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His jaw went tight, a muscle jumping there, and arousal speared her between the thighs.
She had forgotten about Alex and whatever he was doing in the next room. Because one look from Constantine and her entire body was alight. And it had never been thus with Alex. Oh, she had thought him handsome. She had felt comfortable with the idea of sleeping with him. It would be no hardship.
But it had not been like this. This sickness. And perhaps that was one reason she had wanted Alex.
Because this was the very thing she had always feared. But the beautiful thing was she didn’t like Constantine. So she would never be like her mother pining after a man far after he had moved on. She would never pine after Constantine.
She would heal from the disappointment of losing Alex.
Just like she would heal from missing the sheer sexual connection she felt right now with Constantine.
But at least she would never miss the man himself.
So her recovery would be quite a lot easier than it might’ve been otherwise.
“Stop,” he said.
“What?” she asked, feeling confused now.
“Thinking. I do not need you to think. You simply need to feel.”
She focused on the glide of the lace fabric against her skin as she began to tug the bodysuit down over her hips, exposing the rest of her body to his hungry gaze. She swished her hair and focused on the feeling of it skimming over her shoulders.
She felt the breath fill her lungs, felt her heart beating a hard and steady rhythm. Felt that place between her legs go liquid with longing, aching for his touch. For his possession.
And she didn’t think. Not at all.
He appraised her openly, his gaze taking in the most intimate places on her body. He took a step toward her, and then moved to the side, around behind her. He put his hands on her shoulders, let them skim down her arms, and then he placed them on her hips and pulled her against him, and she felt the hard ridge of his desire pushing insistently against the curve of her buttocks. “I want you,” he growled.
“Oh,” she said.
“You are truly beautiful,” he said.
“Now who’s thinking too much,” she said. She turned her head slightly, and then he kissed her, light, teasing. Not enough. She wiggled in his hold and turned toward him, and he deepened the kiss. And it was like fire.
His mouth was firm and hot, his tongue insistent and clever as he licked deeper and deeper into her mouth with each pass of his lips over hers.
She arched against him, completely naked, aware of the silken fabric of his shirt, of a button skimming over her nipple and making her gasp. She could feel the belt buckle on his pants pressing against her stomach, and beneath that the insistent evidence of his desire. He kissed her, and backed her against the wall, the plaster cool beneath her skin, with him hot and hard at her front. She clung to his shoulders as he kissed down her neck, to her collarbone, to her breast, where he took one distended bud into his mouth and sucked hard, making her cry out in a ragged gasp of joy.
She wanted him. And she was going to have him. Because tonight, she would not lose everything. She would not walk away a broken, demeaned woman who had been made a fool of.
She would embrace this darkest part of herself that she had always denied, and she would claim her power once and for all. She was tired of being afraid. She would not allow this to be a lesson in how she could not trust herself. It was other people she couldn’t trust. She was not to blame. She wasn’t.
And in Constantine’s arms that felt true and possible and real.
Because he made her feel like she was everything. He made her feel like she was perfect. He growled, his hands hard on her hips as he thrust forward, making sure that she felt how much he desired her.
“I want you to know,” he growled against her lips, grinding his hips against hers. “I do not behave in such a fashion. I like sophisticated women. Close to my age. With cultured experience. I do not like twenty-two-year-old waitresses with dangerous sexuality they do not know how to control.”
And something in her sparked. She felt the corner of her mouth turn upward into a smile. “Stop then. If you don’t like me. If you don’t want me. Stop.”
He cursed, something vile in Greek, and grabbed hold of her chin, his eyes meeting hers. “Little cat,” he said. “I cannot walk away. Or I would have done so already.”
“Then I suppose this is something you do now. You have painted me with quite the brush, Constantine, it is hardly fair that you get to excuse yourself, exclude yourself, from your own judgment by pretending that this is somehow an aberration, and therefore excusable. If I am an aberration, then perhaps it is because I am singular. A sea change in the world of the most immovable Kamaras.”
“Then I will drown.”
He kissed her again, and hauled her against his body, as he moved them across the vast chamber, toward his bed. He flung her down on the center of the mattress, and stood back, his eyes wild on hers as he undid the buttons on his shirt, as he stripped it off and let it fall to the floor, his pants and underwear following. And Morgan was faced with the sight of a naked man for the first time in her life. He was... Glorious. An Adonis carved from golden marble. Except he was not cold. He was hot. And that most masculine part of him was... Cruelly, dangerously beautiful. He made her ache with desire, even while she battled her virgin’s nerves.
