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“Sabella,” he whispered. “Touch me. Just touch. Close your eyes and be with whoever you need to be with, but touch me.”
He lifted her hands, pressed them against his hard stomach beneath the bandage that covered the knife wound. He felt her jerk, felt her response.
“I would die for your touch.” He kissed her lips again, watched as her head lifted, her soft gray eyes cloudy with her tears, with the lost dreams.
She shook her head and he kissed her again. His lips caught hers this time, settled against them, and rather than devouring as he needed to, he let himself sip, let himself taste.
Because she responded. Torn between the man she loved and the man she wanted. And he couldn’t allow her to suspect both were breathing and aching for her.
“Please don’t,” she whispered when his head lifted and he drew her back into the living room. Drew her to the bedroom.
“Walk away then.” He turned, shucked his jeans, and palmed the thick, heavy erection pounding with lust.
Her gaze flickered to him and she trembled. He could see the battle on her face. Sweet beautiful Sabella. Battling her anger, her fear, her want.
He lay back on the bed and stroked his heavy cock. And she watched. Her fingers fisted in her T-shirt now, her face flushed though tears still glittered in her eyes.
“I’ll lie right here,” he promised her. “I’ll be a good boy and you can ride me, Sabella.”
She used to love that, he remembered. She had loved rising over him, taking him, working his cock inside her at her own pace.
He watched her gaze darken, watched the hunger crawl inside her, watched as her breathing deepened, grew heavier. Her breasts lifted against her shirt, hard little nipples pressing into the fabric.
“Come here.” He held his hand out to her. “Let me tell you what it feels like inside you. How your mouth feels going down on me. Your hands on my flesh.”
He was dying for her hands on him. Aching. Racked by the need in ways he had never been tortured before this.
She hesitated. He watched the battle in her gaze. The battle between him and the memory she refused to let go.
Forever. Something inside him gentled as he remembered the vow she had always whispered to him. That she would love him forever. And he had sworn he would return to her forever.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, her hands lowered to the hem of her shirt and she removed it. Slowly.
Her hair was unbound, lying past her shoulders in thick, heavy waves as she tossed the shirt aside, leaving her breasts covered only by the filmy silk of her bra.
She sat down, unlaced her boots, and pulled them free of her small feet, then pulled off her jeans. It wasn’t a seductive striptease. It was a woman finally releasing something inside herself. Or testing something. He wasn’t certain, and his mind was clouded by the lust raging inside him.
“This isn’t normal.” She stepped to him, easing onto the bed beside him as she let her hand smooth up the inside of his thigh. “This hard. This aroused. You were bleeding bad last night, Noah. Give me this much at least. Tell me what’s wrong with you.”
He clenched his jaw. He could feel the sweat popping out on his flesh, dampening him as the fever nearly took his head off it spiked so hard inside him.
“Have you heard of whore’s dust?”
She blinked. “It’s a date rape drug. Or was.”
“Was.” He nodded. “We were tracking the man selling it and I was captured. Pumped up on it for a while. There are still minute amounts of it in my body. Adrenaline pumps it through me. Wounds, fevers. I get hard. I need to fuck.”
“Anything? Anyone?” Her lashes lowered as her fingers eased over the torturously tight sac of his balls.
He shook his head. “No.”
“How many women have you had since they did this to you?”
“Does it matter?” He wouldn’t lie to her, not now, not while her fingers were caressing his balls.
His thighs shifted apart, allowing her to cup him as a ragged groan tore from his lips.
“Right now, it won’t matter. Later, maybe it will.” She lowered her head, and Noah felt live electricity sear his nerve endings as she tongued his balls with her damp little tongue.
