Archangel's Shadows (Guild Hunter series Book 7)

Her man.

He’d kissed her with a half smile, half laugh on his face and it felt like sunshine in her blood. Licking and tasting him, as he did her in turn, she bit down on his lower lip. “How am I doing?”

“You need lots of practice.” A glint in his eye. “On me. I insist.”

She bit him again for that, before sucking his lip and flicking her tongue over the sensual punishment. “Don’t complain if I wear you out, then.” Returning to the kiss with a smile that echoed his, she drank in the taste of him. “I like kissing you, cuddlebunny.”

His shoulders shook. Scraping his fangs lightly over her lips, he slid his hands down to cup her ass. “I acquiesce to being your cuddlebunny, if you’ll meet my terms. They involve naked cuddling and blood.”

“Done.” Laughing, she just drank in his smile, and then they were kissing again. Their breaths grew shorter, his body harder, hotter. Skin burning under her touch, he shrugged off his jacket to drop it to the floor. Ashwini ran her hands up his back, over the leather of the holster. “Knives,” she murmured, kissing his jaw, his throat.

Janvier’s muscles shifted, his arms crossing over his back. The slide of blade against scabbard and then the thump of two blades being embedded into the walls on either side of her head. She laughed softly. “You’re fixing the holes.”

“It will be my pleasure.” He busied himself kissing her neck as she undid the strap across his chest and pushed the holster off his muscular shoulders. Sometimes, she forgot how strong he was, but it was impossible to do that with him so close, his muscles fluid beneath his skin.

The holster and scabbards hit the carpet with a dull thud.

Sucking on her neck, Janvier pushed off and reached for the gun she wore in the thigh holster. “Will you shoot me if I touch your gun?”

“Not today.”

Deep male laughter, his cheeks creasing beautifully. Unable to resist, she pulled him back to her mouth and demanded another kiss. He gave it to her, but then broke off. “I do not intend to get accidentally shot in the family jewels, cher.”

“No, that would be a shame.” She tugged up his T-shirt and slid her hands over the hard ridges of his abdomen.

“That is not helping.” He groaned but managed to get the gun out of the holster. Making sure the safety was on, he put it on the entranceway table.

“Nuh-uh.” She pushed at him. “Not here.”

Instead of complaining, he let her go and used the chance to rip off his T-shirt. By the time she made it to the bedroom and put the gun on the bedside table, he’d shucked his boots and socks and was working on undoing his belt, having left a trail of discarded items behind him as he followed her. Her mouth watered. God, he was sexy with his hair all mussed up and his lips wet from her kisses, his body bared for her eyes only.

Pulling the belt out of its loops, he dropped it to the floor.

She walked over, put her hands on his hips, then slid down to press her lips to his navel, just above the button he’d flicked open on his jeans.

He said words she didn’t know in his native tongue, thrust his hand into her hair, and shuddered. “You cannot do that, sugar. Or I will embarrass myself.”

Rising slowly, kiss by kiss, she met his mouth with her own. He hauled her close, his erection pushing demandingly against her abdomen and his body heat a pulse. She ran her hands over him, loving the feel of him, the scent of him. He smelled . . . of Janvier. Masculine and hot and just Janvier.

When she reached down and stroked him through his jeans, he broke the kiss to press his forehead to hers, his breathing strained. “Ashwini.” A hoarse whisper. “I have no defenses against you.”

Seduced, intoxicated, she tugged down the zipper, wanting to feel him in her hand, to pleasure him as he did her with his every touch. “You’re not wearing underwear.” She used her teeth to tug on the lobe of his ear. “I should’ve known.”

Gripping the back of her neck, he kissed her again as she closed her fingers around the thick heat of his erection. His cock felt like iron, but his skin there, it was so delicate, so fine. Fascinated, her own pulse a hammer and her blood so scalding it was near ignition, she stroked gently to the tip, felt the wetness there. Her next stroke slicked that bead of wetness over him, turned his body even more rigid.

“Harder.” It was a harsh murmur against her ear.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”