Hell, he’d be willing to make an exception with the right woman, but an Aegi killer wasn’t the right woman, no matter how much his throbbing cock argued that she was.
“Doc.”
Tayla was looking at him, her eyes glittering with a combination of determination and lust so potent that he drew a startled breath. Her hand came up, grasped a handful of his hair near the nape, and pulled his head down with such force that he barely had time to brace his hands on either side of her head before his mouth came down hard on hers.
Her tongue pushed past his lips to tangle with his, and he growled at the taste of her. Her flavor was bold and wicked, like the scent of her lust, but beneath it all lurked a faint sweetness, as though innocence had been buried.
Buried under the corpses of his brethren she’d killed, most likely.
An icy blast speared his chest and he reared back, his control balancing on a scalpel’s edge. This was his greatest fear, the loss of restraint as The Change took him—the s’genesis had to be the reason he was on the verge of mounting the enemy like a beast in rut.
But when her hand brushed his shaft, the beast suddenly didn’t care who she was or what she’d done. He was a Seminus demon, after all, a breed of incubi that lived for sex, existed to deceive and cause misery through intimate means once the s’genesis was complete. Perhaps now wasn’t the time to fight his nature. Perhaps his nature was his weapon against an age-old enemy.
Her fingers closed around his sex through his scrub pants, and fuck, he was tired of analyzing his body, his emotions, and his instincts. It was time to just feel.
He rocked his hips into her touch as desire rocked the rest of his body.
“Please,” she begged against his lips, “please. Touch me.”
Groaning, he dropped a hand down to one hip and lifted her so that his erection nudged her other hip.
So much for remaining professional.
Never had Tayla dreamed anything like this. It had to be a dream, because she’d never been this turned on in real life. And she’d certainly never hoped to get it on with a doctor. Especially not a doctor as totally mouthwatering as the one who was kissing her blind and stroking her hip so masterfully that some women would already have come a dozen times from that alone.
She lifted her knees, hooked one leg around his waist. The move knocked him off-balance, and he grunted as he brought a leg up on the bed to brace himself.
“Shit.” Doc Hottie dragged his mouth away from hers. “Tayla, are you awake?”
“Shut up and let me have this,” she muttered, and tugged on the waistband of his scrubs.
He hissed when she grasped his erection. Oh, my. She measured his length and thickness with her fingers, and for a moment she wondered if there would be any pain when he entered her, but then she remembered that this was a dream, and nothing hurt in a dream.
“Tayla,” he whispered against her neck, “you’re injured. We have to be caref—”
She squeezed his shaft, and his words cut off with a strangled moan. Slowly, she stroked, rubbed her palm over the velvety head and then took him in her fist again. His ragged, sharp breaths feathered over her skin as she worked him, and when she trailed a fingertip through the drop of moisture that welled at the tip of his cock, something seemed to break inside him. The wall that had restrained him crumbled, and suddenly his hands were everywhere at once, his mouth devouring her cheekbone, her jaw, her throat.
Intense hunger, as though she’d suffered years of famine, rushed through her veins at the way his hand caressed her flesh. He skimmed over places she thought might hurt, but the memories danced at the edge of her mind, shimmering away altogether when the doctor’s tongue traced a wet circle on her neck.
His decadent touch strayed lower, over her thigh and between her legs, where he languidly, maddeningly, stroked the crease of her leg and her sex. She arched against his hand, needing his touch in the right place, but he didn’t comply, his torture deliberate. Devious. Delicious.
She wanted to see his eyes, but he’d buried his face in her throat as he nuzzled her skin, worked lower to her collarbone, nipped lightly there. Threading her fingers through his dark hair, she held him against her, reveling in his touch, in the feel of a man worshipping her flesh, if only in a dream.
Here, in a sleeping world of fantasy, perhaps she’d find the pleasure that had always eluded her in real-life sexual encounters. Here, her past didn’t matter. Her fears held no sway.
The deft touch of the man on top of her was her whole world in her dream, and when his fingers moved to trace the hills and valleys of her swollen sex through her panties, she welcomed the hot tingle of excitement that buzzed through her.