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How gentle he could be with me. How gently deceptive, too.
From the corner of my eye, I caught sight of the letter opener.
I could reach for it. Stab him now, unsuspectingly. Watch the blood run from his body.
I could end all of this. The conflict. The torment. The pain in my heart.
But suddenly, fighting Draven was the last thing I wanted to do.
I was fighting myself instead... and it was a fast-losing battle. I knew I wasn't being rational. Wasn't being intellectual. Wasn't being at all wise.
Nothing good could come of this.
But he was stepping closer, gazing down at my naked body as if it was the most jaw-droppingly gorgeous thing he'd ever seen. He was so near now I could see the black stubble on his jaw. I was light-headed, giddy, drunk with my proximity to him, and oh, fuck, I wanted this so badly. Too badly to try very hard to resist.
He leaned over me, and I tried not to flinch. Then he opened his mouth and flicked his tongue slowly over one of my breasts, trailing it over my nipple, down over the soft swelling curve, to my ribs, then down my belly all the way to my navel.
I let out a shaky gasp.
“This is a very bad idea,” he said again, almost conversationally, barely lifting his lips from my stomach. I watched his eyes roam up the hills and valleys of my body. “But hell if I’m going to stop now.”
“We definitely should stop,” I breathed. The words were teasingly torturous as they rolled off my tongue.
“We should. We absolutely should. Tell me to stop.” He licked lower down, past my navel and over the curve of one hip.
I knew what he’d find if he descended any lower with that hot, wicked mouth of his. Part of me was nervous at the very idea of his mouth there. And part of me was aching for him to find out just how wet I already was for him.
“I... can’t,” I gasped, as his mouth trailed still lower, while one of his hands began playing with my breasts. “I can’t do that.”
Somehow my hands had become tangled in his hair. It was so thick and so soft. Softer than someone as tough as Draven had any right to be.
“What are you d-doing?” I managed to get out.
His head was hovering over my hips now, his breath hot between my thighs.
“Wouldn’t you like to find out?” His voice was deep and gravelly. My nipples puckered into even tighter buds just hearing it.
“Now be a good girl,” he murmured, as his hands came down to caress my thighs.
I glanced one last time at the letter opener, almost longingly. We were both being driven by sheer lust, pushed to the brink by all that we’d been through.
We were poised on the edge. I knew soon there’d be no going back.
In some ways, stabbing him would have been easier.
“Get your eyes off that letter opener, Morgan. We both know you’re not going to use it,” he murmured. “Especially now.”
“Now?”
He slides his hand between my legs and I let out a gasp, my hips arching up against him.
“Do you taste as good as you feel? You’re beautiful, Morgan. Just fucking look at you, lying there naked and bare. You’re spectacular. I bet you taste as good as you look.” He stroked his thumb slowly against my clit and I groaned, grasping the bedcovers with my hands. “And I bet you taste as good as you feel, so soft and wet.”
He stroked my clit again with those hard, strong fingers and I let out another cry, feeling myself running up against a wall of pure bliss.
“Not yet,” Draven murmured, the words gentle and lazy. “Not yet. Be a good girl and wait.”
And then he smirked up at me, raised a hand to his lips and licked it.
