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She was so taken aback by the turn of this conversation that her top half pitched forward, and she nearly smacked her face against his. But she caught herself against his chest right on time, arms circling his neck.
“I need you to understand something,” he began. “We’re going to fight. We’re going to disagree. We’re going to give each other the silent treatment.” A smile tugged at the corner of his lips, showing off his dimple, as he amended, “You’re going to give me the silent treatment.”
“I will not,” she argued.
“Yes, you will.” His hands shifted to cup her backside. “Who is Loren Calla if she doesn’t give her man the silent treatment?” Amusement twinkled in his gaze. But then he turned serious, those eyes blazing with intensity instead of humor. “But I want it, Loren. I want all of it. Everything that you have to offer—every fight, every disagreement, I want it all.” He kissed the corner of her mouth, the contact sparking a fire deep inside her. “And even if I was angry with you tonight for the reasons you thought, I wouldn’t have held it against you. But—” He went silent then, the shift so abrupt that her heart skipped a beat.
She traced the shape of his lips with her index finger. “But what?”
A new smile played on his mouth. “I am pretty angry,” he admitted. “Just not at you.” Those hands squeezed her ass. “And I could really use something right now. Something to take my anger out on.” He was covering her mouth with his before she had a chance to speak.
The kiss was rough. Desperate. Her hands went to his hair, fingers threading through the silken strands. He groaned into her mouth, his tongue claiming hers. She could feel his erection pressing between her thighs, and she wanted it, wanted him buried inside her more than she wanted to breathe.
But he broke the kiss and set her on her feet. “Arms up.” He nipped at her bottom lip.
She did as she was told, and he took off her shirt and cardigan and threw them on the floor. He pulled her close, his chest grazing hers, as his hand went to the clasp on her bra. She was breathing heavily, her breasts rising against him with every lungful. The clasp loosened with a deft flick of his fingers, and he slipped her bra off, admiring the sight of her standing topless before him.
And then he was lowering himself to a crouch before her, his hands drifting to the buttons on her jeans.
Loren held her breath as he undid the buttons and zipper. Slowly, he tugged her jeans down, leaving her thong on. When a lock of his hair shifted to fall in his face, the tip of it grazing the bare skin of her thigh, her heart stumbled. A kaleidoscope of butterflies swarmed her stomach, wings catching fire from the flame growing inside her.
As he shimmied her pants down past her knees, he pressed a kiss to the pulse between her legs. Through the pearl lace of her underwear, the brush of his mouth was excruciatingly light, but he still succeeded at making her squirm.
Especially when he looked up at her, those cavernous eyes swallowed up by a deep black that somehow managed to be both intimidating and sexy at the same time.
He stood and gestured to the bathtub behind him. “Sit.”
She shuffled over to the tub, feeling a bit silly with her pants down by her ankles. But the look on Darien’s face as he shadowed her, stepping aside so she could sit, told her he didn’t think she looked silly at all.
As soon as she was sitting, the edge of the tub icy cold under her bare ass, he crouched before her again. He tugged her jeans off her ankles, leaving her in nothing but her socks and underwear.
He dragged his hand down her left leg, past her knee, where his fingers stopped to circle her ankle. His thumb slipped under the edge of her sock, knuckle scraping the arch of her foot. He tugged it off, looking up at her the whole time, those eyes blue again instead of coal-black. He lifted her foot and pressed a kiss to the inside of her ankle, breath warming her skin, before moving onto the right.
“Do you have a thing for feet?” The question was out before she could stop it.
He laughed softly, the rich sound sending tingles all the way from the nape of her neck to the base of her spine. “No. But I have a thing for you.” He tugged the second sock off and threw it aside. His hands found hers, and he stood, pulling her to her feet with him. “I’m obsessed with every part of you.” He trailed a hand down the valley between her breasts…down her stomach…past her belly button. Every muscle in her body tightened with anticipation as that hand slipped lower. He paused right above her pussy, the warmth from his hand—and his close proximity to that ultra sensitive area—making her squirm where she stood, thighs instinctively squeezing together. “Especially this.” The words were husky, and they dripped with lust.
And then that hand was snaking under the string of her panties. He pulled them down to her knees, every scrape of the fabric electrifying her skin, and then let them fall to her ankles. She was stepping out of them just as he grabbed her around the back of the neck and kissed her hard on the mouth, his tongue spreading her lips.
By the time he broke that kiss, her core was tight with need. Her heart slammed in her chest, every beat shaking through her body.
“Take this off,” he demanded, his index finger nudging the fine gold chain that held the Avertera talisman. He gestured to the stone shower beside the bathtub. “Get in the shower.”
He didn’t have to tell her twice.
As she pulled open the glass door and got inside, undoing the clasp of her necklace as she moved, Darien crossed the bathroom and dimmed the lights to a mellow glow.
The shower was spacious, the enclosure scented with the bundles of fresh silver-dollar eucalyptus that were draped above the showerheads, blue-green leaves dripping down like fat drops of rain.
She placed her necklace on the shelf of toiletries and turned both of the showerheads on, adjusting the water to hot. As steam began to cloud the bathroom, streams of warm water jetting out and soaking her body, she turned to watch Darien through the glass.
He was watching her too as he strode back over, and she felt her stomach flipflop as his hands moved to undo his belt buckle.
Heat crept into her cheeks, but she did not remove her gaze, hands held out before her in the streams of water, as he slid his pants and boxers down his hips, every downward shift of his clothing revealing tantalizing glimpses of solid muscle.
Every time they did this, it felt like their very first time. The butterflies were still there. Her heart still skipped beats. The nerves in her stomach still became a tight knot that wouldn’t relent until long after they were joined.
Her eyes swept across the firm muscles in his broad chest, down his heavily tattooed arms, then down to the grooves in his abs. Scars flecked nearly every inch of his body that wasn’t covered in ink, but in the dim lighting they were barely visible, his skin a rich golden color from spending over twenty-four years under Angelthene’s bright sun.
