Hydromancist (Seven Forbidden Arts 4)

“Are you going to give me what I need?” she finally whispered.

His lips curved into a smile. Letting go of her hair, he curled his fingers around the back of her neck. “In due time.”

“Due time?”

“When you realize what you really want.”

“What is that?”

His smile was amused. “More than a shag.”

Son of a bitch. Cesar had run to Tim like a first grade tattletale and told him what she’d said.

“You think you’ve got me all figured out, don’t you?” she asked.

“I do. What you really want is to be loved, not just fucked, no matter how hard you work at keeping it meaningless sex.”

His voice was soft as he said it and his touch gentle as he brushed his thumb along the line of her jaw. For a moment, she imagined what it could be like to be loved by a man like Tim, a man who wouldn’t settle for anything less than everything, who’d claim a woman and make her his and give her everything in return. With Tim, that was how it would be. If there was one thing she knew, it was the male species. Tim was an all-or-nothing type of guy. She blinked. She didn’t want to—couldn’t—see Tim like that. Ever. He was the enemy.

Darren’s voice was back in her head.

Don’t let them in. Don’t let them get close, Maya.

She took a step back, putting as much distance as she could between them while his hand was still wrapped around her nape. “You don’t know anything about me.”

He released her. “I wouldn’t come at you so hard if you didn’t keep challenging me.”

She moved until she felt the bed against her legs. “What are you talking about?”

“You need time to get used to the idea, so just let me give you time. Stop challenging my control, because if I lose it, there’ll be no turning back.”

She flopped down on the bed. “Get used to what?”

Instead of an answer, she only got the patient smile she was fast growing used to. “Give me a couple of minutes to get dressed.” Without waiting for a response, Tim dropped the towel and walked to the dressing room.

Holy shit.

At least she had the self-control not to gape. She’d seen her share of men, but Tim was in a different category altogether. He was mouthwatering perfect, every inch of him. His lean body was chiseled, not an ounce of fat between his silken skin and muscle. She stared at his large erection in the dressing room mirror and felt warm satisfaction at knowing she was the cause of all that hardness. His ass looked as if it was carved from granite, smooth and firm with an indent in the cheek under the shapely muscles.

He flipped through the shirts in his closet and removed one. He turned and held it up to her, flashing her another frontal of just how ready he was to fuck her. “How about this one?”

How about this one? No man had ever asked her opinion about the shirt he was about to wear. That kind of question was reserved for long-lasting relationships. It seemed out of place, too homey, too intimate.

She stared at the black shirt in his hands. “Mm-mm.”

He pushed his arms into the sleeves and buttoned it up. “What do you feel like eating? Any preferences?”

He expected her to think about food? She leaned her arms back to support her weight, trying hard not to look at his straining hard-on again. “What do you have?”

He chuckled and took a pair of jeans from a rack. “You sound bored. You’re not big on eating, are you?”

Watching the simple act of him dress was one of the most erotic things she’d seen. He pulled the pants over his hips and adjusted his cock before folding the cuffs of his shirtsleeves back twice to reveal strong forearms, the golden hairs erect in the breeze that came through the sliding doors.

He zipped up the pants and walked to her. “Come. Let’s grab a bottle of wine. I hope you like fish.”

No shoes again. No underpants either. This was going to be a long night. No. Sex should never have come into the equation. She’d been so certain of using it as a weapon against him, when now, it seemed that it was the very weapon he turned on her. She straightened her back as a new resolution took hold of her. She wouldn’t sleep with him. Not an option. She only had to keep him on a leash, interested but at a distance, just long enough to get what she came for. Tim’s operation, whatever he was involved in, was going to bite the dust. When it did, she wanted to walk away as always, easily, without looking back.

She got up and turned for the door. Tim’s hand settled on her lower back, his thumb brushing over her spine as he led her back into the hallway. “Would you like to eat inside or outside?”