“I don’t need you to teach me anything,” she informed him, her eyes narrowing on him. “And I won’t give you the chance to prove anything, new. So you’re wasting your breath and your time. Go find one of your bimbos, they might appreciate your efforts. I don’t.”
A dare. It was the one thing she obviously hadn’t learned while she worked with him. Never dare him. He was too close to her, too aware of the fact that if he gave her an inch then she had the inner strength to attempt to take a mile and more.
“Oh Tey, there’s so much I could teach you though,” he crooned, watching her face flush, those beautiful dark green eyes flickering with a surge of hunger at the sound of his voice.
Moving around the bar, he locked his gaze on hers as he neared her. He’d decided now was as good a time as any to show her exactly how wrong she was. Until this was over, illusion or not, she was his woman and she would be his lover. And by God, he’d dare anyone to try to take her from him
Tehya felt her heart racing, a weakness filling her womb as she backed up, edging into the corner of the L-shaped counter as Jordan stalked toward her.
He didn’t move quickly. Eyes narrowed, his muscular body tall and broad, tense and predatory, he focused on her with an expression tight with lust. He came up to her, trapping her against the counter, his hips pressing against hers, the hardened length of his cock shockingly thick and hard beneath the denim he wore.
“What do you think this is going to prove?” She heard the weakness in her voice, the catch of breath, the hunger, and she hated it.
All he had to do was touch her. She was such a glutton for punishment that it didn’t even matter that she knew he would never stick around, that she knew he thought she wasn’t good enough for a relationship or to love. When he touched her, it didn’t matter that the only reason he was back was because of responsibility and duty. All that mattered was that he was touching her. That he was there, that she would have one more moment of pleasure at his hands.
“I think it’s going to prove that we both know we can’t fight it as long as we’re involved in this together,” he whispered as his head lowered, his lips feathering along her ear. “Fighting it was easier when we had a mountain to hide in, wasn’t it, darlin’?”
She drew in a hard, ragged breath. “I wasn’t the one fighting it, though, was I, Jordan?”
She had longed for his touch, ached for it. For nine months she had dreamed of it.
“No, you weren’t.” His lips caressed her jaw, the rasp of the dark growth of beard sending shards of sensation racing through her nerve endings. “And now, I just fucking don’t have the strength to save us both.”
A gasp barely escaped as he jerked her to him, his lips suddenly covering hers, slanting over them and pulling her headlong into a maelstrom of wicked sensation and fiery hunger.
One hand cupped her neck, his callused fingers holding her in place as his lips stroked, rubbed against hers, parted them and allowed his tongue to lick against hers as though he wanted nothing more than to taste her.
A whimpering, desperate little moan vibrated in her throat as she buried her hands in his hair. Pleasure sliced through her senses, enfolding her in sensation as Jordan’s arm folded around her hips and he lifted her onto the counter. The position was wickedly carnal, and infused with dominant, possessive intent.
Hunger blazed through her as his hands lowered to drag her legs apart, situating himself between them. The hard ridge of his cock ground against her sex as her juices began to dampen the silk of her panties. Her clit swelled and ached, as her fingers plunged buried deeper into his hair to hold him to her. And she began to pray that he wouldn’t stop, that he wouldn’t pull away. That he would give her just one more memory to hold onto.
“Don’t stop.” Desperation filled her as he broke the kiss, his lips moving to her neck before spreading a line of kisses to her collarbone. Her head arched back, languid pleasure flooded her body with each touch.
“Not hardly,” he bit out, his hands tugging at the hem of her shirt, pulling