Page 18 of Nauti Kisses (Nauti 6)

She watched silently as he scrambled eggs and made toast, trying to come up with an effective argument. One that would ensure he would stay out of the bed with her, one that would aid her in keeping secret the sheer depth of hunger that arose in her where he was concerned.

God help her if he actually touched her while he was sober. If he didn’t pass out and forget all the important parts. She didn’t know if she could bear allowing him to possess her, to know what he was taking from her, only to send her on her way when this was finished.

“You overrate yourself. ” And that had to be the lousiest comeback that she could have let slip past her lips.

It was met with a small, confident grin. “We’ll find out later,” he promised her. “Once I have you in my bed and I see how deep those bruises are, how much loving you can take. But be prepared, Sierra, you’re sharing my bed, and I’ll touch you when I want to, when I need to. You might have run before, but I think we both know your running days are over here. ”

Her running days were over?

Did he even have a clue how hard it was to stay away from him? How she had cried each time she had ignored his messages, how she had grieved when he had left Boston.

Damn him. He had broken her heart that night and had no idea what he had done to her. Just as he had no idea that he had taken her innocence a second before he passed out on top of her.

The bastard!

But she couldn’t deny him, either.

She knew damned good and well that she wouldn’t make it an hour in the bed with him without giving in to the needs he aroused in her.

Oh, a perverse, angry part of her wanted to. She wanted to throw his offer back in his face and show him exactly how easily she could refuse him. The problem was, as angry as he made her, as much as he hurt her, she didn’t want to refuse him. Her body didn’t want to refuse him.

She remembered the pleasure just as vividly as she remembered the heartache, and she wanted more. More pleasure. More touch. More of those lethal kisses, and that would require more of the pain as well.

Could she hold on to what was left of her heart and still give in to him?

There wasn’t a chance. He would destroy her and she was going to let him do it.

“You didn’t do enough to me while you were in Boston, did you, John?” she asked him softly. “You didn’t hurt me enough, right?”

“What did I do to you, Sierra?” Confusion crossed his face, filled his eyes. “I kissed you, I touched you. We nearly had sex and then you ran off. You didn’t give me much of a chance after that to do anything. ”

“And I don’t intend to give you a chance to do anything now,” she warned him, despite the fact that she could barely breathe for the erotic implications running through her mind. “I can sleep just fine on the couch. ”

Damn him. Every nerve ending in her body was rioting at the thought of him touching her, finally finishing what he had begun that night a year ago.

But she had learned something that night, something about herself at least. She had learned that she wanted more from John than his kisses, his touches. Once, she had thought it would be enough, if that was all she could have. It wouldn’t be, though. He would rip her heart from her chest, leaving her lost and alone. As lost and alone as she had been when she learned he had left Boston.

No, she wanted John’s heart.

“Couch won’t do, baby. ” He was shaking his head as he fixed breakfast, his broad back to her.

John had been lean, metro muscular rather than bulky. He had been strong before, but as she watched him move, watched the muscles in his back and shoulders shift, she realized his body had changed more than she had once suspected.

Those muscles were now tight, hard, powerful. She wondered what it would feel like if she ran her hands over them, dug her nails into them.

“You’re making my dick hard staring at me like that,” he stated without turning around.

Sierra almost lost her breath at the husky, controlled lust in his voice.

“What makes you think you’re worth looking at, dummy,” she snapped out angrily.

He chuckled and the sound went straight to her thighs, tightened them, then zipped to her womb with a blast of heat. Damn him, she could feel her juices flooding her pussy, her inner muscles tightening, clenching in hunger.

“I can feel you looking at me. I’ve always been able to feel you looking at me. ” By the sound of his voice, it wasn’t an admission he particularly liked.

“It’s called killing looks,” she informed him as she moved to the bar to watch him more closely. “Most of the time I slap you upside the head with something. ”

He flashed her a grin. A charming, rakish grin that had the butterflies in her stomach doing cartwheels in arousal.

---