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“What?” She scowled into the dark. She was so tired and agitated, she felt dizzy just standing here.
He patted the bed beside him.
She laid down on her side—facing him. There was enough distance between her and Roman that it would—should—be easy not to touch each other.
Roman brought the cigarette to his mouth for another drag, and blew a stream of smoke at the ceiling. “Keep going,” he said.
She stopped breathing. Maybe it was the cold quilt, but she found herself shivering. What did he mean ‘keep going’? He wanted her to touch herself right in front of him while he stared at the ceiling like some kind of psychopath? Could this trip be any more mortifying?
“Don’t be shy.” He dragged out the three words.
And goddamn her, she was so turned on by the invitation, so in need of release, that her hand skimmed down the plane of her stomach, her fingers inching toward the pulse between her legs. With Roman lying so close to her, looking more attractive than anyone had a right to, her own touch made her shiver, promising a taste of the pleasure that had eluded her moments before.
She slid her hand into her underwear—the cherry-print thong she’d purchased yesterday—and began to touch herself.
Roman didn’t look at her. He just kept smoking, entirely unaffected by her. This was—
Stupid. Embarrassing. It could’ve been a really hot moment, but instead he was ignoring her. Was this some sort of game? Seeing how easily the seal pup would obey the Shadowmaster like some mindless idiot?
Maybe she was a mindless idiot. It sure felt like it. But then again, the desire that assaulted a hellseher’s body during a Surge could make them do all sorts of embarrassing things in the name of desperate arousal.
She was about to stop when Roman abruptly turned to face her and propped himself up on an elbow. With his free hand he grabbed her by the chin, fingers digging into her flesh, and kissed her—
Well, kind of. His mouth was on hers, his pierced tongue pushing her lips apart. He blew softly into her mouth, velvet smoke filling hers. It didn’t feel romantic, not one bit, but it felt…
Good. It felt good. Especially with her fingers rolling that metal ball into her clit.
A soft whimper climbed up her throat as the taste of Roman and tobacco filled her mouth. Smoke streamed out her nose, and as she touched herself, she arched her body against Roman’s, her nipples hardening against the press of his solid chest. She moved her fingers faster, desperate for the release that was building with rapid speed—
He broke the sort-of kiss, but stayed close enough that their noses were touching. And then he let go of her face and drew her hand out of her pajama shorts. Nudged her knees farther apart.
“Roman.” His name was a strangled gasp on her tongue, but her protests tapered off at first contact—at the feel of his hand intruding in her underwear, lace digging into her ass cheeks as he pulled on the front band. She was hot and tight, and she needed release now.
Roman said, “Yes or no?”
“You’re asking for my consent when you just put your mouth on mine without permission?”
He tugged on her underwear again. “Yes or no?” His eyes burned with an intensity that scorched her to the bone.
She nodded.
“Say it, Shayla.” His use of her full name caused her core to pulse with a vengeance. She wanted him to touch her, and she wanted it right now. Her clit was hot and wet and pulsing, and if he didn’t touch her this goddamn instant, she might start begging.
So she told him, “Yes.”
That hand wasted no time in slipping into her panties. She had never been so grateful for her medication having contained her lightning magic as his warm, rough fingers circled her swollen clit—
And stilled when they found the metal ball.
“What’s this?” His face was too close to hers. Close enough to kiss. She felt seen—too seen.
“I’m not going to answer that.”
His laugh was dark; it reminded her of the very shadows he wielded.
She squirmed, urging his hand to move.
His thumb stilled—teasing. Taunting. She couldn’t take it. “So needy,” he crooned.
