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I tried to pull my wrists free, to pull his mouth to my breasts, but he tightened his grip.
“You do, don’t you?” His voice was a wicked rasp.
“Yes.” This time I managed to say it aloud.
“Poor princess. Maybe I can do something about that.” He nuzzled my cleavage. His cheeks were sandpaper-rough with black stubble. The prickle against my tender skin sent an answering tingle through my blood, made heat flare deep in my belly.
He kissed the top of my left breast, then nipped the same spot with sharp fangs, and Holy Dark Lady, I liked it.
I gasped and clenched my inner thighs around his fingers. So that’s why thralls got addicted to a vampire’s bite. Even though he hadn’t taken any blood, that hint of pleasure/pain sent a dark thrill shooting through me.
He lifted his head and stared at me unsmiling, his cheekbones flushed with arousal. A hot blue halo encircled the iris, his vampire in control now.
Still holding my wrists, he yanked my panties down my hips and gazed down at where I was bared to him.
A beat passed. Two beats. Three.
I couldn’t see myself—not with my back arched—but I felt exposed and even more turned-on. He so clearly liked what he saw.
His gaze came back to my face. A corner of his mouth tipped up. “Breathe, cher.”
Shocked, I realized I was holding my breath, that I had been for a while. Even a vampire needs to breathe every twenty seconds or so. Maybe that’s why my head was swimming.
But the jagged breath I gulped did nothing to help.
Rafe stroked his free hand down my bare ass, over my hips. “You have the most incredible legs.” His gaze followed his hand past the panties bunched up around my upper legs and back up along my inner thighs. “I’ve spent way too much time thinking about what they’d feel like wrapped around me while I was buried deep inside you. Or how they’d look if I bent you over…maybe over that stool.” He nodded at the vanity.
A zing skipped up my spine, like he’d tripped a finger up the vertebrae. I could picture myself bent over the vanity stool, unable to touch him, while he could touch me any way or anywhere he wanted.
“Would you like that?” he said in my ear. “I think you would. Me thrusting into you from behind. I could watch you in the mirror as you come. You could watch yourself…”
“Yes,” I breathed.
His fingers were back on my sex again. I instinctively widened my legs as much as the panties would allow. “Yes, what?”
“Yes,” I said more loudly. “I’d like that.”
Because that picture he’d created in my head? It was the hottest thing.
How did the man read me like that? It was as if he could hear my thoughts, which I knew was impossible. Then I remembered how many women he’d had. If you believed Instagram and the tabloids, the man was as randy as a tomcat.
It’s just sex to him, Zoe.
I told myself that was all it was to me, too. Because that was all it could be. A fleeting moment in my life before I was bound to another man forever.
“But you’re new at this—maybe I’m going too fast for you. You are new, aren’t you?” He toyed with my clit. A sensual smile played on his lips, but his eyes narrowed. “Did you fuck anyone since me?”
“No. Not anyone. Ever,” I tacked on as if he couldn’t figure that out for himself.
A husky growl. “Ever?”
I shrugged a shoulder. “Haven’t been interested.”
They weren’t you.
“Your first. I shouldn’t find that a turn-on, but I do.” He did something with his fingertip that made me gasp. “Guess I’m more of a caveman than I realized.”
I barely heard, my attention on the erotic sensations his fingers were drawing from me.
