Oh, oh, oh. What was that? Had he detected a hint of nervousness in her voice?
The car jostled as it began to ascend. William maintained complete awareness of every occupant, lest anyone launch a sneak attack. Some immortals had the power to shape-shift into anyone or anything, including children.
On the third floor, the girls exited, waving goodbye. The doors closed, sealing William and Sunny inside. Alone. Her incredible scent saturated the air, making his head swim. All that sweetness melded with earthiness... His skin pulled tight, his blood a river of molten lava.
He turned and faced her, unable to stop himself. He needed...wanted... Damn it, he didn’t know!
Why the hell didn’t he know?
He gnashed his molars. She’d broken his brain, so she must be his lifemate. Yes? If so, she was his codebreaker, and the next victim to fall by his sword.
I shouldn’t bed a woman I plan to murder...right?
Nah. It’s fine. A moral compass wasn’t something William liked to carry; they got in the way. And he might be wrong about Sunny. She might not be the one he sought.
So why is a primal urge to protect her welling?
He had to remind himself of an important fact. I can protect her and endanger myself, or endanger her and protect myself.
I choose me. Always.
With ragged growls rumbling deep inside him, he told her, “If you’re wearing perfume, never stop.” Damn it! He’d meant to tell her to toss the bottle.
She turned toward him, her cheeks a lovely shade of rose. Passion-fever? The growls grew louder.
“I’m not wearing perfume,” she croaked.
Oh, yes. Passion-fever. The air around them thickened as they breathed harder, faster. Neither of them looked away.
He took a step closer.
She took a step closer, too.
With her next inhalation, her nipples rubbed against his shirt. Delicious friction. He fought to contain a groan, his shaft throbbing.
Do not lose focus with a potential threat.
Right. He would kiss her, distracting her enough to wipe her mind of fury and remove the bullets from her gun-ring, all while remaining detached. Then, he would question her. If he liked her answers, they could spend a few hours in bed. If not...
They could still spend a few hours in bed.
Excellent plan. No flaws.
Now he backed her against the wall. Her breath hitched, but she offered no protests. He pinned her arms overhead. Still no protests. Emboldened, he shoved a leg between hers, keeping them spread.
There was no stopping his next groan.
Flecks of green, blue and pink appeared in her eyes as she asked, “Am I about to experience elevator foreplay?”
“You are. It’s my specialty.” What was she, damn it? Holding her gaze, he ground his erection into her core...
“You’re very good at humblebrags.”
“No, I’m not. I’m great at them.”
To his delight, she whipped her hips forward, meeting him. Oh, shit! Pleasure seized him. He began to pant.
Inner shake. Concentrate! What had he planned to do? Oh, yes. As stealthily as possible, he removed the bullets from her gun-ring.
“The other girls must have really primed your pump,” she said, breathless.
“What other girls?” he asked with a wink.
The corners of her mouth twitched with genuine amusement. “Oh, you’re very, very good at this.”
“This?”
“Flirting.”
William dropped his gaze to her breasts, watching as her nipples pearled for him. A mistake. He couldn’t stop himself from grinding against her again. Again. “Soon, I’m going to lavish your little nipples with kisses. How they must ache.”
With a groan, she curled her fingers around his hand, the one binding her wrists. She dug her nails into his flesh, and he jolted with a realization. I’m getting to her, and I haven’t even kissed her yet.
Masculine pride threw kindling on the fires of his lust.
What the hell are you doing? Forgetting your purpose? He shook his head—a negation for her as well as himself. “You’re wrong, sundae.”
Eyes glazed, seemingly entranced, she breathed, “Wrong?”
“About me and flirting. I’m not good at it. I’m amazing.”
She peered at his lips. Stared, really. “I should warn you. I’m really bad in bed. Like, ice your blue balls for a week bad.”
An indulgent grin bloomed, the one that usually sent a woman’s pulse on an around-the-world trip. “There’s no such thing as bad in bed, sweetness. Not with me.”
The roses faded from her cheeks and the sparkles died in her eyes, her fury returning in a flash. “You’ve bedded enough women to know beyond a doubt?” she asked with a deceptively sweet tone. “How many have there been, then? Go ahead. Ballpark it.”
Honest to a fault, when he wanted to be, William said, “The number is incalculable.” He’d had more lovers than any immortal he knew. A fact that did not guilt or shame him. Nor did it make him proud. It was what it was, and he’d done what he’d done.
In the back of his mind, he’d been keeping track of the floors they passed. In a matter of seconds, they would reach sixteen. A few seconds
after that, seventeen. Need more time.
Without moving away from Sunny, he reached out to press sixteen, ensuring they would stop once before reaching their destination, buying him a minute or so.
The elevator stopped, and the doors opened. No one waited there.
He dipped his head, letting his lips hover over Sunny’s. “Shall I add one more to the tally?”
Awaiting her answer...breathing her in...already addicted to her scent?
A stronger shiver rocked her. “Yes,” she finally whispered.
He wasted no time, pressing his lips against hers once, twice, then for good, slipping his tongue into her mouth. Fuck! Sweeter than ambrosia. She tasted like power and tranquility, his two favorite things.
Addicted? Yes. No question now, and zero regrets. Want more. Need it.
Will have it. With a desperate moan, he deepened the kiss.
No, no, no. There would be no deepening. Not with her, not yet. Must remain detached until I know who and what I’m dealing with.
Here and now I’ll give a little to get a lot.
But...she hadn’t lied or exaggerated. She was a bad kisser. The worst. She sucked his tongue too hard, banged her teeth against his and bit tender spots, drawing blood.
Somewhat shell-shocked, he lifted his head to peer down at her. He expected to see a return of the sensual flush. Or a smile to indicate she’d played a joke on him. He saw nothing. No hint of emotion. Not even her previous rage.
Am I losing my touch?
“Why’d you stop?” she asked, not out of breath. “You’re as bad at this as I am, so we’re kind of perfect for each other.”
He...what? “I am not bad at this, and I’ll prove it,” he bellowed. Back down he went.
William kissed her with every bit of skill he’d acquired in his multimillennia-long life of he-whoring, feeding her passion straight from the tap. Again, she kissed him back, but she remained stiff and wooden, as if distracted.
Even still, he felt... No, impossible. But maybe? Lightning flashed in his veins, something he’d only ever experienced when enraged. Here, now, his temper remained at bay. So, what had caused it? Sunny? Because she was his lifemate?