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“Does this feel to you like I don’t want you?” he demanded.
Her face was flushed. Not with embarrassment or shame. He could see the heat enter her eyes, her cheeks. Her lips unconsciously parted, emitting a breathy sound that made him hurt all the more.
“Me not wanting you is not the issue,” he growled. “Me taking advantage of you is.”
A soft smile curved her lips, her eyes glittering more boldly. A distinctly, delicious feminine spark of mischief fired in the depths of those expressive eyes. And he knew in that instant he was in trouble. The kind a man didn’t necessarily mind.
Then she heaved an exaggerated sigh, as though she was sorely put upon, even as her eyes held the promise of tender retribution.
“Well, if you aren’t going to take advantage of me, then I guess I’ll just have to take advantage of you.”
SEVENTEEN
DESPITE her teasing words and her brazen manner, Ari was terrified. She only hoped she could pull this off without giving herself completely away. Beau Devereaux was not a man women overlooked. And he likely never had to look far for sexual company, of that Ari was certain.
While not handsome in a sophisticated, pretty and polished manner, as some men of wealth were, Beau was . . . harder looking. Like he’d seen—endured—the other side of the sun. Where darkness and danger lurked. And his confidence was extremely attractive to a woman like Ari who didn’t possess it, but craved it. She admired confidence in others, and one thing she’d noticed about all of the DSS employees or operatives or whatever they called themselves is that they wore confidence like skin. Perfectly fitted. That kind of assurance couldn’t be faked. She ought to know, because she sucked at faking anything.
She applied just a little more pressure to his groin, where he’d placed her hand over his rigid erection. Even through the thick denim and the underwear he wore, she could feel his penis pulsing and straining eagerly toward her touch.
It seemed body and mind weren’t in accord for Beau. His manner was reluctant, but his body wanted her. Even with as little sexual knowledge as she had, she recognized the signs of lust and desire, and it gave her an infusion of badly needed confidence.
She didn’t know how to be a siren. A temptress out to seduce a man with body and words. But she was about to get a crash course, because there was no way she was passing up the opportunity to see Beau Devereaux naked, beautiful. And hers. At least for one night.
Her possessiveness surprised her. The fact that she wanted to lay claim to this man, put her brand on him so others would know to back the hell away or incur her wrath. Who knew she could be so jealously greedy? She quite liked this undiscovered side of herself.
More than her powers were now unleashed and operating at inhuman speeds. Her sexuality was unfurling like the petals of a flower in spring. Her body ached for this man. Her soul ached for him. The touching of two hearts, two spirits, becoming one.
A stuttered hiss escaped his lips and she glanced up to see his jaw tight and quivering, his eyes closed, head thrown back even as his pelvis lifted, arching into her touch greedily.
“Do you want me, Beau?” she whispered, the words catching in her breathy excitement. “Because I want you—this. I need you. Right here, right now.” She paused for a microsecond, held her breath and then said, “Please.”
It was too close to begging for her liking. Yes, she was pampered and spoiled. She readily admitted that. But she had pride. And the truth was, she’d never had to beg for anything in her life. This was completely new and foreign and she was fraught with uncertainty even as her pulse raced in delicious anticipation of having Beau’s body above hers, inside her, feeling the hardness currently filling her hand and nearly delirious with wondering how he would feel sliding into her most intimate recesses.
“God, yes I want you,” he said through clenched teeth. “Have mercy, honey. You’re killing me here. There is no need to ask me to give you what you want—what you need. If you’re sure—if you are absolutely positive that I am what you want, then I am more than happy to comply with your sweetly worded request.”
She moved her hand up his muscled body and curled it around his nape, pulling him down to her mouth, desperate to feel his lips on hers again. Then she shivered, imagining his mouth on other parts of body. Her breasts . . . the throbbing, clenching lips of her vagina.
It was simply too much to process all at once. Her mind was alive, brimming with erotic images of the two of them, tangled up, moving as one. Him coming inside her, on her, marking her as though he owned her.
Chill bumps erupted, doing a tantalizing dance over her skin. Her nipples puckered and her breasts were heavy and aching, swelling with need for his touch. She was suddenly impatient, wanting to be skin on skin, no barriers between them.
“Show me,” she whispered. “Show me what to do. How to do. How to please you. I want to see you, Beau. Take your clothes off. Please.”
This time the please wasn’t her begging. It was a demand of lover to lover. She shivered delicately again. The word lover had never had such an impact on her, because she hadn’t experienced the essence of having a lover. Of being someone else’s lover.
Beau rose up from the bed, nearly tearing his clothing as he stripped down to his underwear. Then, as if sensing her heightened excitement, he took his time with his underwear, inching it downward to expose his thick, distended cock, inch by delicious inch.
He was a feast of pure alpha male and she wanted to touch and explore so much that she didn’t even know where to start.