Page 51 of The Devil and His Ghost

Yet as he answered my inquiry, I was hit with a sudden need, one that swept through me like a tidal wave so strong, my next question tumbled out before I could even consider what I was saying.

“Can you show me?”

I expected to regret the request, but the minute the words were out, the more I found myself wanting it. That fiery pulse flared brighter at the mere idea of watching Xander satisfy himself.

Seeming to sense my intense interest, he didn’t hesitate to oblige. He reached behind himself to grab his shirt and yanked it over his head. The corded muscles in his arms and torso flexed with the discarding of his shirt. It surprised me how badly I wanted to lick those two black upside crosses tattooed above his pelvic bones.

Standing to unbutton his jeans, his hungry eyes collided with mine. “Would you like to only watch or join?”

“J-Join?” I asked a bit breathlessly.

He nodded as he stepped out of his pants, now in only a pair of tight black briefs. The upright bulge confined within the material made heat rush to my cheeks, but I didn’t hide from the feeling. I embraced it and looked my fill of the large outline straining the material. He caught my obvious interest and ran a hand down his torso to palm his cock through his boxers. The sight caused my breath to hitch and my body to burn with a desperate need.

“Join,” he finally repeated with a rough and sensual edge to his usually gleeful tone. He came to the edge of the bed and offered me his hand. “You watch me while I watch you.”

“But I … I don’t know how to …”

“You’ll learn. And I’d fucking love to watch you do just that.”

I bit my lip and stared at his outstretched hand. I wanted to. My fucking god, did I want to. There were only a handful of times in my life where I thought about sex and how it would be if I one day found the courage to try. Every time I pictured that moment, it was always him between my legs. I’d never trust or feel as comfortable with anyone else. This was my chance to reclaim the thing that haunted me, and there wasn’t another soul out there who I’d rather do that with than this demon.

Wordlessly, I slipped my hand into his. It was the first leap into deep waters, ones I expected to be frigid but were perfectly warm. That gesture, though small, made my muscles relax, and I leaned into the feeling of contentment that came from just having his hand around mine.

He pulled me to my feet, and for a moment, we simply stood there.

Toe to toe.

Gazes locked.

My hand held firmly in his.

His thumb idly drew circles on the back of my hand, and with each small sweep, the apprehension receded further from my mind until all I could focus on was our shared breaths, each flutter of his lashes, and the way the space between us became smaller and smaller.

He turned so that he sat on the edge of the bed, and I stood between his legs. His hand never let go of mine. He didn’t rush to rip off my clothes, and he only gripped that one hand for physical contact. Without words, he told me this was my choice. How much he saw, how much we touched, how fast or slow this went.

Though, I didn’t miss how hard his jaw clenched through his soft yet lustful smile or how his obsidian eyes practically sweltered with a passionate heat that even his Incubi friends couldn’t hope to feel. He was holding back. And he did so for my sake.

That only made me want him more.

Most of my walls were still firmly in place. I couldn’t stomach the idea of taking off my clothes. Not yet. Baring myself like that was too much. He seemed to see that decision get made in my eyes, because he gave a small understanding dip of his head.

He slid back along the bed and tugged me after him so that I crawled on my knees. When we reached the center of the bed, he stopped and opened his legs for me to settle between them. My knees bent to my chest like a final boss that I had to conquer. Heat poured from his hold into mine. I looked at our joined hands before my gaze swung to his nearly naked body.

Releasing his grip, I gingerly coasted my fingertips up his forearm. I took my time tracing the gothic cathedral tattoo he’d given himself before continuing up his arm and over his shoulder. His bare skin under my fingers made something raw climb my throat, and I had to swallow hard. I flattened my hand against his chest and soaked in the way his muscled torso felt beneath my palm.

“Did you know?” I asked hoarsely. I stared at my hand, which rested atop his thundering heart. “You’re the only one I can stand touching me.”

A brow rose in surprise. He studied me for a moment then guessed, “Is that why you don’t get more tattoos?”

“Kinda hard to get inked when being touched kills you.”

He looked up at the ceiling and gave a small, humorless chuckle under his breath. “That definitely explains some things.” He met my gaze again. “Is that why you haven’t explored sex or physical intimacy, either?”

I chewed on the inside of my lip and nodded once more.

“But you’re okay if I touch you?”

The question shot liquid fire right through me. My heart nearly leapt from my chest, and I gave a single nod. “Is—Is that weird?”