Page 70 of Wicked Bonds

Leela knewwhat Balthazar was trying to do—ground her. Settle her mind. Sharpen her focus by giving her something else to concentrate on. Distract her from her thoughts.

Devour her.

Indulging in sex might be the worst decision they could make in this situation.

Or it might turn out to be for the best.

Because Balthazar was right—they were safe.For now.

She could dwell on how quickly the Seraphim had found them and spend the day worried about when they would show up again. Or she could let Balthazar provide the ultimate form of a distraction and help quiet her mind.

The latter most definitely appealed to her.

Mostly because she knew she functioned better when calm and collected, and right now, she was neither of those things.

She felt disturbed. Lost. Confused.Scared.

The last part was why she’d turned in his arms. She’d wanted to borrow his strength. And now, she wanted to lose herself in his touch.

Which was why she’d misted them upstairs. To his bedroom. Filled with intangible memories she couldn’t define. Because every corner of the room was familiar to her, and yet entirely foreign.

“Stop thinking,” Balthazar said, his fingers clasping her chin and forcing her to meet his molten-chocolate gaze. “Remove the lace for me, sweetheart. I want to properly taste you, Lee. Every inch. Inside and out.”

She shivered, his sensual words infused with a hint of dominance that called to her inner deviant.

Balthazar didn’t just know how to touch a woman; he knew how to stroke them with his words alone. Soft platitudes. Wicked promises. Dark intentions. Heartfelt praise. He was a master of them all.

Which was how he knew exactly how to speak to her now.

Part demand. Part coaxing. One hundred percent confident.

“Now, Leela,” he added, his tone stern.

She wanted to challenge him, to make him work for it. But she also recognized the gift in his touch, the fact that he was doing this for her more than himself.

And that was the primary reason she complied.

He released her as she moved, his eyes roaming over her torso and down to her legs as she gently took hold of the lace strands decorating her hips. His expression didn’t change, the heat in his gaze mild.

That won’t do, she thought at him, deciding to make a show of removing the lace.

It was easy to do.

She turned to present her backside, then slowly bent as she slid the undergarment down her thighs, over her knees, along her calves, and all the way to her ankles. His dress shirt rode upward with each movement, giving him a tantalizing glimpse of her ass when the lacy fabric met her calf. And she remained partially exposed while removing the rest of the garment.

It was a demonstration in patience, a show worthy of a stripping queen, and when she glanced back at him, she knew she’d succeeded. That mild heat in his eyes had blossomed into twin pools of fervency.

With the fabric in her palm, she slowly stood, allowing the shirt to slide back down and cover her curvy assets. Then she turned and held out the lace for him.

He smiled, his dimples peeking playfully at her from the sides. Then they disappeared as he bent his head to take the lace from her fingertips… with his teeth.

Her heart skipped a beat, the warmth between them growing hotter by the second.

His irises held a sinful promise that had her thighs clenching with need, the fire within burning her all the way to her soul.

She wanted more.

So. Much. More.