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“Can you really?” Her head tipped to the side. “Isn’t that nice, Jordan, to be so certain you need nothing, no one. How superior you must feel to the rest of us mortals.”
Sharp, biting, her voice cut straight through the icy disdain he would have shown any other woman. The problem was, with Tehya, there was simply nothing but raw lust and shadowed emotions. That was the reason he stayed as far the hell away from her as possible.
He couldn’t project an icy disdain that simply wasn’t there. What he did have was a dick so damned hard he could pound iron with it.
“I don’t feel superior, Tehya.” Frankly, he felt lacking. In the past years, watching the happiness that filled men who had once been cold, hardened warriors, he’d finally realized what he’d lost in his life.
It was a loss he had accepted long ago, he reminded himself. He couldn’t make the mistakes he had made in the past. The blood and rage that stained the darkest days of his life were never forgotten.
“The hell you don’t.” Anger filled her voice, but naked need filled her eyes. “You stood above your men daily staring down that sharp, arrogant nose of yours as though they were recalcitrant children in need of discipline for actually daring to love. You were mockingly amused at the lot of them.”
Surprise started inside him. Was this what his men thought? What his nephew thought? That he felt himself better than they because they loved?
He’d be damned if that were the truth. He knew the choices he had made, just as he knew that his men were in a far better position than he. They had someone to hold onto at night, someone to ease the aching loneliness.
“Is that what you really believe, Tehya?” He took a step forward, feeling blistering need and offended anger crowding inside him.
He promised himself before coming here that he wouldn’t touch her, that he would simply tell her goodbye.
Goodbye wasn’t going to be enough.
“Why don’t you just go ahead and leave, Commander Jordan,” she sneered, those tempting witch’s eyes flaring back at him as the fiery red of her lashes seemed to blaze around the iridescent color. “There’s the door, don’t let it hit you in the ass. Isn’t that what you Americans say?”
A whisper of French, that alluring little accent that only came out under the most extreme situations whispered across his senses as it always did.
It may have whispered across his senses but it seemed to wrap around his cock and squeeze. His balls tightened, the tormenting ache filling them increasingly.
She did this to him. She made him crazy like this and there wasn’t a damned thing he could do to stop it. It traveled through his bloodstream like poison, like a potent drug, stripping away the control he prided himself on and leaving him grasping at the threads of decency as he tried to force himself away from her.
“You don’t want to keep pushing this,” he warned her.
“Well hell, you must be enjoying it, Commander, you’re still standing here.” Her breasts were heaving, the nipples so hard beneath the silken material he swore they were going to pop right through the threads.
The urge to lick his lips was almost overpowering. The need for her was almost overpowering.
“I could fuck you,” he growled then. “It’s what you want, it’s what we both want, but have you considered what would happen the morning after?”
“Will there be a morning after?” she questioned him roughly. “Aren’t you the one who said you could fuck me, but then you would have to kill me? Double O Seven has nothing on you, does he, stud?”
Stud? She did not just call him Stud?
Damn her, the woman didn’t have the good sense to know when to keep her smart mouth shut or her tender heart safe.
Before he could stop himself, his hands were on her. His fingers curled around her upper arms as he jerked her to him, watching as her eyes widened, her hair seeming to flow around her as the pure silk of her flesh met the calloused roughness of his hands.
And then he froze. Because her skin was so fucking soft. Beneath his palms felt as heated, warm and soft as a cloud itself.
Spreading his fingers apart he touched her with his palms only, watching as he let the inner part of his hand cup the curve of her shoulder.
Hell, he wanted her. He wanted to fuck her until he was mindless with it, until nothing or no one mattered but Tehya.
She would be the death of him.
That was but a distant thought as he let himself relish the feel of his palms. He swore he could feel the sizzle of heat just below the flesh, drawing him, surging through his pores and washing through his system.
“Bad idea.” Swallowing tightly, he stared back at her, so focused on the strength of the need surging through him that all thoughts of pulling back evaporated.
The emerald green of her eyes darkened, glittering with need as he watched her lips tremble.
