Darcy wrinkled her nose in distaste. "Okay, that's not only creepy, but more information than I really wanted."
He gave an impatient shake of his head. "Kidnapping is not why I find you distracting."
"Then why?"
"Because you ..."
She gave a lift of her brows as his words came to a halt. "I what?"
He was silent for so long that Darcy began to fear he was going to refuse to answer. Then with obvious reluctance, he forced himself to complete his confession.
"You make me feel."
"I make you feel what?"
"Everything."
She blinked in confusion. "I'm afraid that's a little broad, Styx."
He gave a low hiss, his fingers tightening on her cheek. "You make me happy, and furious, and passionate, and terrified. I am not accustomed to such sensations."
Good, she thought with a selfish flare of satisfaction. It would be stunningly unfair if she were the only one suffering.
"And?" she prompted.
"I do not entirely like them," he said through gritted teeth. "They are troubling."
She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Clearly Styx had spent a very long time either ignoring his feelings or simply managing not to have any.
A nice trick if it was possible.
"Styx, emotions aren't something you like or dislike," she said softly. "They just are."
"So I am discovering," he murmured, his eyes slowly darkening as his gaze drifted over her upturned face. "I'm also discovering that there are some emotions that I prefer far more than others."
Darcy's mouth was dry as her heart gave a sharp jerk. Oh lord, she knew precisely what emotions he meant. The ones that were already tightening her lower stomach and making her ache with the need to have him deep within her.
She made a soft sound. Something between a moan and a sigh. She wasn't really sure what it meant, but whatever it was, it was enough encouragement for Styx.
His hand shifted to cradle her head as he brushed his lips lightly over her mouth.
It was a mere butterfly of a touch, but it managed to send a lightning bolt of excitement through her. Oh ... lord. He was a walking, talking sexual temptation, and she was all too susceptible.
Her fingers dug into the corded muscles of his arms even as her body instinctively arched closer. She needed to feel his cool strength pressing against her, to fit her curves so tightly against him that it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began.
It was a need that went way beyond mere sex, she realized with a faint flutter of panic. Even when she was running from Styx, she knew that a part of her, an essential, gut-deep part of her, would always belong to him.
She didn't know how, or when, it had happened, but there was no denying the truth of the matter.
When Styx wasn't near, she felt as if a part of her was missing.
Sensing her ready response to his touch, Styx wrapped his arms around her and deepened his kiss. With a growing insistency, his tongue pressed between her lips, tasting her moist heat with a hunger that he didn't bother to hide.
Her head was whirling and her heart thundering as her hands skimmed up his arms to the broad strength of his shoulders. She could feel his fierce hunger in the coiled hardness of his body and the restless movement of his hands as they traveled down her back and over the curve of her hips.
He gave a low growl as he nipped at the corner of her mouth and then trailed his tongue along the line of her jaw.
"I want you, angel," he muttered as he buried his face in the curve of her neck.
Her entire body shook with a powerful surge of desire. It didn't matter how many times Styx made love to her, it would never, ever be enough.
Struggling to recall why she shouldn't just rip off his clothes and have her way with him, Darcy gave a feint shake of her head.
"Wait," she protested in a breathless voice. "I can't think when you are kissing me."
He rubbed his fangs over her sensitive skin. "Then don't think."
Her fingers clutched at his shoulders. Sharp, tingling pleasure was racing from her neck straight to the pit of her stomach.
"This is far from settled, Styx," she warned.
"Shh. I can't think when I'm kissing you, either" he commanded as his lips closed over hers.
Darcy's eyes slid shut even as a voice in the back of her mind warned that this was not the best means of making her point with Styx.
She was a practical woman. She knew a losing battle when it was smacking her in the head.
She could make her point later.
With a low groan, Darcy parted her lips and plunged her fingers into his loose hair. The thick strands felt like silk beneath her fingers. Cool and smooth and perfect as the rest of him.
Oh, yeah. She could make her point much, much later.
Heat rippled through her as Styx tightened his grip on her hips and with fluid ease lifted her off her feet and carried her toward the vast bed.
A sense of absolute serenity settled in her heart even as her body was smoldering with a growing desire.
No matter how aggravating, annoying, arrogant, and aloof Styx might be at times, this was exactly where she belonged.
In his arms.
The sensation of slick satin brushed her back as Styx laid her gently on the bed. She expected him to follow her downward onto the mattress, but as she reluctantly lifted her gaze she discovered him standing beside the bed as he hungrily ran his gaze over her slender curves.
"You are so beautiful," he said in a husky tone as he reached out to gently tug the towel from her body.
Darcy shivered beneath the heat of his gaze. There was a raw need etched across his lean features she had never seen before. As if they had been apart for years rather than a few hours.
Swallowing the strange lump in her throat, she lay passive as he stroked his hand down the curve of her neck with heartbreaking reverence.
"Styx?"
"So soft... so warm," he whispered. Deliberately his hand shifted to cup the small weight of her breast. "I could drown in such sweetness."
Darcy allowed her eyes to flutter shut as his thumb brushed over her hardened nipple. Yes, yes, yes. This was the sort of thing a woman could become addicted to.
His searching hands continued their trail of fire down her body, tracing the curve of her waist and down her hips. Her breath caught and she gave a small moan.
Magic.
Ever downward he explored her thighs, her calves, and at last, the very tips of her toes. He lingered and stroked and searched. He caressed her as if he was memorizing every inch of her.
Her fingers grasped the sheets beneath her as pleasure flowed through her body.