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Nathan’s loving smile mocked her from the frames, his blue eyes, so full of love, so soft with desire, lied to her every time she looked at them.
That was the hardest part to accept. It made her wish she had never known who Noah Blake was; it would have been easier. She wouldn’t have loved him, this deep she wouldn’t have hurt with the ragged desperation that she hurt with now. She could have let Noah go without a whimper, because she would have hated him for stealing anything that belonged to her Nathan. But how could she hate the man Nathan had become?
“Say goodbye, Noah,” she told him. “You have tonight to do it. Because if you intend to walk out of my life, then it may as well be goodbye. I won’t wait on another man. And I’ll be damned if I’ll become a living shrine to another.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
It rose inside him.
He could feel the dominance fueled by her challenge, her defiance, her intention that tonight was going to be their last night.
He let his gaze flicker over her face, the slight throb on his lower lip reminding him that she was pushing him deliberately.
Those soft gray eyes roiled with shadows, light and dark clashing together as emotions tore inside them both. He wanted to be tender. He wanted her last memory of being his woman to be one of tenderness. But it wasn’t tenderness she wanted. It wasn’t tenderness rising inside him.
The lust wasn’t tempered, but neither was it mindless. Like the death that filled him when he hunted, this lust that rose inside him for this woman was patient, determined.
She smiled tauntingly. As though she didn’t believe he could do it. Couldn’t master her. Couldn’t fight the memory of the man she had become a living shrine for.
His gaze flickered to the pictures behind her, and agony, sharp and red-hot, lanced his soul. He wasn’t that man anymore. A part of him wanted to be. A part of him needed to be. But that man really had died, leaving only what had risen from his ashes.
He stepped back from her. He didn’t touch the chaps, he unzipped his jeans and released the thick, heavy length of his cock. He stroked his hand from shaft to tip as his hand struck out, tangling in her hair as she moved to jerk back from him.
“Do you want it all, Sabella?” he drawled then, smiling back at her, daring her. “Do you want it, or do you just want to play games and talk the talk, baby?”
She glared back at him, her lips parting, teeth clenched.
“You came to the bar this evening because of me, didn’t you?”
“I did.” He lowered his head, bared his teeth. “You’re mine. Right here. Right now. As long as that tight, sweet little pussy gets wet for me then you belong to me. Not those jackin’ assed cowboys puffin’ around you like a bunch of damned stud horses butting around after a favorite mare.” Indignation ripped through him. “You were dancing with them.”
“Where were you?” she asked deliberately, her lips pouting back at him mockingly. “Where were you, Noah? Were you here? Were you keeping your mare satisfied, or turning her loose to pasture?”
His eyes widened. “You little witch,” he growled.
His fingers tightened in her hair. “Did you find my replacement?”
“I haven’t started looking yet. Should I let you know before I do?”
He had to grip the base of his cock to keep from blasting his come. She was more than challenging tonight. She was standing before him daring him, fucking daring that dark, deliberate hunger inside him.
“Just waiting on me to leave?” he growled, tipping her head back, feeling her hands against the leather vest he wore over his shirt.
She was peeling it back from his shoulders, tugging at the hold he had on her hair to rid him of it.
“Do you think one of those jackasses on that dance floor can even come close to this, baby?” He shed the vest, releasing her and his cock just long enough to let it drop to the floor.
Before she could duck away from him he had her again. One hand in her hair, the other at her hip, pushing her against the side of the stairs as she stared up at him, lips parted and curled mockingly. But he saw the pain in her eyes, the tears that were so close.
What was he doing to her? To himself?
Holding her in place, he lifted his hands and jerked his T-shirt off. Her eyes flicked to his chest and her breathing grew heavier.
My heart beats for yours.
My soul lives for yours.
My body, my hands, my lips.
