Page 67 of Kiss of Fire

“But I wasn’t doing anything wrong.” She fought to keep her voice even. She was damned if she’d let him intimidate her. “Tor was being a friend. Which is more than I can say for you.”

“I am not your friend. I am supposed to be your betrothed. And it is time you started acting like it.” He slid an arm around her waist and dragged her close, so close she could feel his nakedness push against her. “Perhaps you need a lesson. A reminder of the role you are playing.”

She struggled against his grip ineffectually.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Let me go.”

“Doeshehold you like this? Your Sylvan?”

“It’s not like that. Tor would never…”

“Of course he would. I have seen the way he looks at you.” He slid his hand into the hair at the nape of her neck. “But while our deal is in place, you are mine.”

His mouth closed on hers and he kissed her hard, plundering her lips with sensual intensity. He tasted of cinnamon, she thought wildly. She put her hands against his chest, intending to push him away but somehow ended up clinging to him instead.

She had never been kissed like this before. His tongue twined with hers, a languid invasion that left her weak. When he finally released her mouth, she was breathless.

He kissed the hollow under her ear, then trailed his lips with agonising slowness down her neck. His hand slid from her waist to her breast.

“What are you doing?” she whispered.

“Making a point.”

Mortified, she realised she was pressing against him. He stroked her nipples, sending bolts of pleasure through her whole body. A slow, heavy pulse began to beat between her legs.

“Shade…”

“Does your woodland boy make you feel like this?”

She couldn’t answer. The pleasure he was inflicting made her incapable of thought. She stifled a moan as he lifted her clear of the soapy water. Her legs wrapped round his waist and she arched her back, her eyes closed in ecstasy as he kissed her breasts. He ran his tongue over the dark-rose tips, feeling them tighten.

“Oh, God,” she gasped.

She was grinding against him, communicating an unspoken need, and he growled deep in his throat. He was hard, harder than he could remember, and he wanted her. More than he’d wanted anyone in a very long time.

He claimed her mouth again, unable to help himself, revelling in the sweetness of her lips. By the gods, she was intoxicating.

He slid a hand between her legs and found her deliciously wet. His thumb brushed against her most sensitive part, circling it, stroking it, until her hips bucked. He slowed down, delaying her climax, knowing her pleasure would be heightened.

“Tell me,” he commanded. “Tell me you want me.” He needed to hear it. Strange, as he’d never before doubted whether his partners wanted him. But he needed her to say the words. “Tell me, Raya.”

So many sensations, she thought incoherently. So close to exploding. She felt his hardness pushing against her.

But his voice shook some part of her awake.

If she let him do this, she would be just another notch on his belt. Another weak female he’d easily seduced. He didn’t care about her. He just needed the power she could bring.

Christ, his touch was so good. She knew she had to stop this. She just didn’t know how.

“Tell me you want me,” he insisted.

His hardness was nudging at her entrance and she ached for it, ached for the pleasure she knew it would bring. It would be so easy to give into it.

She gathered every last ounce of her resistance and looked right at him.

“I want you to stop,” she said hoarsely, even as her treacherous body writhed in pleasure.

“Liar. You cannot deny this feels good.”

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