Ashayla had to wrench her gaze away from him. All she wanted to do was lie down next to him again and feel his strong arms wrapped around her.
She wanted to feel that large, powerful body pressed against the length of her as he thrust inside her, filling the hot ache that hadn’t abated since their kiss.
No, it had only intensified the longer she was with him. Near enough to touch. Near enough to inhale his unearthly scent of spice and power and sin. All of which made her hungry to taste him.
As if he followed the line of her thinking, he made a deep, raw sound in the back of his throat. Ashayla licked her lips, and he was in motion even faster than she could register his movements.
He pulled her back down onto the bed beside him, at the same time smoothly rolling himself up onto his arms so he was covering her. Face to face. His warm, solid chest against her soft, sensitive breasts. His heavy hips pressing into the tops of her thighs. She felt his rigid cock too, the searing, powerful length of it nestled against her mound.
Ashayla panted beneath his weight, beneath the blazing intensity of his heavy-lidded gaze. Her pulse banged against her ribcage, not out of fear or resistance, but out of complete and consuming need.
Without warning, he bent down and took her mouth in a fierce, hot kiss. His tongue pushed past her lips on a moan, sweeping inside to tangle with hers. Lust ignited inside her like a wildfire, singeing all of her nerve endings. While lower, all she knew was a wet, demanding ache to be filled by this man. This Incubus. This incredible male.
He released her mouth on a snarled curse, looming above her like the demon he was.
God, he was so handsome. So heartbreakingly, hellishly beautiful. And he was hers.
In that moment, with nothing but heated, naked skin between them, Sorin, the forbidding Master of Ebarron, belonged to her.
As she belonged to him.
“Say it,” he rasped. “I need to hear the words, Asha.”
She closed her eyes, tried to look away so he wouldn’t see how raw her need was, but he brought her gaze back to him with his fingers resting gently below her chin.
“You know our deal, Asha. Tell me you want this—that you want me inside you—or push me away now.”
“Sorin…” She could do neither. What little resistance she’d had was long since evaporated. But her determination to make it through the night without giving in to him, without losing their damnable wager, kept the truth from falling off her tongue.
She wanted this, yes.
She wanted him inside her so keenly it hurt.
But the price was too high. His price, the one he placed on their time together. She knew she was as much to blame for where they had ended up now. After all, she’d been the one to seek him out with the intent to take what he hadn’t been willing to give her.
Part of her wished he would use his Incubus allure to put her under his thrall. At least then she’d have someplace to hang her guilt when she returned to Gran empty-handed.
But Sorin was more honorable than that. If she’d doubted it at any time tonight, she saw him demonstrate that honor now, in the way he held her so tenderly, patiently, even while his entire body was hard and straining with lust.
“Say it,” he whispered fiercely, his lips brushing against hers as he spoke. His mouth trailed down her chin, then along the sensitive line of her jaw, sending electricity arcing into her veins. His breath skated against the shell of her ear. “Give me the words, Asha. Leave neither of us any room for doubt.”
Oh, God, she couldn’t take the yearning.
She couldn’t walk away from this moment, or from how he made her feel.
Nor would she lie to him by pretending she could deny what was happening between them now.
“Yes,” she gasped. Then took a breath and pushed the words out again. “Sorin, yes…I want this. I want you. I need you…inside me.”
Triumph flashed across his face like lightning—quicksilver, white-hot. Jagged and powerful.
Then, on a savage curse, his mouth crushed down on hers.
CHAPTER NINE
He didn’t realize how thorough Ashayla’s conquest of him was until he’d been holding her in shaking arms, demanding her submission. Christ, pleading for it.
When she said the words out loud—that sweet, breathless admission that she wanted him, needed him inside her—Sorin nearly roared his pleasure.
Claiming her mouth with his, he let his passion for her take the reins.
He shifted his weight off her so he could let his hands roam freely over her warm, creamy skin. From her delicate throat to the hard-peaked nipples of her sumptuous breasts. Then down the soft plane of her abdomen to the tantalizing rise of her mound and its trim little nest of gossamer curls.