The scent alone was driving him mad.
Fuck.
Fuck.
She turned around to face him again, the fire in her eyes nearly as hot as the fire coursing through her blood. Throughhisblood.
He waited for her to speak. To break. To beg him for another touch.
This time, he wouldn’t deny her. Wouldn’t tease.
One word and he’d be on his knees in the broken glass, his tongue buried so deep in that pussy he wouldn’t even hear her begging for more. He’d give it to her anyway. More. More.More.Again and again and again until she came so hard, so many times, she’d need to be carried out of that cellar. Straight out of Obsidian and into his penthouse, where he’d tie her down and fuck her into the next life.
His cock bulged again.
Jacinda only gaped, incredulous. Feisty. Ready to spar, as always. Her whole body practically hummed with it.
But the witch folded her arms across her bare chest, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response.
“Sorry,” he said in a tone that assured her he wasn’t. “Was there something else you needed? Help reaching the wine, perhaps? Damaged merchandise comes out of your tips, and that Bordeaux was a rare vintage.”
Despite the untamed desire surging in her eyes, the witch still wouldn’t bend.
Gabriel grabbed a dishtowel from a stack on a nearby shelf and wiped his fingers. A dick move—one that made his gut clench with revulsion at his own boundless capacity for assholery—but if he walked out of that cellar still wearing her on his skin, he wouldn’t be able to function. Wouldn’t even make it up the stairs before he marched right back down again, ripped off that thong, shoved her against the racks, and buried himself deep inside.
Hurt flickered in her eyes, but the fire burned it away fast. “Seriously? You’re just… leaving?”
“Unless you need me for something?” he repeated. Then, met only with raging silence, “Perhaps next time you’ll reconsider the prudence of playing games with a professional gambler. Oh, and Jacinda?” he tossed the towel into the puddle of wine at her feet. “Clean that up, or instead of mixing drinks you’ll be chasing rats.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Hours later, pacing her apartment like a caged animal, Jaci was still pent up and overheated. Lust and anger simmered in her blood in equal parts, her whole body on fire from Gabriel’s filthy touch.
Bruises marked her thigh where he’d gripped her, a stark reminder of his strength. His ferocity. His wildness.
She despised what he’d done to her. Despised even more that she wanted him to do it again. Even after an ice-cold shower and a few stiff drinks, she still couldn’t erase the memory of his hands searing her skin. His mouth on her breasts. His fangs grazing her sensitive flesh as he drove his fingers maddeningly inside her again and again…
“Fucking asshole vampire!”
Hellfire tickled her palms, aching to burst free. Gabriel was lucky he’d left her alone tonight. If that motherfucker had come anywhere near her right now, she would’ve roasted him on sight.
Yeah. Sure you would’ve, girl.
Defeat tasted bitter on her tongue.
Curling her palms into fists, she willed the hell magic to abate and flopped onto the bed in resignation.
One and done? A polite roll in the sheets? Why had she said those things? Why had she spoken to him at all? The instant he’d put his hands on her, she should’ve just told him to stop. He’d given her the option, but nope. She justhadto keep pushing those buttons.
And he justhadto keep enticing her with that hot, filthy, mind-erasing mouth.
The only word you’ll be uttering when I’m through with you is more…
Jaci rolled over onto her stomach.
Punched the pillow.
Fisted the blankets.
