“Why would I do that?” Tristan asked. His voice had gone low, quiet in a way that made Sarah’s pulse jump. “You said yourself you want to make this up to me.”
“There’s nothing for me to make up for,” Sarah said. “You’re fine.”
“But I was hurt,” Tristan replied. “Ares takes his tramplings quite seriously.”
Tristan’s grip on her wrists was unyielding but not painful. Where his fingers wrapped around her skin warmth began to spread—up her arms, over her shoulders, spilling through her chest.
Sarah swallowed hard, but her voice came out hoarse anyway. “What do you want?”
Why the hell did I ask that?
His smile somehow managed to be gentle and wicked at the same time. “I have another challenge for you.”
“I’m tired of your challenges.” Sarah tried to wriggle out of his grip, but he held her down.
“Really?” Tristan’s gold-flecked eyes teased her. “But you’ve done so well. I’ve barely had the chance to question you.”
Sarah pulled her gaze from his, hoping that might help her focus on something other than how warm she felt. She tried to shut out the image of the taut muscles of his arms and shoulders. The way his jeans hung loose on his narrow hips so that they slid dangerously low when he moved.
“If I accept this challenge, will you let me up?” she asked, still looking away.
“Possibly.”
Bringing her narrowed eyes back to his, Sarah snapped, “Why should I accept, then?”
“My answer was ‘possibly’ because of the nature of the challenge.” Tristan surprised her when he released one of her wrists. He touched her cheek. His fingers trailed over her jaw and stroked her neck.
“What’s the challenge?” Sarah’s pulse was dancing at her throat. She wondered if Tristan could feel it.
“Kiss me,” Tristan said, running his fingers lightly over her collarbone. “But that’s all.”
“That’s all.” Sarah stared at him. Her breath was coming in shallow pulls. “How is that a challenge?”
Tristan leaned down. His breath caressed her ear when he murmured, “Because I think you’ll need more.”
As her eyes closed, Sarah didn’t doubt that he was right. If she did kiss Tristan, she’d want much more from him. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t overpower her own desires with the force of her will. If Sarah was anything, she was stubborn.
How hard could it be to stop at one kiss?
“Fine,” Sarah said, but angled her neck away from his face. “I accept.”
Tristan moved so he hovered over her once more. “Good.” His teasing smile was gone, and there was a softness in his gaze, but behind that Sarah saw hunger.
He bent toward her, but Sarah put her hand firmly against his chest.
“I thought you were taking on the challenge,” Tristan said.
“I am,” Sarah replied, giving him a push until he was kneeling above her instead of pressing her into the mattress. “But the challenge is for me to kiss you. Not the other way around.”
Though he frowned, Tristan let Sarah slide up until she was seated beside him.
Grasping the small advantage she’d gained, Sarah told him, “If I’m kissing you, I get to decide how it happens.”
“Fair enough.” Tristan shrugged, a curious smile flitting over his mouth. “So, how do you want me?”
Sarah swallowed a groan but didn’t take the bait. “Right there is fine,” she answered, keeping her tone nonchalant.
She moved into a kneeling position that mirrored Tristan’s. Facing him, she leaned forward slightly. As she closed the small distance between them, Tristan’s gaze slipped from her eyes to her mouth. He reached for her.
“No.” Sarah grasped Tristan’s wrists and placed his hands at his sides. “I’m kissing you, and that’s all.”
He laughed quietly but nodded.
Drawing a long breath in a vain attempt to slow her heartbeat, Sarah rested her fingers lightly on either side of Tristan’s jaw. She let her eyes close just before her lips touched his, feather soft—it was the barest whisper of a kiss.
Even from that slight contact, Sarah had to quell the shudder of intense pleasure that wanted to grab hold of her. Knowing that if she pulled away now, Tristan would argue she hadn’t managed a real kiss, Sarah parted her lips. Tristan’s mouth opened in reply, and Sarah took his lower lip between her teeth.
The sheets beneath her rustled, and Sarah opened her eyes just enough to glimpse Tristan’s fists clenched around the bedclothes. Smiling, she released his lip and slipped her tongue into his mouth.
She almost lost control.
He tasted extraordinary. Warm and rich, with an enticing bite. Sarah’s hands left Tristan’s face to slide around his neck. She pulled him closer, wanting a deeper kiss. A kiss that reached inside her to touch the heat pooling so low and sweet in her body.
It was the sound of her own small sigh of pleasure that brought Sarah back from the brink. Tristan was doing a fine job of keeping himself in check. His fingers still dug into the sheets, and he returned her kiss, his tongue gently stroking hers, his lips responding to each new touch, but he didn’t try to make the kiss his own.
Summoning the small shred of will she had left, Sarah gentled the kiss. She unlaced her fingers from Tristan’s neck and touched his face in a reversal of the way their kiss began. She parted their lips, put her hands beside her knees, and, keeping her eyes closed, pushed back from him.
After taking another deep breath, Sarah opened her eyes. Tristan was staring at her, disbelief naked on his face. Under any other circumstances Sarah would have laughed at his stunned expression, but she barely could keep herself from reaching out and pulling Tristan back into her arms. Moving with deliberate slowness, she uncurled her legs and swung them over the edge of the bed, praying she didn’t teeter when she stood up.
Sarah rose, straightened her shoulders, and was thankful for every steady step she managed to take until she reached the door. Her hand was trembling as she reached for the knob and turned it. She’d opened the door just a crack when suddenly Tristan was behind her.
He reached over Sarah with one hand and slammed the door shut. His other hand grasped her hip, turning her to face him.
“You win.” Tristan’s eyes were alight with something Sarah couldn’t name. Anger? Lust? Both?
Whatever it was, it emanated from him in waves, and Sarah wondered if she should be frightened.
“I win,” she whispered, staying very still.
Then Tristan’s mouth was on hers and there was nothing gentle in this kiss. It was rough and demanding, and exactly what Sarah wanted. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and he lifted her up, carrying her across the room to lay her on the bed.
Tristan stretched over her, and Sarah let her hands roam the way she’d wanted them to when she’d been kissing him moments ago. Her fingers tangled in his hair, traced the shape of his strong shoulders. She pressed her palms flat against him to skim over the carved lines of his chest and the ridges of his abdomen, then slid her hands around his lower back.
Her lips were swollen from his kisses, but she met the force of his tongue and teeth eagerly, her mouth asking for more in turn. Tristan broke their kiss to trail his lips along her throat. His hands slid from her waist, up her ribs, and paused at the swell of her breasts.
Sarah moaned and arched up into his palms, feeling her nipples harden at his touch.
This is too much, too much. Her mind was a storm of sensation. It’s not enough. Not nearly enough.
Her fingers dug into his back and Tristan reached up to grasp the sides of her blouse. With one hard tug, buttons went flying, exposing the delicate lace of her bra. Tristan bent to kiss the tops of Sarah’s breasts, at the same time reaching behind her. Sarah ar
ched up again to accommodate his hand and gave a cry of anticipation and relief when he unhooked her bra, freeing her breasts. Lifting her partly off the bed, Tristan used his free hand to pull her blouse off, then her bra, tossing both aside.
Holding Sarah tight to his body, Tristan moved to a kneeling position that left Sarah straddling him. His hands gripped her lower back and rocked her into his hips. She gasped when the softness between her legs met with the hard length of Tristan’s cock. His hips thrust forward as his mouth covered the tip of her breast. Tristan’s tongue circled her nipple, and a rush of heat and dampness at her core made Sarah whimper.
She was no longer holding Tristan but clinging to him, desperate for him to relieve the ache building inside her.
“Tristan.”
Something in her voice made him pull back to look at her face. What he saw there enticed a slow, dangerous smile across his mouth.
Tristan didn’t say anything as he leaned forward, pushing Sarah back onto the mattress while he stretched over her. His lips returned to hers, his kisses slow and deep.
He reached between them to unbutton and unzip her jeans. Without prompting she raised her hips so he could slide them off. Then his palm pressed between her legs. Sarah arched up against his hand and he groaned, slipping his fingers beneath the silk of her panties.
“Christ,” he whispered, finding her hot and slick under his touch. “You’re so wet.”
Words seemed lost to Sarah; all she could do was writhe against Tristan’s hand as he stroked her. She’d never thought an ache could be so unbearable and feel so good at the same time. Her body seemed to know that it needed something from Tristan, something she’d never had but wanted desperately. And it wasn’t that Sarah didn’t grasp the concept of fucking. But understanding the mechanics and living the sensation were more different than she ever had imagined.
“Please.” She managed to get one hoarse word out.
Still caressing her with one hand, Tristan’s other hand moved to the fly of his jeans. Sarah watched, riveted, as Tristan freed his cock, which had been straining against the fabric. Her moan of pleasure at the sight of his arousal surprised her, but Tristan smiled as he kicked off his jeans.
Taking one of Sarah’s hands, Tristan guided it to his erection. When her fingers closed around the length of him, Tristan closed his eyes and groaned. Sarah’s breath came faster. His cock felt more than good in her hand—thick and strong, straining against her touch. His skin was like silk, so surprising in contrast to how hard and insistent his erection was.
Sarah took a firmer grip, moving her hand up and down his length, and Tristan clenched his jaw. He caught Sarah off guard by slipping a finger inside her. Her hips bucked up instantly and she cried out, another rush of hot dampness flooding through her.
Withdrawing his hand, Tristan brought his finger to his mouth and Sarah shivered as she watched him.
“I want to spend a long time tasting you, Sarah.” Tristan bent over her and nuzzled her belly. “But I think it will have to be later. Right now I can’t wait.”
Sarah’s hips bucked again; the ache between her legs had taken her body hostage. “No waiting. I need . . .”
Her voice trailed off. Her body knew what it wanted, but her mind balked. Did she need this? All her instincts were screaming yes, but what little rational thought lingered reminded her that she didn’t actually know. She’d never been there before.
Tristan kissed his way up her body, lingering at her breasts until she was writhing beneath his weight. She let go of his cock, burying her fingers in his hair and cradling his head as his tongue flicked over her nipples.
Screw rational. Sarah parted her mouth for Tristan when he bent over her again, kissing him eagerly. I want this. I want this so much.
Still kissing her, Tristan stripped off Sarah’s panties and then his fingers delved back into her wet folds. His thumb found her clit and began to stroke it. Sarah’s limbs trembled, sounds emerging from her throat of their own volition. She no longer had a sense of reality, only the waves of pleasure Tristan’s touch evoked.
He kissed her earlobe, whispering, “Do you want me to make you come first? Or do you want this now?”
Tristan nudged her thighs farther apart and she felt the head of his cock press into the slick heat just shy of her opening.
“Tell me.” Tristan pushed a bit farther and Sarah felt a surprising tension, and sudden awareness that there would be more than pleasure when he entered her.
Of course she’d known that. But tangled in Tristan’s embrace, Sarah had forgotten that this moment would be weighty with trepidation as well as desire.
Tristan was smiling down at her, waiting for her reply. A part of her wished he would just thrust into her, even if it meant pain now and an uncomfortable explanation later. But his eyes were locked on hers, and she knew he wouldn’t go on until she asked him to.
“I want—” Sarah couldn’t break her gaze from Tristan’s. “I don’t know. I haven’t—”
“Haven’t what?” Tristan’s smile faded. “Sarah, you’re not . . . Are you telling me you’re a virgin?”
Sarah didn’t answer. She didn’t have to. Tristan’s eyes widened and his face paled slightly. Without warning he jerked back from her, as if she’d put a lit match to his skin. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood up, his fists clenching and unclenching. Startled, Sarah grabbed the edge of the sheet and drew it up to cover herself to the waist.
“Bloody hell.” Tristan grabbed his jeans from the foot of the bed. “Bloody fucking hell, Sarah.”
His movements were stiff with anger. He tugged his jeans on while she watched in stunned silence.
Without another word, he was across the room and out the door, slamming it shut behind him.
19
TRISTAN BLEW PAST Seamus and down the hall. He didn’t stop until he reached the small bathroom attached to his study.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
He was too furious to think, not too mention still so hard it made his teeth hurt.
Gripping the marble basin with one hand, Tristan opened his fly and drew out his swollen cock. He began stroking himself with long, swift pulls. When Tristan closed his eyes he could still see Sarah, panting beneath him; feel the weight of her breasts in his hands when he kneaded them. He gritted his teeth, fully aware how heavy his balls were, how his cock grew even stiffer as he remembered being on the verge of pushing inside her.
God. She’d been so ready for him. So wet. He could only imagine how tight she would have been when he . . .
Tristan let out a groan as he came, his hot spurt of semen hitting the bathroom wall. He leaned against the sink, having found the release he needed. But it was a bitter way to get off, considering he’d been about to have a beautiful woman whom he wanted far more than he should.
“You know, I could have helped you with that.”
Tristan looked up and saw Lana’s reflection in the bathroom mirror. Her wings gave an irritated little flutter.
“I’m not in the mood, Lana.”
Lana stepped forward and ran her hands along his bare shoulder blades. “You were in the mood, but you finished without me. I bet I could bring you back though, so it’s not a total loss.”
One of her hands slipped around his waist to where his fly was still open. She grasped his cock that, while recently spent, was still half-erect. He clenched his jaw when he felt himself twitch with arousal at her touch. Tristan had no doubt that Lana could have him hard again in a matter of seconds. He also knew he could turn around and tell her to get on her knees and stay there until he had his satisfaction.
But it wasn’t Lana who had gotten him so riled up he’d had to jerk himself off in the bathroom like some randy teenager. It wasn’t Lana he wanted. He knew he would never want the succubus in his bed again.
Tristan swatted Lana’s hand away from his cock and buttoned up his jeans. “If I need something from you, I’ll ask.”
A growl drew Tristan’s gaze beyond Lana. Seamus stood just outside the bathroom door. Tristan was glad to note that the wolf’s angry gaze was for Lana and not him.
Lana’s nose crinkled up. “When was the last time you had a bath, dog?”
Seamus ignored her, turning his attention to Tristan.
“What it is, Seamus?” Tristan asked.
“The young lady has returned to her own room,” Seamus replied. “I thought you’d want to know that.”
“Thank you,” Tristan walked around Lana, who remained stubbornly between him and the door. “Lana, please tell the kitchen staff that I’ll expect dinner at the usual time tomorrow.”
“You’ll be dining alone I assume?” Lana asked.
“No,” Tristan said. “They should prepare a meal for two.”
Tristan hesitated when he passed Seamus. He wanted to ask if Sarah had seemed all right when she’d left his room, if she’d been upset. But he could do no such thing with Lana hovering nearby.
Though he knew it could only be an uncomfortable conversation, Tristan made up his mind to confront Sarah rather than delay the inevitable. He stopped to pull on a T-shirt before heading to her room.
When he reached her door and lifted his hand to knock, Tristan froze, realizing he had no idea what he planned to say. His thoughts remained scattered. What if she’d gone to bed and he was about to disturb her?
Tristan was still standing outside Sarah’s room, debating what his first words should be, when the door opened.
“Tristan.” Sarah’s eyes widened. She’d changed into a long, silk robe that clung to her curves. Tristan’s jaw clenched when he felt his cock stir simply from the sight of her.
Fucking hell.
But upon seeing Tristan at her door, Sarah clutched the robe’s neckline, hiding any bare skin, and shrank away.
Is that what I’ve done? She’s afraid of me?
“I—I was going to the baths before I turned in for the night.” Sarah sounded as frightened as she looked.
Captive Page 16
