Pleased to have gotten that in, he continues walking up the steps. His grin widens further when she snorts but keeps pace with him nevertheless.
Having led them to a small bedroom, the caretaker leaves, only to return with towels and clothes. He drops them on the bed, then leaves, shutting the door behind them.
Jai unhooks the scabbard, then drops his sword on the lone small table near the balcony door. Relieving himself of its weight should have made him feel better but the various aches and pains on his body say otherwise.
Picking up a towel, he limps towards the clawed bathtub. When he leans down to open the taps, the world whirls around him again. Swearing a little, he shuts his eyes and sits down next to the tub, steadying himself.
"Here, let me help."
Aria walks past him and flips open the taps. The sound of running water fills the little space and he sees steam rising from the tub.
An image of her in the bath with him flashes across his mind. He swears again. They’ve just survived a near death experience, and despite being hurt and aching from the beating his body has taken, he is aroused.
Best to keep moving, keep his hands occupied and his mind off the woman who’s reaching to help him take off his shirt.
Standing up and taking a step back so he’s out of her reach, he shucks off his still wet shoes and grimy socks.
Reaching for the hem of his T-shirt, a groan escapes him when his aching ribs protest. Sweat breaks out over his forehead with the effort and he tries once more to pull it up, when suddenly she is there helping him.
"Raise your hands," she says. Standing on tiptoe, she rolls the T-shirt up and off him, tossing it with his other clothes.
A gasp from her makes him look down at himself. He winces at the mess of cuts and bruises as fresh blood begins oozing from his forehead wound.
"Sit." She pushes him none too gently back down on to the rim of the bathtub.
She’s back with a dishcloth and a bottle of antiseptic – from the caretaker again, he guesses.
‘This is going to hurt," she says.
And without waiting for his response, she cleans up the dirt quickly, then smooths the antiseptic over the wound in his forehead. He hisses in pain, one arm tightening around her waist.
He curses, aloud. "Finish it," he says, his voice tight.
And she rushes to clean the other wounds on his chest, on his side.
Seeing the gaping ends of the wound on his forehead she says, "This needs to be stitched," she says, her voice serious.
"Do it," he says and she looks at him, questioning.
"Me?" she asks in an incredulous voice.
"See anyone else here?" He half-chuckles.
"And what do I use to stitch it up?"
He looks at the bathroom closet and she exclaims, "Seriously? Floss? You want me to use dental floss to sew up your wound?"
"Do you have a better idea, darling?" he asks, his voice casual. A hint of a smile on his lips.
She reddens at that, turns to leave.
"Ask the hotel guy for a needle, will you?" He says voice still gentle.
"And painkillers," he calls after her, swearing as another burst of pain flares across his forehead.
Back again with the needle, she thrusts some pills and a bottle at him.
"Cheap rum?" He makes a face. "Didn’t he have any whiskey?"
At her glare, he swallows down a chuckle, and gulps down the pills with what passed for rum in these parts. Only to wince as she sews the wound.
Biting down on the pain he focuses instead on the curve of her breasts level with his eyes. But that only brings pain of a different kind, this time in his belly.
Grimacing, he asks, more to distract himself than anything, "Why do you think he let me go?"
"Who?" she asks, her voice breathless as if she’s aware exactly of what he’s thinking and trying to focus on the task at hand.
‘The shifter," he says. "The one who took my sword. He could have killed me. Instead he only hurt me. As if they want to keep me alive."
"Well, they wanted me alive too." It’s her turn to grimace. "If they’d taken me…I would have killed myself," she says, her voice toneless.
His grip tightens. "I’ll never let them get to you, Aria," he says.
When she doesn’t reply, he pulls back, not caring when the needle slips and scratches him.
"Hey!" she exclaims. "Stay still or I’ll just hurt you more."
He barely hears her. "All I care about is you, you know that, right?"
This time she meets his eyes. In her's he sees the remnants of doubt and curses himself.
She still hasn’t forgotten. She may have forgiven him for what he did, for letting her go, but a part of her still remembers. And he knows he’ll do anything, anything, even give his own life to wipe that hurt from her eyes.
Silence between them, then Aria snips off the floss and stands back to survey her handiwork. Jai’s hands are still on her waist, she’s standing between his thighs.
The painkillers have finally kicked in and to Jai’s relief, a pleasant numbness steals across his limbs. He feels lightheaded, relaxed enough to rub his palms on the sodden T-shirt she still wears. Relaxed enough to slip his hand under her T-shirt and slide his fingers over her skin. Against the roughness of his palms, she feels soft. Very soft. Warmth seeps into him and he pulls her closer; she gasps and grips his shoulders for support.
She runs her fingers through his hair. When she grips some of the short tufts and jerks his face up, he pulls her even closer. Close enough for her to feel the hardness between his thighs.
Sliding his hands up her back, he yanks her down to him and closes his mouth over hers.
He’s been waiting to do this since he saw her in London in that meeting room. When she’d walked in and seen him, and her face had worn that look of surprise. He'd caught her flash of naked need, gone quickly. Right then, he’d wanted to grab her and take her out of there.
He’d wanted to grip her waist as he’s doing now. Feel her shudder as he thrusts his tongue into her mouth. Her gasp of pleasure turns him on even more.
He wants her. Now.
He knows she wants him too.
And they’re here alone.
Here, in Goa. In the city of his mother's birth. Probably not far from his mother’s ancestral home. And just thinking that sends a chill down his back. It’s as if just by thinking of Ruby, she’s here in the room with them, holding him to the promise he’d made.
His gut twists with the truth he can’t ignore anymore. He needs to find the sword. Fast.
He wants Aria too, just not here. Not like this.
She moves against him, brushing against his arousal. A growl of pleasure rumbles up his chest. Breath coming in short bursts, she reaches for the button of his jeans, but he grabs her hand.
"Don’t," he says, in a strangled voice. But his actions contradict his words. He doesn’t let go. And she makes no attempt to remove her hand either.
Her eyes meet his and hold. Those blue-gray eyes of hers grow stormy, turning almost violet.
Then his heart slams against his chest. She’s slid her hand lower, over his arousal. Her cheeks redden but that doesn’t stop her from gripping him.
A shudder runs through him. He still doesn’t move, doesn’t push her away. Instead, his palm slides down her arm and over her hand splayed over his hardness, squeezing it.
She winces and he realizes it’s her damaged arm, but before he can say anything, she melts into him.
Her breasts touch his chest and he forgets everything else. Everything except the smell of her arousal. Everything except the feel of her hand as it kneads him, as he feels her grip him. He hardens even more, thrusts against her palm.
She presses her lips to his throat and he groans aloud.
He squeezes the palm that still cups him and she winces again. He knows he’s hurting her. Just like she’s hurting him, yet he can’t stop.
But he must.
"
Not now, not like this," he says. His voice hoarse, the words torn out of him.
Her eyes dilate further and silver flashes among the indigo. She massages him in earnest, sending another rush of desire sparking along his nerve endings. This time he closes the gap between them so her hand is trapped, stilling her movement.
Raising his head, he captures her lips with his again.
40
I am drowning in him. Sweat breaks out on my forehead, and when his tongue thrusts between my lips a sharp coil of heat tugs at the base of my belly. My breath quickens and I feel my pulse beat fast against the base of my throat. Against my hand I feel his arousal thicken and I want to crawl into him. And wear his skin. Till I don’t know where I stop and where he begins.
He makes a sound deep in his throat, a very male sound of want, of possession, which rumbles over my skin. It goes straight to my core. A sharp tug inside and then I’m pressing myself to him, thrusting against him.
He goes still at that and I know he’s still making up his mind; he may still pull back.
But I want him now.
Now.
Now when we’re both alive, when the past has been left behind, when I can’t think of what the future holds, all I want is to feel his skin on mine, his breath on my cheek, the scrape of his beard against the skin of my wrist.
Feel the length of his longing inside me. The ache in my belly sparks, grows. It’s eating me up. Eating me up with my desire for him. The moisture pools between my legs, and with a sharp tug I pull out my hands from between us. Throwing them around his neck I squeeze his muscles.
He shudders.
A gasp of pain from him, swallowed quickly, blooming inside me and I pull away.
"I hurt you." My voice comes out all hoarse.
I try to move, manage to untangle myself from him, and almost fall, except his hand snakes out around my waist.
He pulls me to him.
"You’ll never hurt me," he says. "Just, not like this," he says again.
And yet below my cheek his heart thunders, galloping, rushing towards a goal only he can see. One which I want too. And his arousal still strains against my waist.
"Why?" I ask. "Why stop now?" My voice comes out soft, breathy, pleading.
He shudders, presses a kiss to my forehead. Placing a finger under my chin, he raises my face to his, "I want you, Aria. I’ve wanted you from the first time I saw you, when you killed that shifter. You turned me on so bad right then. You had me wanting to take you and walk away with you, take you away from everything and hold on to you."
"Why didn’t you?" This just bursts out. The question that’s been bothering me since the day he asked me to return to the Jungle.
He meets my eyes squarely this time, "A promise to a dying woman."
"Your mother," I say and he nods. "And now? What’s changed now?" I ask.
"I have," he says simply. "You changed me."
Leaning his forehead against mine, he says, "I want to make love to you, in my bed, in my home."
Home. So important to him. A place I don’t know anymore. Because…home is where I am now, with him. Now is all I have.
And yet his voice carries a ring of conviction which tells me he’s made up his mind. I know I can’t sway him.
Doesn’t mean I can’t tease him.
I nod. I take a step back, then another. I move away till I’m sure he can see all of me. Toeing off my soggy sneakers and my socks, I reach for my sea salt-crusted shirt and take it off in one go.
"What are you doing?" he growls, inhaling a sharp breath, and those amber eyes spark and glow.
He’s breathing fast, his chest rising and falling. But the rest of him is still. Predator still. He’s waiting, waiting for me to take the next step. And take the next step I do.
"So you were saying you wanted to wait…Jaidon." I deliberately make my voice light, drawing his name out over my tongue.
His eyes narrow, sparking flickers of gold at my teasing tone. His jaw hardens and then as if he can’t stop himself, he looks down to where I’m unzipping my jeans. Bending my knees I slide them off, throw them aside. His eyes catch fire and he curls his hands into fists.
"You’re pushing me, Ariana, I’m warning you." His voice is rough, gravelly, it flickers over my skin, darting off little sparks of tension in their wake. Hearing my full name stretched out over his tongue, feeling the violence below that word, sends a shiver down my spine.
I want it. Want to feel that savagery that lurks underneath his skin. That part of him that he’s always kept tightly under control, leashed to himself. I want to feel it, feel it pounce on me, feel it in me.
I want.
I want him to take me in the most basic way possible. I flush at the boldness of my own thoughts. My belly tightens, coils, and I’m wet again.
Reaching behind me with trembling hands, I unhook my bra, letting it slide off my hands. That drops too.
A plume of desire rises from him, slamming into me, and I can smell him. That cinnamon and pine smell of his, mixed with the scent of sea water. I smell his arousal. I reach for my panties and then he’s there.
In one swoop, he lifts me up. My legs lock around his waist and he winces.
Too late, I realize he’s wounded and that I’ve hurt him. Then he pushes into me and all thought of apologizing promptly goes out of my head. That part of me which is melting inside latches onto him. On to his hardness. I wind my arms around his neck, run my fingers through his hair and bend my chest, bend back. Opening up, opening to him.
He swears against my cheek.
Turning around, he drops me into the tub with enough force for the water to splash out over the sides.
"Hey!" I gasp, taking in a mouthful of the steaming water and going under. By the time I resurface he’s gone.
It’s my turn to swear aloud.
Reaching around I shut off the tap and in the silence that follows, hear him swear in the next room.
I smile a little at that, a smile without humor. He deserves that too and I hope it hurts him as much as I’m hurting now.
41
Jai comes awake with a start, his heart thundering in his chest. Every part of him aches. The adrenaline which had carried him this far had crashed right after the shower and by the time he’d crawled into bed, Aria had already been asleep, slumped in one corner of the large bed.
He’s not sure what has woken him.
Maybe it’s the memories which seem to filter through this ancient building. Memories that are not his own, the air so thick with them that it weighs down on him. The steel band around his chest tightens. He takes in a deep breath, and another. But it doesn’t help.
The sense of something not being right grows. He lifts his head, listens. It’s quiet outside. Even the waves seem to have stilled. The hair on his nape prickles and he looks around for the sword but of course it’s not there. That disturbs him further. Best to get out of here at dawn and set off for Bombay. Sweat trickles down his forehead.
The fresh shirt he had worn is drenched with sweat.
Sometime during the night, Aria has shifted. She now lies diagonally across the bed, her head on his shoulder. One hand flung around his chest, one leg entwined with his. Her chest barely moves as she breathes. He reaches out to brush aside a strand of hair from where it’s fallen over her cheek.
In sleep she looks innocent, young. That crackle of energy that she carries when awake is silent. The effects of yesterday’s ordeal are still visible in the dark circle under her eyes. A wave of tenderness sweeps over him and he laces his fingers through hers. He’s gripped by a fierce need to protect, the kind he’s experienced only once before.
With his kidnapped sister.
After Ruby’s death, his father had searched for Maya for many years. Perhaps a part of him still hopes she will come home.
Jai, on the other hand, doesn’t think about his sister as much. She had been five when she’d been kidnapped, an event so linked with his mother’s death as t
o be overshadowed by it. Or perhaps it’s because he feels he should have done more to protect her, to find her.
His fingers tighten on Aria’s, and she comes awake, her eyes suddenly open.
"Jaidon?" Her voice is husky, overshadowed with sleep. Her cheek rubs against his chest as she moves, her hair shivers down his muscles, sending pin-pricks of awareness straight to his groin. He’s already erect and throbbing.
Her eyes latch on to his, unmoving.
He loosens his grip but doesn’t let go. Then bending down, he bites her on the shoulder. She winces again, a shudder running through her body.
"What are you doing?" she asks, her voice alert, a thread of awareness running through it.
He doesn’t reply.
Despite the danger he can sense in the air, he can’t stop looking at her. The taste of her skin fills his mouth. And she’s soft, so soft, his tongue flicks out and licks the skin he’s bitten. He blows on it and she shivers and goes still. Her eyes widen, the blue in them deepening, swirling, till it feels like the stormy seas they’ve left behind.
Her tongue flicks out and touches her dry lips. An answering tug of desire has him bending down to capture her mouth when a yell from below cuts through them. And just like that, he’s fully alert.
His body stiffens, his ears straining to follow what’s happening outside. Another yell, cut off abruptly, as if whoever it came from has been silenced.
A trickle of sweat runs down his back and when Aria stirs, he puts a finger to her lips, shushing her. Her eyes widen and he jerks his head towards the door.
At her nod, he pushes himself up on his forearms, his biceps bulging on either side of her head. He’s about to go when he changes his mind and moves in for a hard kiss. Her lips cling to his for just another second.
Then, tearing himself away, he dives towards the table and has his sword in his hand before the door is flung open. In strides a familiar face.
"Get out of here, Jai, they are right behind me. The newcomer’s eyes flit from Jai to Aria then back to Jai.
Taken (Many Lives Book 2) Page 17
