“But I still want this.”
Those sensuous lips of his curled in a wily grin. He rose tall on his knees. “Show me. Put your hands above your head and grip the pillow.”
Her heart tripped and her insides spun, but she did as he asked, her throat too dry to swallow.
Roughened fingers brushed the outside of her knees. “Say it again.” His silver eyes burned into hers, his voice spilling across her in a wicked rush of heat.
“I want this.” The admission wracked her, her voice husky and breathless.
For the first time since she’d balked, his gaze drifted down her body and a slow growl rumbled from his chest.
So exposed and vulnerable. She’d never needed touch this badly. Never craved this kind of carnal intimacy.
He splayed his palm against her belly and the muscles beneath clenched tight. “Send your energy through my hand.” The ferocity of his voice ricocheted through her. “Focus on where I touch.”
The fine hairs along her skin danced to attention, and something a step stronger than the brush of a feather leapt from her flesh to his.
He leaned forward and his breath fanned out around her breast on a low, throaty sigh. “Do you know how long I craved this?” He swirled his tongue around the turgid nipple and imitated the stroke with his finger at the other. The tips of his hair tickled at her side and his spicy scent filled her lungs. “How many nights I ached to feel your skin under my tongue?”
She urged his mouth closer to her breast, his hair fisted in her nearly barbaric grip, but he refused to budge, keeping the touch light. “Damn it. I ache.”
The bastard chuckled. Actually, chuckled. “Yeah, now you get it.” His tongue painted a naughty path along her flesh, down one tight globe and up the other. He circled the other pebbled tip and looked up beneath thick black lashes. “I’ll give you what you need, when you need it.” He flicked his tongue against the peak. “Always.”
Wet, delicious heat enfolded her nipple. Sent spasms straight to her belly and her mind to the moon. Passion weighted her eyelids, but she kept them open. Couldn’t forgo the vision at her breast—his cheeks hollowing with each pull, eyes shut as though he savored every second.
Logic and common sense ceased to exist, buried so far down it couldn’t find the light of day, much less interrupt.
She tried to form words—demands or curses. Anything to shove him past his leisurely feast and on to filling the achy void between her legs. But all that came out were husky sighs and scratchy pleas.
Hot muscle flexed beneath her hands. The pads of his chest, the ridges across his stomach, the V at his hips. With every touch, energy flowed between them, a mix of sparks and soft-spun cotton. She shoved at the offensive silk at his waist, but couldn’t reach enough to push the fabric past his hips. “Please.” She scraped her teeth along the taught line of his shoulder, salt and an almost metallic taste on her lips. “Let me feel you.”
Her nipple slipped from between his lips. He studied the rosy tip, a salacious gleam in his eyes as he looked up. The hand teasing her thighs slid higher and he licked the other neglected tip. “Like this?” Two fingers slicked through her wet folds—once, twice—then thrust deep as his mouth clamped down.
“Yes!” No. God, it wasn’t what she’d meant, but the stretch was perfect. A hint of what she craved, a spark for what promised to be explosive. She didn’t know whether to tug him away and demand he comply or press his mouth harder against her breast. “I want you inside me.”
He lifted his head with one last lap at her nipple. “Not yet.” He shifted back and pushed her knees wide, his stare so hot between her legs she thought she’d burn. “Not until I get a taste.” His touch drifted over her bare mound and he licked his lips. He lifted her hips and his breath fluttered against her thighs. “So sweet. Perfect for my mouth.”
A low, guttural moan grated from her throat, the porn-star kind she’d blush about when she remembered it later. Each decadent swipe of his tongue, the steady rhythm of his face between her legs, the brush of his hair against her thighs—she couldn’t fight it. Didn’t want to. Just gave herself over to the pleasure and laid her soul bare.
His hand flattened against her belly, stilling her hips. “Give me what I want.” He growled the demand against her slick flesh and it resonated up her torso. His fingers rocked, back and forth, demanding. “Give me a taste.” The scorching heat of his mouth bathed her clit and he suckled deep.
Climax whipped through her, swift as the shout that ripped from her lungs. Her pussy rippled around him, hips meeting each glide of his fingers. She urged him closer and widened her knees, the wicked pressure of his lips more important than air. Shame had no place here. Only touch. Emotion. Passion.
Eryx eased back.
She took her first full breath—then promptly lost it on a huff when he lifted his head.
His eyelids were heavy, dark hair accenting the harsh angles of his face, and lips glossy with her release. His fingers still thrust inside her, slow and steady, a pace that eased her from the peak but refused to let her land. “That’s honesty.” He slipped his fingers from her entrance and cleaned them with a naughty swipe of his tongue and lips. “Sweet, honey-coated honesty.”
A none-too-subtle ripple shuttled through her belly and another chunk in her emotional blockade tumbled into nothingness. How could she keep him out? Did she even want to anymore?
He rose over her. Sweat glistened on smooth muscles as he shoved the black silk past his hips. His cock bobbed, thick and ready against his abdomen, the base smooth and bare. “Still your call.” No threat, no judgment of any kind. Just a fierce strength in the line of his jaw. One that said he’d step away if she said no—even if it killed him.
“I want more.” She flung the words out before she could overthink them. Maybe she’d regret it later, but she’d face her worst fears five times over if it meant having this moment to remember. Like once will ever be enough. She rolled her hips, the release of moments before eradicated by the sight of him stroking his shaft. Oh, no. A lifetime wouldn’t be enough.
One hand propped beside her head, he rubbed the head of his cock through her slick heat. Slow. Teasing. His sexy, indrawn breath sounded above her. “You belong with me.”
The claim brushed through her, tempting her to hope. She clenched her eyes shut. Didn’t dare meet his gaze for fear she might actually believe it.
He gripped her hip, the tip of his staff poised and ready. “Look at me.”
Oh, God. This would kill her. Leave her powerless.
His cock teased her entrance. In and out. Enough to entice, not nearly enough to ease the ache. “Lexi.”
His gaze rattled her soul. “You belong with me. Tell me you understand.”
There was no way to move. No way to force the fullness she craved, and no protection for her heart. “Yes.” A raged cry. Desperate. “Please.”
He filled her in one, hard press, stretching her still fluttering walls to the point of delicious pain. One perfect, primitive moment that reached beyond their joined flesh to coil around her heart. The head of his erection scraped against her tender flesh, back and forth in powerful surges. She was lost, deliciously unplugged from everything in the world but the man driving at her hips.
Need pounded from every quarter, an all-consuming demand for something beyond the promise of physical release. “Eryx.” She anchored her hand at his chest. His heart hammered beneath it. Her energy leapt to surround it, the move as instinctive as a toddler’s need to walk, driving for a connection to ground her before she shattered into a million tiny pieces.
He shuddered and his eyes clenched tight, hands fisted against the mattress.
“Please.” She was so close. Desperate for an illusive touch she couldn’t identify, her nails scored the skin above his heart.
He met her gaze. He knew what she needed, the tortured slant of
his eyes damning him even as his hips rammed in a wicked rhythm. He slid his hand between their bodies and circled her clit. Slick, perfect pressure. “Let go.”
Her pussy clamped around his iron length and he slammed deep, catapulting her beyond suspicions and secrets into a bright abyss.
He reared back on a jagged bellow. Violet shards of electricity shot toward the ceiling and a crash of thunder racked the skies outside as his cock jerked inside her.
She rode the storm, arms and legs locked tight around him. Wind snapped and soothed their sweat-slick skin as she reveled in his weight. The slow, steady glide of his hips and each delicious aftershock.
The tightly coiled muscles in his shoulders eased and eager arms wrapped her tight.
A ragged breath shook from her lungs, her body thrumming on a steady hum. The pain from her awakening was gone, replaced with the pleasant ache in muscles too long ignored. For the first time in her life, her heart vibrated with connection. As though the grooves of her life had settled into their perfect notch.
Almost.
Eryx’s guilty expression—the point just before he’d shoved her over the ledge with his clever fingers—replayed in her mind.
Whatever he’d withheld wasn’t about deceit. Of that much, she was certain. But he was hiding something. Something she had every intention of finding.
Chapter 12
Maxis ducked inside Phybe’s sheltered porch and checked the street behind him. Quiet, not a soul out in the early afternoon, the quaint warriorville cottages locked tight. Most families made their rounds to sanctuary and family dinners this time of day. The tradition was a bit too close to human ritual to suit his taste, but in this instance it came in handy.
Unlike the others, Phybe was home, a confirmation he’d made before setting out. No point in roasting his retinas with a wasted trip. He rapped on the evergreen-colored door and waited.
The door opened with a high-pitched groan, the entry shadowed and empty.
“Come in.” Phybe’s voice echoed from somewhere deep within the home. Whatever she was doing, her words held a bite he’d have never associated with her mousy demeanor.
The foyer was little more than a short hallway opening to a vaulted living room. Ivory chaises and fluffy sage chairs sat in casual arrangements. Matching rugs in conservative patterns covered a pale slate floor. Beyond it was a sliding glass door spanning the far wall, the entire length open wide to let in the blasted sun.
“Wesley.” Phybe kneeled on the patio beyond the doors, clumps of near-black dirt scattered atop the sandstone pavers. She staggered to a stand and swiped the back of one soil-crusted hand across her forehead. “I wasn’t expecting you. I look horrid.”
Maxis strolled toward the mess of pots and overturned blooms. “You have a love of plants?”
“Praise The Great One, no.” She motioned to a nearby chair beneath an awning, its weathered cushions indicative of too many hours in the sun. She resumed her place in front of her most recent horticultural victim. “The malran’s sister is helping me keep my mind off things. She thinks blending my soul with Mother Earth will help heal my heart.”
“I’ve heard it said she’s a renowned healer. Perhaps she’s right.” Maxis noted the particular bloom teetering cockeyed in the center of the ruby colored pot. “Your choice of flower warms my heart.”
A flush rushed her cheeks and she ducked her head. “I can’t take too much credit. Galena brought them to me. I took the flower you gave me to my presentation to the malran. I told her a friend had given it to me and it gave me strength.”
Maxis’ gut cramped, the absent tapping of his finger along the armrest freezing midair.
Phybe gripped the edge of the clay pot so hard the petals shook. Her eyes were hidden behind a veil of pale lashes. “When she came by yesterday, she said she thought your gesture was lovely and wanted to enforce the sentiment.”
“You told her about me?” He tried for a lighthearted tone. Difficult when sparks threatened to leap from his palm.
She ducked her head and scooped a pile of rich dirt. “Very little. Only that I’d made a new friend and you’d seen me safely home.”
Maxis sucked in a lungful of air and let it out, a good part of his temper sliding out along with it. “I take it the presentation went well?”
“As well as can be expected.” With a wistful smile, she shoved the pot away and dropped her hands to her lap. The dreary tan color of her leggings was perfect for her work, but a drab blend for her already pale skin. “The malran was very kind. Assuring.”
“So Galena was in attendance. Anyone else?” More direct than he’d intended, but the constant drift of the sun as it inched past the awning pricked at his attention.
She shook her head and swept piles of dirt toward the burlap bag at her right. “No. It was just the two of them.” Her sardonic chuckle tinkled through the air. “At least until Serena showed.”
“Serena?”
Phybe huffed out a tired breath and stood. “The malran’s former lover. I knew nothing of her, but a few of the wives told me about her once I got home.” She scooted the bag of dirt to the far edge of the patio wall with a flick of her wrist to guide her mental push. “They say she and the malran were an item many years ago. Apparently, he lost interest quickly, but she never did. Galena said the scene after I left was quite nasty.”
“Intriguing.” Maxis crossed one leg over the other. “Such gossip among the royals. Too bad he didn’t have a current love to throw into the mix. Would have made for good entertainment.”
Phybe situated herself in the chair beside his, and the sun angled off her pale hair in a blinding ray. “No. No, current loves. At least not that I saw. Which was fine with me. Serena brings enough drama on her own.”
Damn it all. The woman needed to stay on point. He held out his hand. “And how are you?”
She placed her hand in his with a gentle sigh. “Tired. Every time I close my eyes, I see Saul’s face. I wonder if he felt pain at his passing. How my future will be without him.”
He barely registered her words, focusing instead of the full stream of memories from her time at the castle.
“Wesley?”
The question tapped at his attention. “Forgive me.” He shook his head, feigning sadness to cover his intrigue. “Your comments brought to mind losses of my own. What did you say?”
“I asked if I could get you something to drink?”
Impatience whipped and tugged at his muscles. “No. I was merely out on errands and thought to check in as I’d promised. I think it’s best I be on my way. One can never be too cautious with gossip. Particularly in your situation.” He stood, eager to escape to the only slightly dimmer living area. “Of course, you’re always welcome to come see me. It’s more private there. Secluded.”
Phybe avoided his gaze and didn’t answer, hands clasped tightly in front of her.
“Well, then.” Wasn’t this awkward? “I’ll leave you to your planting. I’ll check on you again soon to see how you’re doing.”
She trailed behind him on his way to the door, but he didn’t look back. No sign of Lexi and too close of a call with the malran learning of his involvement. Neither played into his plans. Then again, the trip hadn’t been all bad.
Serena Doroz—long, white-blonde hair, vivid blue eyes, and loads of attitude—trouncing through Phybe’s memories.
That was a woman he could work with.
* * * *
By the time they pried themselves from Eryx’s bed, the red-rimmed Eden sun was well past noon. Lexi and Eryx trudged up a soft-sloping hill covered in Eden’s shimmering green grass. Clouds capped the azure horizon. Lexi’s body buzzed, ready to kick ass and take on the world—including Eryx and whatever had his brow wrinkled to match a shar-pei.
“So, what secret have you got tucked away this time?” Her sarcasm came off a li
ttle thick, teetering on self-righteous snark.
He shook his head.
“Oh, come on. No man I’ve ever known has thunderbolt sex and walks away grumpy.”
He grabbed her arm and ground them both to a halt. “You’ve never known a man to throw the kind of bolts I do, and the thought of you post-orgasm with anyone but me doesn’t improve my mood.”
Whoa. Okay. Maybe more finesse. “You know how I feel about secrets. I know you’re keeping one. Or several. You ever thought about talking to me instead of tiptoeing around every issue in sight?”
He planted his hands on either hip and worked his jaw in slow circles.
“Let’s try this,” she said. “How many more whammies am I due for?”
He hung his head and rubbed the back of his neck. He’d plaited his hair in a mass of braids, the ends capped off in all manner of metal beads. In lieu of the jeans and T-shirts she’d grown to love, he sported a charcoal gray linen tank and pants. A spiritual rendition of Braveheart on steroids.
“Two.” He looked up from his vacant perusal of the grass. “They’re mine to wrestle. I’ll share them when I’m ready.”
She opened her mouth.
“We’ve already established you have secrets of your own,” he said. “The fact that Ludan knows every dark nook and cranny of your mind including those secrets makes me mental. The fact that they’re significant enough to make you freeze when you’re naked beneath me drives me to near murder.”
Put that way, she couldn’t help but mentally downshift and reevaluate. She took a deep breath and raised her chin. “You’re right.” The words tasted like shit. “Just promise me there aren’t any others to rip the rug out from under me.”
“I can’t do that.” His lips flat-lined. “Who I am in this realm affects you, but it’s still about me. I’m asking you for patience. To get to know me before I heap on everything else.”
A cool breeze tickled the side of her face. She lowered her eyelids and fixated on the sun’s warmth, the crisp bite of grass as it hit her nose. “Does it have anything to do with this morning?” She locked onto his gaze. “There was something…” What words could she use? The words she had to work with wouldn’t come together in the right formation. “Something missing.”
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