Page 122 of Terror at the Gates

“What do you want?”

This motherfucker, I thought.

“You aren’t brave enough to give me what I want,” I said.

My voice was quiet, a warm whisper between us. I let my eyes leave his, following the lines of the tattoos on his neck until they disappeared beneath his collar. I decided I wanted to see them all and started undoing the buttons of his shirt.

He didn’t stop me as I neared the bottom and shifted back, inhaling as I settled over his prominent arousal. His hands were still on my thighs, his fingers pressing harderinto my skin.

“Lilith.”

There was a rough edge to the way Zahariev said my name. I kept my eyes closed as a violent desire twisted through me and exhaled slowly.

“Hmm?”

His hand curled around my wrist, the uninjured one, and I met his gaze. His jaw was tight, his pupils blown.

“What do you want?” he repeated.

“Do you really want to know?” I asked as I stretched over him, my lips hovering a breath away from his before whispering, “Kiss me, Zahariev.”

I held my breath, waiting for him tosaysomething, todoanything.

But he didn’t.

All I could manage was a hollow laugh.

“I knew it.” I’d hoped to sound teasing instead of hurt, but I couldn’t hide the inflection in my voice as I tried to pull away.

Then Zahariev’s hands splayed across my waist, shifting to my ass as he sat up, holding me tight against his cock. I wrapped my arms around his neck. For once, he had to tilt his head back to look at me, but his burning gaze fell to my parted lips, and then he kissed me.

To say I wasn’t prepared for the way he would feel against me was an understatement. I expected him to end this before it really began, except he didn’t. He kissed me like he owned me, something I’d never wanted before but suddenly realized I could live with, especially if it meant feeling like this every second of every day—high out of my fucking mind, on fire from the inside out, and not a single goddamn drug in my system.

Maybe I was just desperate, or maybe for once in mylife, my desire wasn’t overshadowed by the feel of another’s.

His tongue slid over the curve of my bottom lip, and I opened my mouth to receive him. I always thought he would taste like cigarettes, but he was warm and sweet, and when I sucked on his tongue, he groaned into my mouth.

“Fuck,” I breathed as his lips left mine, trailing down my neck, nipping lightly at my skin. My shirt rose as his hot palms slid up my ribs to my breasts, squeezing, teasing my peaked nipples with his thumb and forefinger. His mouth followed, and my breath caught in my throat at the warm pull against my skin.

I gripped his head, holding him to me, savoring the dizzying heat building inside me with each brush of his lips, each swirl of his tongue. I wondered how much more I could take before I begged him to make me come.

Turned out not much.

“Zahariev,” I whispered—pled, really, grinding against his swollen cock. He groaned, and his hands tightened around me, and then suddenly, I was on my back, and his knee was between my thighs as he hovered over me on the bed.

Our gazes met.

His skin was flushed and his lips a delicious shade of dark pink. His eyes scanned my face, and I hoped he was making a similar assessment and not thinking about lists.

I drew my knees up, one at a time, so they braced his body.

“What are you thinking?” I whispered.

He shook his head once. “That you’ve fucked me up, little love.”

I didn’t have time to comprehend what he’d said or even smile teasingly at his words because he kissed me again. His body came to rest against mine, sealing us together. Myhands grazed down his back beneath the waist of his jeans where I squeezed the hard muscle of his ass. It wasn’t until I tried to reach between us, to smooth the palm of my hand against his naked flesh, that he stopped me. Gripping my wrists, he planted them firmly above my head.

I might have found it hot if it hadn’t hurt, but he’d unknowingly touched the burn on my wrist.