Dark Challenge. Christine Feehan. Dark Series – book 5

“I heard your brother refer to you as Dara. How did you come by such a name?” he asked, his straightforward curiosity completely throwing her off the track.

“I have long been called Dara. It is a nickname. Darius said my mother often called me that,” she answered, moving with him automatically. His body was very close to hers, so that she felt the brush of his thigh, his chest, the heavy muscles coming into brief contact with her, then moving away. Her tongue touched her lips, moistening their sudden dryness. She was intrigued by the way Julian could make her feel so aware of herself as a woman.

“Do you know what Dara means?” Julian asked softly.

Desari shrugged. “It is old Persian. It means, of the dark one.”

Julian nodded. “Do you remember where you came from? Where you were born?”

Desari moved away from him, a subtle retreat from the heat of his body. What she really needed to do was run from the heat in his eyes. No one had ever looked at her as he was doing. Julian slid his arm around her waist and gathered her under his shoulder.

She put her hand on his rib cage to push him away, but somehow her palm lingered against his thin shirt, savoring the heat of him. It drew her like a magnet, in the same way his eyes drew her. She lowered her lashes. This was insanity. But for a few brief hours tonight she would indulge her dreams, allow herself a fantasy that might have to last her for all time.

Julian’s larger frame urged her into the small tavern. The band was playing something soft and dreamy, al lowing him to step around and take her into his arms. The moment he enclosed her against him, he knew it was right. Her body fit into his perfectly. They moved with the same rhythm, matching heartbeats, matching gliding, swaying steps. Her head fit in the niche of his shoulder; her hand belonged in his.

“We should not be doing this,” Desari said. In spite of her determination not to allow him to control her, she couldn’t stop herself from moving in the erotic dance. His thighs were hard columns against her softer ones. He smelled woodsy, mysterious, dangerous. She inhaled, taking in the scent of his blood.

His mouth touched her neck, just a feather-light caress, but the jolt sent shock waves through both of them. Hunger flared in her, hot and erotic, like nothing she had ever known. She felt the warmth of his breath fanning over the pulse throbbing so frantically beneath her skin.

“This is exactly what we should be doing. I have no other choice, cara. I need to hold you in my arms.” His lips were velvet soft, his tongue a rasp of heat stroking her pulse. His fingers enveloped hers, curling her wrist so that he could hold her hand tightly against his heart. “Do you have any idea of how beautiful you really are, Desari?” His teeth scraped a gentle rhythm back and forth over her pulse, sending flames dancing through her body.

Desari closed her eyes and gave herself up to the sheer physical pleasure of the moment. His skin was hot and rough against the softness of hers. She could feel his strength, his muscles like steel. They moved together in such perfect rhythm. She wanted it to go on for all time. His arms made her feel protected and cherished. The burning hunger in his eyes made her feel desirable. His words made her feel beautiful. But most of all, the way his body moved, hot and hard and aggressive as he held her to him, turned her own body into a living, breathing flame.

“It is the way you are inside, Desari, not just the outside package, that makes you so beautiful.” His tongue tasted her throat, his lips sliding up to her chin, to the corner of her mouth.

“You cannot possibly know what I am like,” she protested, even as she turned her mouth blindly to his. She had to taste him, had to know if this was real, this black magic spell he was weaving so effortlessly around her.