaps a temporary lover. And ultimately, his target. His family’s enemy.
That didn’t mean he’d allow his cousin get to her, however.
With that thought in mind, he booted up the laptop, fingers tapping over the keyboard. Sure enough, Great-Uncle Ari had responded to Kallan’s earlier posting, with a command to Stavros to head in the same direction rather than to follow his own lead. None of the cousins ever disobeyed Aristotle Tassos, even now when they were adults and hunting on their own—not even Stavros, arrogant and brutal as he was.
Breathing a small sigh of relief, Kallan idly pulled up his favorite page of the mythologies, one with plenty of photos of ancient artifacts to go along with the stories. Artifacts which had never been seen publicly, items that had instead passed down through generations of Harvesters. Currently, Cousin Demitrios was the keeper of the private collection, though word among the cousins was he wanted to get back in on the hunt and turn the curatorship ov
er to his brother Vasily. That was up to Great-Uncle Ari, and the old bastard never rushed a decision.
He scrolled through several pages until he got to the photo he was searching for. A large urn decorated in great detail, including a scene depicting the very beautiful Medusa about to be slain by Perseus. The first Medusa was gorgeous, with wide eyes and a generous figure. The spitting, hissing snakes atop her head didn’t detract at all from her beauty.
He looked up at the ceiling. There was only silence from Andrea’s bedroom. He wasn’t sure if that was good or bad.
He glanced again at the urn. Perhaps she should see it.
To what purpose, though? The voice in his head sounded very like Ari.
He frowned and picked up the computer, then headed for the steps and ignored the imaginary voice.
The light was still on in the bedroom, and Andrea sat just where he’d left her, her shoulders slumped.
Something in his chest tightened. He reminded himself she’d set this in motion, but he still felt a pang of guilt.
He cleared his throat. “I have something you should see.”
She didn’t move, didn’t jump, didn’t give any indication she’d heard him.
Kallan’s frown deepened as he crossed the room to her.
She was sleeping. Sitting there exactly where he’d left her, with tear stains on her cheeks.
Goddess, he felt even worse. He put the laptop on her dresser and turned back to the bed so he could ease her down into a more comfortable position. Certainly more comfortable than sleeping sitting up. She didn’t wake, just burrowed into the pillow, making an indistinct sound of protest.
For a moment, he watched her, trying to figure out why his chest ached and failing. He gave himself a shake and returned to the computer, then shut it down before he kicked off his shoes and stretched out behind her on the bed, careful not to disturb her. She’d had a rough enough day.
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