Oh…yes. God, yes.
Delicious sensations flooded through her, so intense that they nearly sent her to her knees.
Wrapping his arms around her, Cezar jerked her against his body, his tongue plunging into her mouth and his fangs pressed against her lips. Anna gave a small sound between a gasp and a moan, her hands lifting to clutch at his arms.
Some small voice in the back of her mind tried to warn her that she should remember why this was a bad idea. Why she was supposed to be saying no.
The small voice, however, was no competition for the blaze of heat that spread through her body and pooled in the pit of her stomach.
Her lashes slid downward as his lips eased and strayed over her flushed face, his tongue tracing a moist trail down the line of her jaw.
“You taste of figs dipped in honey,” he whispered.
“Figs?”
“Plump.” He gave her ear a small nip. “Ripe.” He scraped his fangs down the curve of her neck. “Sweet figs.”
She moaned as his tongue touched the pulse pounding at the base of her throat. “Cezar, we shouldn’t…”
“We should,” he interrupted in a harsh voice, easily hauling her backward until she was pressed to the wall. “We really, really should.”
Flashbacks to the last time she had been pinned to the wall by this man flared through her mind. It should have cooled the fever that burned like a white-hot blaze. It should have warned her that she was about to walk down the same path that had led to disaster.
Instead all she could remember was the feel of his hands skimming over her skin and the dark pleasure of his bite.
Her head hit the wall as her neck lost the ability to hold it upright, her hands ripping open the silk shirt so she could find the smooth, hairless skin beneath. There might be a bazillion reasons why this was a terrible idea, but at the moment all that mattered was the one reason it was a great idea.
Her body ached for this.
Ached with a force that overwhelmed everything.
His hands skimmed down her waist, dipping beneath her shirt so that they could trace a devastating path back up to cup her br**sts. Her skin quivered beneath his light touch, her breath coming out as a small explosion as his thumbs stroked over her tight ni**les.
“Tell me you like this, Anna,” he rasped, his hands impatiently tugging the shirt over her head before ripping aside the lacy bra. “Tell me that it feels good.”
Her nails bit into his shoulders. “Yes,” she moaned. “It feels so good.”
He muttered something low, his head moving downward so he could capture a nipple between his teeth, teasing it mercilessly with his tongue. Anna gasped at the explosion of sensations.
Dear God. No matter how vivid her memories and dreams, nothing could compare to the actual feel of him.
Continuing his assault on her br**sts, Cezar allowed his hands to skim lower, swiftly undoing the zipper of her jeans and lowering them so she could kick them off her legs (along with her flip flops) and out of the way. Her panties followed the same path.
His cold fingers left a trail of fire as they explored the skin of her inner thighs. He gave her nipple a last nuzzle, then lifted his head and buried his face in her neck.
“If you’re going to say no, querida, it must be soon,” he husked, his body trembling as his fangs rubbed over the thick vein in her neck. “My hunger for you is too great to toy with.”
No?
Not a chance in hell.
She could already feel the tension building deep within. Could almost taste the blessed relief that lurked just out of reach.
“Don’t stop,” she panted, her hands fumbling with the stiff zipper of his jeans. “Don’t you dare stop.”
He growled, stepping back so he could shed his clothing. His movements were so swift that Anna could barely follow the striptease. A pity since she could have spent hours enjoying the sight of all that smooth, bronzed skin stretched over rippling muscles. A body that was meant to be savored with hours of seductive worship.
Hell, she barely caught a glimpse of the large, perfect erection before he was once again pressed against her.
Of course it wasn’t all bad, she discovered. Gazing was all well and good, but there were other senses. Senses that were rejoicing in the feel of his hard shaft brushing against her lower stomach, in the spicy scent of him seeping into her skin, and the taste of his lips as they captured hers in a rough, demanding kiss.
Her arms encircled his waist, stroking up the smooth perfect skin of his back.
Cezar shuddered, his growl rumbling through the air.
“You have tortured me for so long,” he whispered, his fingers once again stroking her inner thigh until he at last reached the wet slit between her legs. “Night after night I’ve hungered for you, aching to have you in my arms…to taste of your blood.”
Anna tilted her head back, silently urging him to take what he desired.
His finger dipped into her body, his thumb finding the source of her deepest pleasure. Slowly the finger stroked deeper and deeper, making Anna arch toward him as the gathering storm threatened to burst.
She sucked in short gasps of air, needing more. Needing him inside her when the explosion hit.
“Cezar, please,” she moaned softly, her hands grasping his hips.
“What, querida? What do you need from me?”
She was way past coherent thought, let alone actual articulation, so instead she grasped his hair and shoved his face against her neck.
“Please.”
He quivered, his hunger so intense she could feel the waves of it searing over her skin.
“Dios, I want to taste you,” he said, his voice oddly strained.
“Then do it,” she commanded, her leg shifting to wrap around his, opening herself to his penetration in a blatant motion.
Cezar hissed.
There was a part of him that knew there would be hell to pay for this delicious encounter. Anna might be overcome with lust at the moment, but the minute sanity returned she would remember all the reasons she had kept him at a distance and then she would find a hundred ways to punish him.
Probably a hundred and one.
And of course, there was always the possibility the Oracles would decide to torture him for this taste of paradise. It’d happened before.
Thankfully, that small, rational part of him was no match for the hunger that was roaring through him.
He had been a warrior his entire life. A hunter that took what was offered and damn the consequences (at least until the Oracles had nailed his ass to the wall). And what he wanted was Anna Randal.
Now.
Forcing away what little conscience he possessed, Cezar opened his mouth and with one smooth strike he buried his fangs deep into her neck.