“I don’t need to explain him.” He was wreaking havoc with her insides, melting her like butter. Just looking at him made her feel weak and shaky. “It’s getting hot in here,” she complained. “You didn’t turn on the heater, did you?”
“Carpathians can regulate their own body temperatures.”
She nodded. “Of course they can. Why didn’t I think of that?”
Lucian leaned into her so that the heat of his skin touched her through the thin material of her blouse. He swept back strands of her platinum hair. “You do feel a bit on the warm side.” He was frowning as he checked her forehead. Touching her skin was addicting. The more he did it, the more he needed to do it. “Think about feeling cool, angel, and it will automatically be so.”
She pushed at the wall of his chest. Who could think about cool when he was standing so close to her? “Get away from me, Lucian, and stop looking at me that way.”
“How am I looking at you?”
“You know,” she accused and deliberately caught up the rest of the newspaper. “Go away. If you touch me again, I’m going to break into a million pieces.”
“I merely wish to kiss you,” he murmured innocently, his voice velvet soft and deliberately seductive. He lowered his head to touch the pulse beating so frantically in her neck with the heat of his mouth. He felt it jump beneath his exploring tongue. His fingertips caressed her skin, pushing aside the thin ribbed cotton of her shirt to slide along her delicate collarbone. She felt like satin to him, unbelievably soft. At once need rose, sharp and urgent. He leaned his weight into her, forcing her smaller frame back into the couch. He cupped the fullness of one breast in the palm of his hand while his mouth took possession of hers.
He breathed her in, took her scent into his body. She was small beneath his wandering hands, so perfectly formed, a miracle of soft skin and silky hair. Even as his body made its demands and he felt her acceptance, her need and willingness to assuage his hunger, he sensed her exhaustion. She was still sore. He should have taken more care with her, as small and fragile and inexperienced as she was. He had been far too demanding of her. Her knew better; he had been just that little bit out of control.
“I am sorry, honey. I should have been more careful of you.” He kissed her temple, then stroked a hand through her silky hair. “I can heal you,” he offered.
“You didn’t hurt me, Lucian,” she protested immediately, blushing at the thought of what he had done, the pleasure she had experienced. “I like the way my body feels.” As if I belonged to him.
You do belong to me.
She loved that, the intimacy of his velvet voice whispering in her mind to her alone. Their secret world of heat and darkness. She would never be alone again. Never have to face the monsters in the world alone again. Jaxon knew she was looking up at him with stars in her eyes, and it irritated her. She looked away from him, pretending to find the newspaper more interesting.
Lucian laughed softly, a man’s amusement at finding his woman shy after hours of making love. Jaxon’s long lashes lifted for a moment to chastise him before she returned to her reading. Almost at once she spotted the next article, her body going ramrod stiff. “Listen to this, Lucian. James Atwater apparently shot himself in his own home. He left a note saying he couldn’t live with himself anymore after taking so many lives at the direction of Samuel T. Barnes. He actually named Barnes. No way would Atwater suddenly have an attack of conscience. He isn’t like that. This has to be a purge in the ranks. These guys must have made a mistake, and someone higher up the food chain ordered the hit. Whoever took them out did a good job to get the coroner to rule the deaths from natural causes, accident, and suicide. The reason I got on to Barnes in the first place was his association with Atwater. Atwater was a straight-up killer.”