by Maya Banks
moment. “Maybe I can talk some sense into you.”
“I doubt it, but you can try.”
Despite the raging hard-on, he brushed past her and led the way to the Venetian with a smile on his face. If he could get her into his bed, then maybe tonight wouldn’t be a total failure. The wolf inside wagged its tail in delight.
Lana fiddled with her purse as she followed Byron, unsure how much trouble she was about to invite into her life. She didn’t miss the distinct bulge in his jeans when he passed her, nor the heavy innuendo in his words. He had made it clear that he wanted her, but also that he was leaving it up to her to determine how far they took things. The way her body reacted whenever she came near him told her she should jump his bones now before one of them ended up dead. Her mind, on the other hand, cautioned her not to give in to him blindly. He was hiding something from her, but what?
Espe’s whispered advice played again in her mind. Have a howling good time. What the hell did that mean? But as she caught a glimpse of the way his jeans clung to his tight ass, images of doing all kinds of naughty things came to mind. Her fingers itched to grab it, to pinch it, to feel the muscles slide under her palms as he pumped his cock deep inside her over and over again.
The cool desert night air suddenly felt like the noon sun. Damn, why had her mind gone there? Why had another man’s touch made her skin crawl earlier tonight, whereas Byron’s made her want to remove every stitch of clothing? She admitted she needed a good ol’ fashioned fuck fest—a “Lana-palooza” where she came so many times, she’d have trouble walking the next day. But it wouldn’t be open to the general public. Just the one man she’d hungered for since the first second she’d laid eyes on him.
There, that settles it. Just sleep with him and get it out of your system.
Her gut tightened. She hated it when her common sense agreed with her emotional side.
But what if once isn’t enough?
She shook her head. No, once would have to be enough. Anything more and she’d risk forming a relationship with him, however sick and twisted it might be.
With her walls up and a game plan in place, she entered the Venetian with a fixed smiled on her face.
Too bad the moment he took her hand, everything fell apart. The innocent gesture cracked her façade and set free a torrent of emotions inside her. They cascaded through her body from the point of contact with him, filling her with warm, panty-drenching lust. The lone song of a gondolier reverberated off the walls from the canal that wound its way through the casino. The pleading notes tugged at her heart, intensified her desire, and made her want to push him against the wall and finish what they’d started last night.
Her breath came out in ragged pants. Screw looking for vampires—they had less than half an hour to get back to their black holes before the sun came up anyway. Where were the elevators up to his room?
“Are you feeling okay, Lana?”
His question pulled her from her downward spiral of self-destruction. Her whole body burned. She blinked a few times to bring her surroundings back into focus. How should she answer him? Take your clothes off and fuck me now? “Um, why don’t we just head upstairs?”
“And finish our discussion in private?” The raw edge in his voice nearly sent her over the edge. Jesus Christ, he seemed just as turned on as she was. If they made it to his room fully clothed, she couldn’t decide if she’d be surprised or disappointed.
She got her answer as soon as the elevator doors closed. He took a step toward her and hesitated, as if he was worrying about being too aggressive. She’d barely inclined her head forward before he wrapped her up in his arms.
Their lips crushed together so fiercely, she could almost taste his desperation. Her mouth parted and his tongue swept in to ravage it. Each sensual flick heightened the throbbing tension between her legs. She pressed against the solid bulge in his jeans and frantically ground her hips, hoping to stimulate her already-sensitive clit.
The elevator dinged and they jumped apart like two teenagers caught making out in a car on the side of the road by the local sheriff.
His chest heaved up and down as if he’d just sprinted the hundred-meter dash at a world-record pace. “My room is just down the hall.”
“Good,” she managed to say between her own pants. The sooner they got to bed, the better.
He fumbled with the key card, his hand trembling as he inserted it into the slot. She inhaled through her teeth and tried not to tell him to hurry up. Dear God, what was wrong with her? She was acting crazier than that cougar from the other night.
The green light flashed, and they practically fell into the room. He kicked the door closed while his hands slid under the slinky material of her top. The warm calluses on his palms felt rough against her skin, complementing the almost savage way he kissed her.
Byron was a man’s man, not some sissy metrosexual. He knew what he wanted, worked hard to get it, and had no qualms about being forceful when he needed to be. And she loved every second of it.
But what if once isn’t enough?
