"I'm really going to hurt you," she muttered, frustration surging through her because she knew there wasn't really a damned thing she could do.
She could call her brothers.
But that wouldn't really be fair. Would it?
No, she decided, this one she had to handle on her own. She backed up again as he moved closer, her eyes narrowing on him.
"I am not ready to have sex with you yet," she stated imperiously as she tried to escape into the living room. He smiled. A wicked, sensual smile that had her pu**y weeping. Damn him.
"Aren't you?" He stalked her through the large room, her gaze moving around the heavy furniture, taking in the clean masculine lines and nearly clinical sterility of the room. There wasn't even a picture.
"No. I'm not."
Oh but she was. it was beating through her veins and pounding in her chest. Her br**sts were tight with the need for it, her pu**y clenching in hunger.
He stopped as she edged around the heavy cherry wood coffee table, watching him warily.
"You make me want to smile," he whispered then, his eyes filled with warmth, with longing. "Even as stubborn as you can be, you make me want to smile."
Her heart melted. Now, dammit, how was she supposed to stand her ground when he said things like that?
"Now is not the time to be nice, Tarek," she snapped, infuriated at him.
"But I want to be nice to you." He used that whiskey-rough voice like a caress, and it was much too effective for Lyra's peace of mind. "I want to be very nice to you, Lyra. I want to lay you down on that couch, spread your pretty legs, and show you just how nice I can be to you. Wouldn't you like that, baby?" The heat in the room jumped a hundred degrees. She could feel perspiration gathering between her br**sts and along her forehead, and hunger tearing her apart.
She didn't run as he made his way around the table. She watched him, wondering what the hell had happened to her willpower, her strength, her determination to not let this man get around her so easily.
But he did. Not with his words. Or his intent. It was the longing in his eyes, the vulnerability, the joy that sparkled there as she faced him.
"I'm really going to get mad at you one of these days," she warned him as he stepped closer, surrounding her, his hand moving beneath her hair to cup her neck. "And don't bite me again, either. That's just too freaky."
She could feel the wound pulsing, achingly sensitive.
"You complain about the bite, but not the barb?" The casual tone of his voice was not reflected in the tenseness of his body.
"Yeah, well." She cleared her throat nervously. "The barb I can forgive you for. That bite is going to get your ass kicked if my brothers see it, though. I'd prefer to keep you in one piece." He stared down at her thoughtfully.
"I think you enjoyed the barb." He lowered his head, his tongue rasping over the small wound from his bite. "And I think you liked the bite, too, Lyra."
She shivered as his tongue rasped over it, sending currents of pleasure whipping through her.
"Maybe," she gasped in pleasure, standing still, her hands at her sides, curled into fists to keep from touching him, to keep from disturbing the emotion she could feel weaving around her.
"Come here, baby." He pulled her into his arms, leaving her no other choice but to lift her own, her hands moving to his neck, to his glorious mane of hair. "Let's see how much you like both."
His head lowered, his lips covered hers, and she was lost. She knew she was lost. Taken in a firestorm of sensual heat as the delicately flavored hormone began to surge through her already prepared senses.
She moaned into his kiss, her lips parting, accepting his tongue, drawing on it as a savage growl vibrated in his throat. Her nails bit into his shoulders, scraped the flesh, caressing him in turn as his hands gripped her bu**ocks and lifted her against his thighs.
She was aware of him moving her, laying her back on the cushions of the overstuffed couch as he moved over her. He pushed the shirt over her br**sts, but neither of them could break the kiss long enough to tear it off. But somehow he had removed his sweats.
She could feel his cock, hard and heavy against her thigh as his hands roved over her sensitized body. They moaned, the sounds of their pleasure mixing, merging as he lifted her to him, the broad crest of his erection pressing against the slick, readied entrance to her spasming pu**y.
"Lyra…" His harsh, graveled voice pierced her heart as he tore his lips from hers, raising his head to stare down at her with eyes that seemed to melt with emotion.
Oh God, she loved him. Everything about him. Every portion of him.
"Now," she whispered as he paused. "Love me, Tarek…