Chapter 6
Chapter Six
He’d wanted her before he ever saw her face. Been in hell and wanted his angel. Her lips had taken his, desire had blasted through him, and he’d wanted her.
But, first, they’d needed to survive. To escape.
We got out. We survived. Now I need her. Lust was too simple a word for the way he felt. He wanted to claim. To devour. To own every inch of her.
He lowered her onto the bed. His bed. His house.
Not a guest room. Did she even realize that? He’d given her his bedroom. She’d been wearing his robe. A robe that utterly swallowed her. Her wet hair had clung to her cheeks, her eyes had been wide and so very dark, and all he’d wanted…
Was to pounce.
She was beautiful. Too beautiful. Heart-shaped face, deep, dark chocolate eyes. A smile that was wide and gorgeous. That smile of hers—when it flashed, desire stabbed through him. Every. Single. Time. But…
There was something about her smile that sent unease through him at the same time. Something…
Her smile makes her eyes seem even darker.
She was naked beneath the robe. He’d walked into the bathroom, and she’d been naked behind the foggy glass of the shower door. Now, she was naked on his bed.
Technically, the robe still clung to her shoulders, but the front had parted, and he could see her pert breasts—tight nipples that he wanted in his mouth.
Tight nipples.
Bare sex.
Pounce. Slam deep inside of her. Go wild.
A dull roaring filled his ears as he bent toward her.
His mouth kissed a path down her neck, over her racing pulse.
He licked. Sucked. Might have even nipped.
And as his mouth traveled over her, his hands slid over her body.
Over the smooth skin of her stomach. Down.
His mouth closed around one nipple. He sucked hard, and she arched toward him even as his fingers pushed between her spread legs. His fingers stroked her clit. The bandages were on the back of his hands, bandages because he’d torn his skin open when he broke the boards of the coffin—
Darkness.
No breath.
Dirt in my mouth.
Hell. Death—
His mouth sucked harder on her nipple. His fingers rubbed her clit faster. She arched toward him.
“Preston!”
He loved the way she said his name. Husky. Hungry. With need and heavy desire.
He kissed a path to her other breast. Laved the nipple. Took it into his mouth even as her hips arched against his hand.
She’d said adrenaline poured through her body. He was well acquainted with adrenaline and the rush it provided. He climbed mountains, he raced cars, he jumped out of damn planes because… Adrenaline. The rush. It made him feel alive. Like he was more than the walking dead.
She made him feel that way. Right then. Right there.
His mouth trailed down her stomach. Such smooth skin. She trembled beneath him. Her hands grabbed at his shirt. He was still fully dressed.
She wasn’t.
He shoved her thighs apart even more. Spread her open wide for him, and, for a moment, he just looked at her. In the light. Open for him. Perfect. Waiting.
He eased back. Then down.
“Preston?”
He looked up at her as she sprawled before him. Her breath shuddered out.
He put his mouth on her.
“Preston!”
His tongue licked her. Stroked her clit again and again before he drove it inside of her.
Tasting. Becoming obsessed with her taste.
Driven, consumed, his mouth worked her. Again.
Over and over. Endlessly. His tongue raked her clit, he heard her moans and they just drove him on.
More, more, more. He tasted, and he got lost as he licked and devoured.
Then she was slamming her hips against his mouth and coming hard. So hard that she screamed his name.
He lapped up her pleasure. Greedy and eager, savoring every single drop as her body trembled.
His head lifted. Slowly.
She’d grabbed the covers. Fisted them.
Her taste was on his tongue. His tongue had been in her, and he’d never savored anything more. His dick shoved hard against the front of his sweat pants. It would be so easy to ditch them. So easy to shove them down. To yank her closer. To drive his dick into her and come hard inside of her body.
She was there. Body trembling.
She was…
Her eyes opened.
The darkness stared back at him. Such dark, deep eyes.
His jaw locked. Slowly, very slowly because backing away from her was the last thing he wanted, Preston eased from the bed.
“So much for being professional,” she muttered.
He didn’t know what she meant. He just knew…If I don’t get away from her now, I will be fucking her. He’d already gone too far. He’d…
I fucked her with my lips and tongue, and I want to drive my dick into her and own her body.
No, no, too dangerous. He needed to back away. His control had splintered too far. He…he hadn’t meant…
He’d gone into the bathroom to check on her. To make sure she was safe.
He…
He stepped away from the bed.
She watched him with her dark eyes. Saw into him.
What did she see? Could Sloane see the monster that he tried so hard to hide?
Did she see it staring back at her? Because he could feel it, threatening to take over.
Breathing just beneath his skin. The monster inside had found something that he wanted very, very badly… An angel with eyes of darkness.
He took a step away from the bed.
No, get back on the bed. Her legs are spread. She’s wet and ready. She’s open. Drive inside her. She’s going to be so tight and hot. She will—
She sat up on the bed. Pulled the robe around her with hands that shook. Her legs slid closed. “I…”
“I will be in the room next door.” An actual guest room. His words were guttural because speech was such a struggle. His dick ached. “You need me…you call out.”
He turned on his heel. He had to get out of that bedroom. It was either get out or…
Pounce.
Take.
Claim.
He wrenched open the bedroom door and didn’t look back.
“Okay.” Sloane exhaled. Slowly. “Okay.”
No, just saying the word did not make her okay.
Her body still quivered. Aftershocks still reverberated in her core. She’d just come harder than she’d ever come in her life. Right against his mouth and stroking tongue. Then he’d walked away.
“Okay.”
Jeez, how many times was she going to say that one word?
Why had he stopped?
Why had he left?
And how in the hell had she even allowed things to go that far? She always had strict rules about the men she fucked.
We didn’t fuck. Preston and I did not fuck. Technically. His mouth had fucked her. But not his dick.
But she had rules.
She had to follow her rules. When she didn’t, bad things happened. Very, very bad. When she became interested in a man, there had to be no red flags. As in…zero. A strict requirement for any potential fucking.
Nothing about Preston Byron had indicated that he would be an appropriate lover for her.
Not a single thing. She’d never even considered him as a lover.
All right, fine…maybe she’d considered the possibility.
He was sexy to the extreme. And perhaps she’d gotten a little obsessed—no, correction, intrigued—while she’d been doing her research on him.
But she’d planned to keep things professional. Truly. Until…
The dark.
The kiss.
The lust.
She stood up. Her bare feet curled against the hardwood floor. He was not a potential lover. Not.
So why had she been shoving her clit against his mouth? Why had she been rocking her hips so hard against him?
I can still feel the pleasure in me.
She took a step forward. Her knees were all jiggly. Her body was sated but edgy. Still edgy. Maybe she should go after him. And…do what? Tell the man to finish what he started.
Nope.
“Okay,” she whispered again. Dammit! Her gaze darted around the room. A dresser. Heavy wood. Old. No, antique. Fancy. She rushed toward it and yanked open a drawer. Soft t-shirts were inside. She pulled one out.
Uh, oh.
Her shaking fingers held up the shirt. Way big. So big it would probably fall to her knees. As big as the robe in the bathroom had been. And when she brought the shirt close and inhaled…
It held the faintest hint of Preston’s crisp, masculine scent. A subtle sandalwood.
Her head turned. She surveyed the bedroom with new eyes. Oh, crap. She wasn’t in a guest room. She was in his room.
In Preston Byron’s bedroom. He just made her come on his bed.
Preston hurried into the guest room near hers. Went straight to the shower. Yanked on the water and stripped. He’d already showered earlier, using one of the many bathrooms in the house, a house that he knew was far too big.
But he didn’t care. Big houses made him feel like he wasn’t being buried the fuck alive.
The water was icy when he stepped beneath the spray. It should have cooled him down. It didn’t. Because he could still taste her. Could feel her against his tongue.
His hand slid down. Curled around his dick.
Her skin had been soft. Smooth. She’d arched against him.
He began to pump his cock, his grip tight, but not as tight as she’d been. She’d been hot. Clinging to him. Moaning for him.
His hand jerked on his cock. He didn’t want his own hand on him. He wanted hers on him. Her hand. Her mouth. Her tight pussy.
He didn’t see the shower wall. Didn’t see anything but her.
Nipples tight. Legs spread.
He’d feasted on her.
He wanted to fuck her.
And he came right there, in the shower, with her taste on his lips and her body in his mind.
She backed away. Slowly. Kinda crept back as soundlessly as she could.
Maybe going into the room next door had been a bad idea. Maybe heading toward the bathroom and the partially open door had been bad. Maybe watching Preston Byron jerk off while he said her name had been bad.
But it had felt oddly good.
Still, once she hit the hallway Sloane all but ran back to the room she’d originally been given. His room. She snapped off the lights and dove under the covers. Her heart raced, and she wondered…
Had he seen her?
The glass shower door had not been foggy. There had been no steam in the bathroom. She’d peeked around that partially open bathroom door, and she’d seen him and he’d been…
Wow.
Muscled. Powerful. Sexy.