Sins of the Flesh

“How about two dozen dinners? Three? I could have dated you for a year and still not known you at all. You’d have shown me only your smooth, tranquil mask and nothing more.”


She had nothing to say to that because it was only the truth. He had learned a great deal about her in a very short time. But what had she learned of him? She hadn’t had the same access to his thoughts and deepest emotions, to the shaping events of his life.

Did she want to have access to them? Did she want to know him on that level?

“This is about sex, Mal. Nothing more.” But even as she said it, she didn’t quite believe it. She took a deep breath and forced the words out in a rush. “This is about me feeling tense and a little out of control and wanting to blow off steam, no questions, no strings.”

“No connection other than the physical, right? No commitment.”

“Yes.” She exhaled in relief as she saw he understood. “Exactly.”

His eyes glittered. His teeth flashed. “Calli, you’re a lousy liar.”

His stomach rumbled, and he changed the subject, just like that, offering her no chance to argue. “I need food.”

Of course he did.

Never breaking the contact of his body with hers, he rose and lifted her against his chest. With a laughing gasp, she clamped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck. He slid his hands under her naked buttocks, balancing her as he walked toward the kitchen.

“Nice position,” he said. “Has possibilities.”

With one hand supporting her weight, he used the other to open the first cupboard he came to then close it with a soft grunt when all he found were dishes. He opened a second cupboard and said, “Perfect.”

To her astonishment, he uncapped and upended the squeeze bottle of honey, tipped his head back and squirted a mouthful.

“That’s gross.”

He swallowed, licked his lips then pressed them against hers for a kiss. He was sticky and sweet, and she opened her mouth to taste him.

Maybe not so gross after all.

“Two birds with one stone,” he murmured and tipped her back onto the kitchen counter as he poured a stream of honey down her chest, across her breasts then down to her belly. “I need sugar. And I want you.” His brows rose and fell. “This works.”

Dipping his head, he licked honey off her chest, the rasp of his tongue both ticklish and erotic.

“Mmm… You are absolutely delicious,” he said against her skin.

Again, her emotions surged in an unpredictable wave. She pulled back and locked down, making the silent assumption that he wouldn’t notice.

Wrong assumption. His expression grew serious.

“Don’t like honey? We can play a different game.”

“A different—” Words failed her. She just pressed her lips together and shook her head quickly from side to side.

“What?” he asked, looking genuinely alarmed. “Did I hurt you? Are you sore?”

“No. No.” She reached up to splay her fingers across his chest. Only in that moment did she realize that he was still fully clothed. His shirt was on. His jeans were on. Only the button and fly were undone, the waistband hanging low on his hips to bare his erection.

And she was naked, spread out on the kitchen counter like a banquet.

“I’ve just never—” She met his gaze, silver and bright and so focused on her it was as if she was the only thing in the world that mattered to him in that moment. “I’ve never done this just for fun.” Or because she cared about someone and wanted to share herself with them.

“Never…” His eyes widened as he caught her meaning, that she’d used sex as a means to control the power of the prana she took when she fed. “You’ve never made love just for pleasure.”

Her breath caught at his choice of words. “I’ve never made love,” she corrected softly. She’d had clinical, emotionless sex out of necessity.

Until now. Until him.

He leaned in and kissed her, soft and tender and sweet. “You have now,” he whispered. “And you’re about to again.”

He licked the honey from her breasts, taking his time, making her gasp and clutch at his hair to hold him close. He pulled off his shirt and his jeans and poured more honey, this time on his own skin. And she tasted him, his chest, his taut belly, his erect penis, thick and full.

Then he was the one leaning back against the kitchen counter as she went to her knees and teased him, taking him into her mouth and reveling in the sounds he made, low in his throat. She raked the length of him with her teeth, loving the way he groaned and pumped his hips.

She took him deeper than she had before and sucked hard.

With a growl, he dragged her up and sat her on the cold granite. He pushed her legs apart and thrust deep inside her, his fingers clever and slick on her clitoris, until she threw her head back and screamed her release.

His hips jerked, and he made a raw, dark sound of unfettered pleasure, his body shaking with his climax.

And then he kissed her, his mouth soft on hers.

She had the crazy thought that it wasn’t just a kiss, but a promise.