Shame the Devil (Portland Devils #3) - Rosalind James Page 0,86

her ear, and told her, his voice a murmur, “You don’t get to try to please me.”

“Wh-what?” His lips were moving down now, below her ear. His mouth was on her neck, there where she was most sensitive, as if he’d been drawn to the spot. His hand was in her hair, holding her head, and it was getting a little hard to concentrate. “Harlan …”

“Also …” he said, between kisses at her neck. He was using his teeth the tiniest bit, and the liquid was flooding her veins. Those silver streaks again, going straight to the spot. “I love hearing you call me by my name. I think I’m going to have to insist on that, too.”

“Go back to the … second thing,” she said. “About me.”

He moved to her mouth again, and this time, he kissed her deeper. Kissed her harder, his fingers twining through her hair, tugging at it. So she’d know he was there, she thought, and that was exciting her more. “That’s my birthday present,” he said. “You don’t have to worry about pleasing me, because I’m going to be pleasing myself. You’re going to let me do whatever I want. And you’re going to do whatever I say.”

That was another jolt. A harder one. Alarm. Desire. She tried to say something. It came out as more of a gasp.

He was pulling the tie of her robe now, almost in slow motion, and then he was pulling the two sides apart, spreading them wide with so much deliberation. He looked her over for a long, long moment and didn’t touch her at all, but she could feel the excitement ratcheting up in him like she was in his body. He said, “You’re injured, and it’s going to be too easy for you to forget that once this starts. So if you’re moving tonight, it’s because I’m moving you. Safely. Are we all clear on that?”

She looked up into his face. Stern and strong, the laughter gone, all the surface charm stripped away. Like she was seeing the real man. A man who was way too much for her.

Too bad that too much was exactly what she wanted.

“Yes,” she said, and swallowed. “We’re … clear.”

His hand brushed over her. Her cheek. Her neck. Her shoulder. Her breast. Light as down, and still, she stiffened like she’d been shocked. He smiled and kept it going. Her belly. Her thigh. He stopped there, wrapped his hand around her inner thigh, and said, “Last rule. If you don’t want something, say so. If your foot hurts, if anything hurts, if it doesn’t feel good—tell me. Otherwise?” He wasn’t smiling now, and it wasn’t nice. Her heart was beating like she was in danger. Like she needed to run. He said, “Understand this, because I’m only going to tell you once. Tonight isn’t about you doing what you want, so get that through your head right now. Tonight, it’s all about me.”

27

Following the Rules

Oh, yeah. He’d been right. That was working.

For her, that is. Because you bet it was working for him. Her eyes were amber in the low light, her full lips a little parted, and he’d swear she was panting already just from that. Just from him spreading that robe open, looking her over, and saying a few things.

She was good at fantasy, she’d told him. But making those fantasies come true? That was what he was good at.

It was going to be any trouble at all to get inspired. Her skin gleamed white, except for the flush that was spreading from her chest to her cheeks under his gaze, her breasts were round and full and gorgeously pink-tipped, her waist was the kind of deep indentation that had surely been fashioned for a man’s hands, her hips were more than generous, and those were sure as hell some juicy thighs. White. Rounded. Perfect. He said, “You’re what Dyma said. Like something from another century. And I want my hands all over you. But first …” He got his clothes off in one big hurry, rolled over her, planted his hands on either side of her head, held himself rigid over her, watched those golden eyes widen, and enjoyed the hell out of it. He said, “Spread your legs a little, baby. I don’t want to hurt that foot.” A slow smile, the kind that would let her know what he was thinking. “And I want to look.”

She took a breath, and then she did it, which meant