Page 46 of A Game of Love and Betrayal

She exhaled a shaky breath, and her heart raced. Her fingers gripped the sheets. “And what do you think now?”

His lips skimmed her back, settling in that spot where her shoulder blades came together. “I think my dreams didn’t do you justice.”

His hand landed on her hip, grounding her and holding her still as his mouth trailed down her back. Everywhere he touched felt like it was on fire.

Brynleigh had had her fair share of sexual partners before, but none of them had ever made her feel like this. Flames licked her insides, warming her always-cold veins. Her fangs throbbed. Unbidden, a deep-set need rose within her. To bite. To feed. Not to inflict pain but to share pleasure.

Fuck, she wanted more.

She needed it.

Moaning, Brynleigh’s head landed on his shoulder, and her eyes fell shut.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he said encouragingly, nibbling on her ear. “Let me take care of you.”

Brynleigh probably should’ve fought him more. She should’ve tried to push past the fog and remember his name. Maybe if she’d wondered why she knew his voice but didn’t know what he looked like, she would’ve realized this was a bad idea.

Except, she didn’t care. If this man, whoever he was, made her feel safe, she would revel in that feeling for as long as it lasted.

Brynleigh nodded. Keeping her eyes closed, she inhaled deeply. He smelled of thunderstorms and bergamot, and the scent only made her fangs hurt even more.

She wanted to bite and taste him like he’d tasted her, but something told her doing that would bring this all to a sudden end.

She really didn’t want to do that.

His hand tightened on her hip, his grip firm but not bruising. He kissed her ear gently as his other hand slid down her side. His touch was gentle but firm as he reached the hem of her slip and slowly dragged the material up. He exposed the swell of her ass, brushing his knuckles over her bottom.

She shivered, the action having nothing to do with the cold.

He froze, his voice a rasping caress as he breathed, “Is this alright?”

“Yes,” she half-pleaded, half moaned. “Please touch me.”

They’d already started. Why stop now?

A familiar low chuckle rumbled through him as his hand slipped beneath her, reaching for her core. His fingers grazed her inner thighs, brushing the lace of her undergarments.

His touch was all too brief as he teased her.

His fingers danced close—so gods-damned close—to her intimate flesh, but not quite there. Tracing the edges of her underwear, he explored her slowly as though mapping out every part of her.

She rubbed against him, trying to get him where she needed him the most. If she knew his name, it would be on her lips.

“More,” she whispered, not caring that she was close to begging this unknown man for everything.

His lips found her throat, and he nipped her. Heat coursed through her, and she moaned.

“More, what? I need to hear you say it, sweetheart.”

Isvana have mercy on her, but her heart raced at his demand. She loved the way he was taking control.

Swallowing, she forced her mind to focus. “Touch me,” she requested. “I need to feel your hands on me. In me.”

“Thank fuck,” he groaned.

He didn’t make her wait. Pushing aside the lace, he exhaled gruffly as he touched her. “Gods, you’re so wet. Is this for me?”

“Yes.” She didn’t know how she came to this conclusion. His name was a mystery, as was his face, but the ache in her core was for him as much as his presence was her haven.

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