Page 15 of Vengeful Embers

And while I know I’ll probably never see Damien again, I also know that he won’t be someone I’ll ever forget because tonight, I’m not the girl who follows the rules, and Damien was the one who helped me shed the old Tara. The goody-two-shoes who haughtily shied away from meetings like these. I know that I’m no longer the woman I was before, now I’m the woman who said yes to a stranger, and has no intention of stopping the transformation taking place inside me.

5

RUSLAN (DAMIEN)

Tara is asleep in my arms, her breathing slow and even. One leg slung over mine, her bare skin warm against my chest, her hair a dark spill over the pillow. Her scent is everywhere—on my skin, in the sheets, embedded in my lungs. I stare at the ceiling, wide awake, pulse still thumping like a war drum.

I should be thinking of my exit. My next move. My mission. But all I can do is replay the last few hours.

She was fucking radiant tonight. Sitting at that bar, back straight, legs crossed, lips wrapped around the rim of a wine glass like she owned the place. Her dress hugged her like a second skin, her curves poured into it like sin made flesh.

I’d seen powerful women, beautiful women. But Tara Craft walked into that lounge and knocked the air right out of my lungs.

And I hadn’t even touched her yet.

My arm tightens around her without meaning to. I don’t want her to leave. The thought of her walking out that door makes something primal rise in my chest—and that is dangerous.

I try to shove it down. I don’t need this, or the way she’s blindsided me.

Then she stirs. Rolls onto her side, her ass pressing into my thigh and I turn on my side as she snuggles into me. I run my hand over her breasts. She stirs, tries to roll away, but I pull her back, trailing my hand over her stomach, down her thigh and my fingers slide into her pussy still slick and her clit swollen. Her body arches, reacting even before her mind, and I feel her gasp.

I press my lips to the back of her neck. She sighs, tilting her hips, her ass nudging my cock. Her back curves and presses into my chest. When I circle her nipple with my thumb, her breathing shudders. She’s waking up, and the way she melts against me, even in that hazy place between sleep and not, fires a deep and primal heat.

“Hello, beautiful,” I whisper against her ear.

Tara’s eyes remain closed, but her lips pull into a sleepy smile.

“Mmm,” she breathes. “I had dreams about you.” Her body is soft and sleepy in my arms. She shifts against my thigh, making sure I know exactly how slick she is. “A blue-eyed devil. Dangerous and with an insatiable appetite.” She exhales, barely a sigh, but I hear the shiver in it.

I chuckle against her skin and wrap an arm tighter around her. “Is that a complaint?”

Her eyelids flutter, half-lidded but glowing with amusement.

“Oh, not even a little.” She reaches back with one hand, wraps her fingers around my cock, squeezes gently. “I see he’s fully recovered.”

Her touch finds me urgent and impatient. My breathing thickens, chest tight with want as her fingers move with intention. She is skilled and sure, my head spinning from the sensation of being at her mercy. I clutch her hips, growl, and move her slightly. Before she takes her next breath, I’m inside her, hard and aching for release. She gasps, gives in to me with a moan, and the hunger takes over. Each thrust has her crying out and wanting me deeper. I pull out of her.

“No!” Tara’s plea is desperate, but my hands guide her onto her hands and knees. She lowers her torso against the mattress her ass raised as I plunge back into her and she cries out once again at the impact. I start to thrust, each one driving into her harder, deeper. Tara’s body moves to meet each one, her body wrapped so perfectly around mine. She breaks first, shuddering as her pussy clamps around my cock and she cries out.

“Oh, fuck, Damien!”

I’m close behind, almost lost and one last thrust of my cock into her pulsing pussy and I spill my seed deep inside her, a guttural groan ripping from my mouth.

Not wanting to fall on top of her, I pull out, grab her, and turn her around, collapsing us against the bed. We lie there panting, hearts slamming, limbs tangled, nothing separating us. I catch my breath and kiss her head. Her scent, her warmth, her body locked with mine—it stirs something dangerously possessive, and I have to focus on my breathing. Her pulse calms beneath my palm, and I feel her breathing even out. Her cheek is against my chest now, damp and flushed. She makes a contented sound, part exhale, part satisfied sigh.

Then her voice, quiet and sweet, whispers words that jolt me. “I should go.” She doesn’t move, her cheek still pressed to me, her body tucked in. “It’s getting late.”

I close my hand over hers, my grip tender but not willing to let go.

“Stay until the morning light breaks through,” I say, a soft command in my tone. “I’m leaving at noon. I want more time with you.” I know the power this offer holds, and I don’t have to wait long.

She smiles, slow and beautiful, nuzzles against my chest, making herself comfortable. “More time?” she whispers, thoughtfully.

“I promise, you won’t regret it.” I kiss her neck and move to her lips.

“How can I say no to that?” Tara says, smiling against my lips before pulling back slightly. “But I need a shower.”

I push myself up, lift her in one swift motion, her bare skin still slick against mine as I carry her to the bathroom. She laughs, the sound breathless, her hair a wild halo around her face. I set her down gently, the luxury tile cool beneath her bare feet.

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