Page 17

I blink, coming back to myself. Malachi towers above me, his eyes a deep crimson ringed with a dark golden brown. The sharp angles of his face are accentuated by the harsh planes cast by the shadows from the streetlight coming through the window and the one table lamp that’s on. He’s a god looking down upon his subject, and I’m completely powerless before him.

I should be afraid.

He’s not human.

I can feel the truth of his words when he’d called himself a predator.

Yet, I’m not. Instead, heat flares to life within me, a raging fire that only he can control.

He drops a knee on the couch, the weight pressing into the cushion beside my hip. His scent surrounds me, overwhelming the artificial sandalwood and spice scent of my candles and the natural lavender and vanilla diffuser. He doesn’t touch me, not yet. But the heat radiating from him is enough to warm me.

His hand, a strong masculine hand I’d noticed from the first moment we’d met, comes up and traces the length of my cheek. He trails his fingertips down my jaw, his touch light, but the effect is electric. I can’t help it, I tremble, my lips parting as a soft breath escapes.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice a rough rumble.

“Not really,” I find myself responding.

His hand stops. His eyes narrow. “Are you arguing with me?”

I lift a shoulder, feeling the awkwardness of being pinned beneath him and not touching him. “No. I’m just . . . never mind.”

His lips pull into a small smile, flashing the barest glimpse of his fangs. Before he can say anything else, I grab the back of his neck and pull him into another kiss. So long as I’m kissing him, I don’t think about how I’ve never actually had sex before with a man.

The few men I’ve been involved with have done . . . things to me, but none of them ever fucked me. I never felt the same desire they did. Other than Charlie, it was one of the usual reasons I never made it past a few dates. Malachi doesn’t date and doesn’t feel like a man who’ll make love. He’s sin personified and stokes a need in me that even my favorite vibrator can’t replicate.

But as I trace the seam of his lips, begging him to open his mouth and allow me in, Malachi grabs my wrist. He doesn’t pull away, though. Instead, he breaks the kiss, nipping at my bottom lip and sending a spike of pleasure straight between my thighs. He keeps his face close, our lips almost touching, and stares down at me.

“In a rush, are we?” he asks, his voice a husky rumble.

“I just want you to fuck me, Malachi.”

At the use of his full name, he shudders. His grip tightens on my wrist before he brings it up over my head. Then, he takes my other one, doing the same. He holds both in one of his hands and reaches down to tease my stomach where my tank has ridden up.

“Is that what you want? For me to fuck you?”

His hand slips under the hem and he cups one breast, his thumb grazing across the tip. Pleasure shoots through me, and a low moan escapes my lips.

“Yes, dammit,” I bite out between clenched teeth and jerk against his hold. How many times does he need me to say it?

“Then that’s exactly what I’ll do.”

He presses his free hand against the curve of my lower back, arching my back and pulling me tighter against him.

“But,” his eyes, still the brilliant gold and red, flash. “The first time you cum, it’ll be on my tongue. Not my cock.”

“Wha—?”

My question turns into a yelp as he releases my hands and moves me until I’m sitting up and he’s kneeling in front of me. He grabs the hem of my shorts and tugs them down along with my panties. My heart skips a fraction of a beat, worried that Charlie might have heard me.

“Malachi, wait—” I whisper harshly, realizing what’s about to happen.

He looks up from between my thighs, his hands holding the sides of my hips and pinning them to the cushions. “Blake, do you not want this?”

I swallow, taken in by the image he presents. He’s still dressed in his suit, radiating power and wealth. He’s a Nightshade vampire, violent and brutal from my little experience. And, now, he’s kneeling between me, his touch possessive but not confining. “I’ve just never had a guy—“ I press my lips closed, lifting a shoulder with a bit of deprecation.

“Never had a man go down on you?” Malachi finishes, a teasing note in his tone.

I shake my head, unable to lie. “No. I haven’t.”