The Darkest Torment (Lords of the Underworld 12)

“No.” She grabbed his wrist, stopping him. “That’s mine. I won’t share.”

His gaze implored her. “Then do something with it. No walking away this time.”

She would do something, yes...but not just yet. If she did too much too fast, his agony might completely overshadow his pleasure.

“No walking away,” she agreed.

He gripped the edge of the table, his knuckles white as she slid her fingers down, down the ropes of his stomach. Her mouth followed. She dabbled at his navel, tracing her tongue around the edges before caressing and kissing his thigh, teasing him.

When he jerked his leg away from her, she paused, concerned. “Do you need a break?”

“No!” A bead of sweat trickled down his temple, catching in his hair. “Keep going. Please.”

Distract. “What did you think of me,” she said and licked his hip bone, “the day we met. I know I looked hideous. I remember your disgust.”

“The disgust wasn’t directed at you but me. I wanted you with a desire I didn’t yet understand. I never intended to take you with me, but I couldn’t leave you behind. I wasn’t strong enough.”

The admission did funny things to her insides. “I thought you were there to rescue me, and for once I didn’t care about being a damsel in distress. Now I know you did rescue me...and that you’re one of the best things to ever happen to me.”

Pride glinted in his copper eyes. Pride and pleasure. “I’ll protect you,” he said, the words heavy, as if weighted with a vow. “I’ll always protect you.”

“And I’ll protect you.”

But he wasn’t done. “You can rely on me, Rina. I’ll take care of you.”

As lovely as the sentiment was, she didn’t want to rely on him. It would create an imbalance in an already imbalanced relationship. When one person always gave and the other always took, the scales never evened out.

Now wasn’t the time to tackle such a serious issue, however. “How does your body feel?”

“Ready. I want you. I need you. Take me in your mouth or take me in your body. Just take me.”

Ecstasy...agony of her own...both unfurled deep, deep inside her. Perhaps she and Baden weren’t so imbalanced, after all. The powerful warrior was willing to beg for her. “Are you in pain?”

“Yes, but it’s different now. Better and worse at the same time.” He bolted to his feet. “I will have you,” he all but growled. He hooked his fingers on the lapels of her robe and gave a little push.

The material floated to the floor, leaving her naked. His gaze stroked over her from head to toe, both reverent and ablaze with lust, making her shiver, the intensity of his need feeding her own.

“Yes, you will have me.” She brushed her fingertips over his nipples, an urge to bite and scratch him—to leave no part of his body unmarked by her passion—assailing her. Astonishing her. She’d never before experienced such animalistic urges, but damn if she didn’t like them. “How do you want me?”

“In every way.” He gripped her by the waist, carried her to the bed and tossed her atop the mattress. As she bounced, he placed his knees on the edge and crawled toward her. “Spread your legs.”

She smiled at him, slow and seductive. “Are you saying it’s on till dawn, pekný?”

“I’m saying I’m finally taking what’s mine.”

20

“The only reason a woman should kick her man out of bed is to make love to him on the floor.”

—Amun, keeper of Secrets

BADEN ROSE TO his knees. Katarina was, without a doubt, the most erotic female in creation. With her naked body angled toward him, she leaned back on her elbows, thrusting up her breasts and drawing his attention to the dusky crests in the center.

Destruction purred his approval, issuing no demands. He wanted what Baden wanted. Perhaps even needed it.

Unable to resist her magnetic allure, he traced his gaze down the flat plane of her stomach to the tiny thatch of dark curls already wet with arousal. As commanded, she parted her mile-long legs and bent them at the knees, placing her feet outside his thighs, offering a full-frontal view of his new paradise.

“Do you like this? Want it?” The husky quality of her voice as she parroted his words back to him...she knew the power she wielded over him and reveled in it.

He couldn’t fault her. His shaft, already throbbing with want, wept at the tip. “Like is too mild a word.” He trembled. He ached. And he no longer cared about the pain of skin-to-skin contact. The pain of not having his hands on this woman had already proven far worse. He’d tossed and turned last night, a man haunted.