Instead, Vishous turned to her and smiled. “Listen to you.”
“I’d rather you talked to me.”
The sexual light that she was so familiar with, but hadn’t seen in a week, boiled up in his eyes as he rolled over toward her. Then his lids lowered and he looked at her breasts underneath the simple Hanes T-shirt she’d fallen asleep in.
She put her face in the way, but she was smiling, too. Things had been so stiff and strained between them. This felt normal. “I’m not going to be distracted.”
As heat poured out of his big body in waves, her mate took his fingertip and trailed it along her shoulder. And then he opened his mouth, the white tips of his fangs making an appearance and getting even longer as he licked his lips.
Somehow, the sheet that was covering him got tugged down his ribbed abdomen. Lower. Lower still. It was his gloved hand doing the duty, and with every inch exposed, her eyes had more trouble going anywhere else. He stopped right before his massive erection was revealed, but he gave her a show: The tattoos around his groin stretched and righted themselves as his hips curled and relaxed, curled and relaxed.
“Vishous . . .”
“What.”
His gloved hand dipped under the black satin, and she didn’t have to see where it went to be well aware he’d gripped himself: The fact that he arched back told her everything she needed to know. That and the way he bit down on his lower lip.
“Jane . . .”
“What.”
“Are you just going to watch, true?”
God, she remembered the first time she’d seen him like this, all laid out on a bed, erect, ready. She’d been giving him a sponge bath, and he’d read her like a book: As much as she hadn’t wanted to admit it, she’d been desperate to watch him get off.
And she’d made sure he had.
Feeling heated herself, she leaned over to him, dropping her mouth so that it almost touched his. “You’re still deflecting—”
In a flash, his free hand snapped up and clasped the back of her neck, trapping her. And didn’t that power in him go straight down between her thighs.
“Yes. I am.” His tongue came out and flicked across her lip. “But we can always talk after we’re through. You know I never lie.”
“I thought the line was more like . . . you’re never wrong.”
“Well, that’s true, too.” A pumping growl came out of him. “And right now . . . you and I need this.”
That last part was said with none of the passion and all of the seriousness she needed to hear. And what do you know, he was right. The pair of them had been circling for the last seven days, stepping carefully, avoiding the land mine in the center of their relationship. Connecting like this, skin-to-skin, was going to help them get through to the words that had to be spoken.
“So what do you say?” he murmured.
“What are you waiting for?”
The laugh he let out was low and satisfied, and his forearm tightened and released as he started to stroke himself. “Pull the sheet back, Jane.”
The command was husky, but clear, and it got to her. As it always did.
“Do it, Jane. Watch me.”
She put her hand on his pec and drifted it downward, feeling the ribs of his chest and the hard ridges of his abdominals, hearing the hiss as he drew a sharp breath in through his teeth. Lifting the sheet, she had to swallow hard as the head of him breached the top of his fist, breaking free and offering itself with a single, crystal tear.
When she reached out for him, he snapped a hold on her wrist and held her back.
“Look at me, Jane . . .” came the groan. “But don’t touch.”
Son of a bitch. She hated when he did this. Loved it, too.
Vishous didn’t let go of his hold on her as he worked his erection with his gloved hand, his body so beautiful as it found a rhythm with the pump of his palm. Candlelight turned the whole episode into something mysterious, but then . . . it was always like that with V. With him, she never knew what to expect, and not just because he was the son of a deity. He was sex on the edge all the time, hard-cornered and crafty, twisted and demanding.