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“Ha! You think very highly of yourself, don’t you?” She shoved his hands from her waist, and this time he allowed her to slide off him. Here was the anger he’d expected, only now, he didn’t understand it a whit.
Ignoring the ruined fabric of her panties—because he’d ripped them off her like a brute—she bent over to snatch up her bra from where it had landed, giving him a full view of the evidence of his misconduct. Guilt assailed him, followed by a disgraceful bout of renewed lust. He wanted to pull her back on the bed and kiss her tender cheek until she forgave him.
Still nude, furious, bra dangling in her grip, she marched past him toward the door. If those marks on her rear were not what fueled her anger, then what had? He racked his brain. And how was he expected to decipher her anger when her gorgeous tits were bouncing so deliciously before him?
He turned to watch her storm out, his eyes once more focusing on the angry red marks on her ass. Just before she left, she said over her shoulder, “To think, I was going to blow you till your eyes rolled back in your head, but now I’m thinking, why bother?”
Wait.What?
19
Jessie had never been so angry. Except maybe that time when her college ex had cheated on her with her buxom dormmate. Keying “scumbag” onto the side of his Dodge Neon had made her feel better, but only a little.
She wasn’t one to have an ego over her sexual performance. But then, she’d never had any complaints. Nice?Nice?
What for her had been a mind-altering experience, to him had merely beennice.
She balled her fists, then scolded herself for letting this get to her. Of course he’d had better. How could he not have? His kind were wicked strong and lived tens, if not thousands, of times longer than humans. His lovers could number in the six digits. Stood to reason many of them were more experienced than her…statistically speaking. And the females of his kind would be able to take his might. Match it, even. He’d had to hold back for her.
Would he even remember this night a hundred years from now?
Trying to shake her torturous thoughts, she wrapped herself in the fleece blanket from the sofa, then stormed back into the now-empty bathroom and grabbed the rest of her still-wet clothes.
Without meaning to, she glanced at the spot where Orik had bent her over. She rubbed the tender flesh of her ass, marveling at how high she recalled lifting it in offering. She shivered at the remembrance. Then the wordniceechoed in her mind once more.
“Bastard.”
Sulking and self-conscious, she returned to the living room and spread out her wet clothing in front of the fire to dry, then curled up on the soft sofa, suddenly feeling exhausted. Dull twinges blotted her muscles, as though she’d worked out too hard, but it wasn’t unpleasant.
Orik appear in her line of sight wearing a pair of loose pants and nothing else, his proportions infuriatingly godlike. Light from the fire caressed his brawny shoulders and abs, gilding him in liquid gold. His pants hung low on his hips, blessing her with the titillating view of that sculpted abdominal V some men develop, like an arrow with a sign flashing, “This way for a good time.” She suppressed a sigh.Or rather, for anicetime.
Somehow she managed to drag her gaze from his rugged torso to his glowering face. His furrowed brow said he wasn’t finished with their argument, but after opening and closing his mouth several times, he merely murmured, “Are you hungry?”
Shifting her gaze to the fire, she shrugged, even as her betraying stomach grumbled.
“Fine.” He gruffly marched over to the kitchenette and started banging cupboards open and rummaging through supplies. “You’ll find dry clothes in the bedroom closet.”
“Okay, thanks,” she replied robotically. Pulling the blanket tighter around her, she crossed to reenter the bedroom. His rummaging briefly paused, and she could practically feel his piercing gaze on her. As soon as she was out of his sight, he resumed his assault on the kitchen. She heard the clicking ignition of a stove burner and a pan drop on top of it. So grumpy for someone who’d just got his rocks off. After sex, she was used to snuggling up to lethargically satisfied lovers, not disappointed beasts. But she supposed she hadn’t givenhimmuch of a workout.
God, that stings.
Blissfully, the walk-in closet was filled with functional clothes rather than evening gowns: hiking boots, jeans, sweaters, coats—both men’s and women’s. Curious if any of the boots fit her, she slipped on an appealing black pair. They were big at first, but then, to her amazement, they mystically adjusted to fit her size.
What the…?
She yanked them off and put them back, eyeing them with suspicion. Orik continued to make a ruckus in the kitchen.
After rifling through racks, she came across a row of sexy nightgowns that could have been yanked straight from a lingerie magazine. She contemplated them for a moment, then decided to put on a simple red tank and matching shorts, both made of fabric that brushed against her skin like silk. Briefly she wondered what Orik would think of her in it, and briefly eyed the lingerie again.Why not stick with what I like?It wouldn’t matter either way.
Still, a skitter of nervous energy flounced in her belly as she made her way back to the main room. Orik was pouring something from a canister into a pot of boiling water. He spared her a glance, then did a double take. He slowly took her in, gaze moving down the line of her body and back. She blushed. He cursed when the water began boiling over and rushed to lower the heat.
She suppressed a smirk and crossed to the counter, taking a stool opposite from where he worked. He was focusing extra hard on his task now, stirring the pot with a long wooden spoon. Stir, stir, stir. So intent. An excuse not to look at her again?
Yet, his aura betrayed him. It sizzled and sparked and flared. Electrified. If she could touch it, would it nip her like a current?
Perhaps she hadn’t rocked his world, but he was still wildly attracted to her, which vastly improved her own mood because he had the gall to look like a sexy chef, cooking with his chest bare and making her mouth water for anything but food.Next time I’m going to climb that man like a redwood.
And therewouldbe a next time, if she had anything to say about it.
