“You…do,” he grated, grinding his erection between her legs. Tendons pulled taut as if he fought his actions. Fought and failed.
A gasp of delight escaped her. “Also, they are your competition. They, too, seek the key. Do you honestly believe they’ll share it with you, if they get it?” She pushed her advantage. “Plus, you crave me.”
“You speak of pleasure.” Narrowed eyes, strained tone. He grazed the pad of his thumb over her racing pulse point. “I thought we killed that line of conversation.”
“We did. But you brought it back to life with groin-to-groin resuscitation.”
His mask of civility slipped again. Holding her gaze, he moved his big, callused hands to her sides—his trembling hands. Her breath caught with the realization. He was a steady warrior…until she neared.
Trembling just as forcefully, she awaited his next move. One minute passed. Two. They stood still and silent, staring at each other.
“What are you waiting for, Brochan?” The neediness in her voice embarrassed her because it wasn’t feigned. She continued anyway. “Taste me already. I want your lips on mine.”
He shook his head, but the war inside him visibly intensified, his breaths coming faster. Strain seemed to coil in his every muscle. Then…
“This means nothing.” With a growl, he swooped down and slammed his mouth over hers. He wasn’t shy or tentative about kissing her, but he wasn’t finessed, either. He used force, thrusting his tongue against hers, conquering with abandon, taking everything and demanding more.
Viola kissed him back with equal fervor but far more gently. While his passion fueled her internal fires, she had no desire to speed to the finish line. She was a fine wine. She should be sampled slowly and savored.
Soon, he responded to the gentler laps. He licked and sucked and moaned, his appetite for her unrivaled. She clung to him, desperate for more and more and more.
As he glided those big, rough hands along her back, grazing his claws against the ridges of her spine, she shivered. Then he cupped her backside, yanking her closer and erasing the final gap of air between them. Suddenly, her every heaving inhalation sparked an agonizing friction.
“More,” she demanded.
An error on her part. The split-second pause allowed his fury to rear its ugly head. With a roar, he wrenched his mouth from hers.
Remaining in place, panting, he glared at her, still clasping her tight. Tighter. “I was right. It meant absolutely nothing!”
“Let’s make it mean even less.” Nonplussed, she rose to her tiptoes, gripped one of his horns and—argh!
He jumped backward, dislodging her grip. Though fuming, he didn’t flash off. Or use the separation to calm. No, appearing wilder by the second, he backed her into the wall, walking through steam and hot water without concern for his leathers. His attention remained laser-focused on her as he braced his palms beside her temples.
Voice nothing but smoke and gravel, he said, “You shouldn’t have touched my horn, goddess.”
“Why? Did I summon your basest instincts?”
“Yes,” he hissed, pressing her against cool stone. “Why must you be so beautiful?” Despite his harsh tone, he kneaded her hip, winning a new gasp from her. As she melted into his touch, his eyes blazed. “Why must you look, smell and feel like paradise?”
“The answer strikes me as obvious. I am paradise, Brochan.”
“That’s not—never mind.” He nipped her bottom lip. “Tell me if I do something you do not enjoy.”
So far, she had no complaints. “You won’t know by my reactions?” Something warm and sweet spread through her. She tilted her head to the side. “Are you a virgin, Brochan?” Many Sent Ones were.
Cheeks reddening, he made to turn away from her. She sank her sharp pink claws into his shoulders. And yes, he was strong enough to break her hold. But he didn’t.
“Well?” she prompted, continuing to use that soft, smooth tone. He remained rooted in place, his rich, woodsy scent filling her nose. “Are you?”
“I am not,” he snapped, defensive to the max.
“But…?”
“But.” He glared down at her as if she were to blame for whatever information was poised for escape. “I had not experienced a kiss before. Both females offered me their cheeks.”
The sweet, warmth coated every inch of Viola, parts of her tingling with anticipation. “Foolish girls. I enjoyed your kiss very much. In fact, I demand another right this second.” She clasped his nape and rose to her tiptoes, claiming his mouth with hers.
He did nothing to stop her. Rather, he encouraged her, his shockingly soft lips inviting her deeper. That softness…especially compared to the hardness of the rest of him… She quaked against his strength.
Their tongues rolled together, both giving and taking. Then he took the reins of control, kissing her the same way he fought. Fierce and wild. Primal and real. Raw. He feasted on her mouth, holding nothing back.
She melted into him, fusing their bodies, and he rocked against her. Arcs of pleasure left her gasping. Her heart thudded, igniting an erratic pulse in different parts of her. Aches ebbed and flowed, soon trapping her in a never-ending cycle of anticipation and desperation.
“There is nothing better than this.” He hooked an arm beneath one of her knees, unleashing his inner caveman. “Never want to stop.”
Good. Better than good. “Never stop,” she echoed.
Rocking… “Never held anything as perfect as you.”
His praise went straight to her head. Growing drunk on him, Viola scraped her nails along the root of his wings. Shivers rippled through the silken, ebony tissue, so she did it again.
Moaning, he moved the flanks of those magnificent wings to her sides, blocking out the rest of the world. She grazed a fingertip over a dangerous joint hook, delighting at his newest shiver. Lifting her arms, she grazed his torso, his scalp…his horns.
Those horns stood straighter, all thank you very much. Had any male ever responded so fervently or quickly to her?
He rocked with more force.
A whimper escaped, her need for him amplifying. He adored her. Obviously. The kind of adoration she’d always deserved. If he continued this, she would blossom like a rose, empowered for weeks, months. Years! Outside of the bedroom, he would do everything in his considerable power to make her happy. Surely! And, and, and…she didn’t care about anything else right now. She only desired more of Brochan.
Narcissism whirred and purred, ravenous to control a male as powerful as the Forsaken—a chance to win him, to hurt him and cause untold pain.
Getting too caught up. Red alert! This isn’t a drill. Viola did what she had to do to help Fluffy and save herself. And yes, she absolutely positively planned to use then lose Brochan for his threats against her family. Maybe. Probably. The thing she wouldn’t do? Cater to a horrid demon’s personal amusement.
She should end this kiss now, before things went too far. She should—
Brochan gave a guttural shout and disengaged from her mouth, inch by inch. First, he lifted his head. Then he peeled his chest from hers…his lower body, and released her leg, allowing her to stand on her own power. Then he stepped back, ensuring no part of them touched. A chill rushed over her.