Page 135 of Blood Day

I kissed her as I continued toward the waterfall, my arm encircling her lower back while my tongue relayed my gratitude.

She was so perfect.

Soexquisite.

She made me want to believe in something more, to explore emotions I’d never considered before.

“Take another breath,” I told her, only giving her seconds to obey before dunking us both beneath the waterfall.

Then I went to the bench behind it, the seats allowing a good platform to sit and watch the water flow from overhead.

I sat and allowed Lily to curl herself in my lap, her sobs echoing in the small, private space.

“I hate you,” she whispered.

“I know.” I nuzzled her neck, loving the way her pulse still sang with terror. “But you want me, too.”

I slid my hand between her legs, feeling the natural lubricant that differed from the water around us.

She tightened her grip around me and buried her face against my chest. “I hate you,” she repeated, her voice hoarse.

I kissed the top of her head as I slid two fingers into her, my thumb grazing upward to find her clit.

“I hate you,” she said for a third time, her pussy clenching around my fingers and demanding more. “I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.”

“Straddle me, Lily,” I whispered. “Show me how much you hate me.”

She shuddered, her hips shifting as she pressed herself against my hand. I hooked my fingers in a way that I knew would drive her mad, eliciting a choked sound from her throat.

My opposite hand went to her hair, fisting the strands and tilting her head back to expose her expressive face.

Tears tracked down her flushed cheeks, her lips parting on a strangled moan, her eyes glazed with hateful passion.

“Straddle me,” I repeated.

Her gaze narrowed, the words “fuck you” glittering in that look. But her body obeyed.

I pulled my hand out from between her legs as she slid over my lap, those slender thighs parting around me in glorious invitation.

Her nails dug into my shoulders as though she was afraid to fall backward into the pounding waterfall. Which only made me want to push her in exactly that direction.

I caught her wrists. “Let go of me.”

Her lower lip trembled as she forced herself to comply.

Then I guided her hands behind her back and bent her arms in a way that made it easy to clasp her opposite elbow. She was essentially crossing her arms, just backward and behind her back.

Her pupils were dilated with a mixture of terror and arousal, painting a beautiful sight before me.

“Don’t let go of your elbows,” I demanded, my palmgoing to her breastbone while I kept my other hand loose at my side.

Her pulse picked up again, her breaths coming in pants.

“Inhale,” I told her.

She did.

“Now exhale.”