“I wouldn’t stop there.” His lips skimmed her ear. A shiver went through her, and heat licked between her legs. “I’d drop one hand to your waist, but I don’t know if I could be patient enough to unbutton your pants, or if I’d just rip them open. Either way, I’d get in. I’d find that sweet place between your legs with my fingers, and I’d play until we were both panting. You’d be wet and ready for me when I dropped to my knees and replaced my hand with my mouth.”
She made a noise, something between a squeak and a moan as she pictured everything he was saying. No one had ever spoken to her like this, and the thrill shot straight to her core, which was going wet for him just as he’d said.
“Please…” She trailed off, unsure if she was begging for him to stop talking like that or to continue, because her mind had gone fuzzy and her body had gone liquid. But it was time to turn the tables.
Hooking her leg around his calf, she tugged while pushing against his chest. The unexpected movement caught him off guard, and she spun him around, easily putting his back into the wall—though she got the impression that he could have stopped her if he’d wanted to. His breathing was steady and even, while she was struggling for each breath. She’d almost think he was completely unaffected by the searing sexual tension between them, but his gaze was sleepy, heavy-lidded, and when she dropped her eyes, she saw the impressive evidence of his arousal behind the fly of his jeans.
“Look,” she croaked, “this has to stop. You might have stepped out of the pages of Playgirl, but I can resist even you—”
Josh drew her hard against him and kissed her again, a possessive, yet gentle meeting of lips that once again left her breathless and reeling. He thrust his muscular thigh between hers. His hands dropped to her hips, and he held her steady as he rocked his leg against her.
The pressure was incredible, and she knew without a doubt that she could come like this. Easily. Maybe she should. The pleasure streaking upward from her core was overwhelming, and she was arching into him all by herself now, taking what she wanted…
He ended it. He broke off the kiss and just watched her with that damned cocky lift to his mouth. “What was that about resistance?”
Unquenched desire and irritation at both his arrogance and her own weakness tangled up into a knot of fury.
“Give me the key,” she snapped.
He waggled his brows. “Come to my room and get it.”
“What part of celibate are you unclear on? I will not change my mind. I will never change my mind.” She stepped back so she didn’t have to crane her neck to look at him. “Don’t think you can blackmail me into sleeping with you for the key, because I promise you it won’t happen.”
“I know it won’t happen,” he said, taking her hand and bringing it to his lips, where he nipped the pad of her finger. “But we can do other things. And I want to do other things. Make no mistake about that. As far as the artifact is concerned, you want it, you let me tag along.”
Outraged by his manipulation, she jerked her hand away. “Fine. You can come with me. But the rest? You couldn’t handle other things with me. Guy like you, settling for heavy petting? Please.”
It was the wrong thing to say, because the erotic light in his eyes became something hotter and more intense… the light of challenge, of battle.
She’d just thrown down the gauntlet, and suddenly she was afraid that of the two of them, she’d be the one to break.
As Wraith watched Serena flee down the hall, his body buzzed like he’d eaten a junkie, only this was way better. This was like the really good shit running through a Wall Street executive or a Hollywood star’s veins. So, yeah, better… and worse. Because he wasn’t going to be able to satisfy his body’s needs. Not yet. What he’d assumed would be a smash and grab with Serena was turning out to be anything but. Although she sure as hell seemed to be affected by the incubus fuck-me pheromones that came standard-issue in his species, he had a feeling the poison was affecting their potency. Which sucked
On the other hand, the toxin was also allowing him to get turned on without feeling the irreversible, driving need to have sex or suffer, which was always a concern for his breed. Seminus demons couldn’t relieve their lust by their own hand, and once they were aroused, their lust had to be slaked, or they’d suffer intense agony or even death.
Gods, she had fire. Fire and fight and she might very well be his match in every way. But his life was on the line, and he was going to fight until he won. Her resolve was strong, but with the Grim Reaper—or one of his griminions—on his heels, Wraith’s resolve was just as strong. And right now, he had to make sure she believed he could be with her because he wanted to be with her, not because he wanted to pop her cherry.
Still, it was becoming clear that being sweet and charming wasn’t going to work, not only because it just wasn’t him, but because she didn’t believe he was a choir boy. He’d have to be himself as much as possible if he wanted to have a shot in hell of seducing her.