Somehow, the sheet that was covering him got tugged down his ribbed abdomen. Lower. Lower still. It was his gloved hand doing the duty, and with every inch exposed, her eyes had more trouble going anywhere else. He stopped right before his massive erection was revealed, but he gave her a show: The tattoos around his groin stretched and righted themselves as his hips curled and relaxed, curled and relaxed.
"Vishous ..."
"What."
His gloved hand dipped under the black satin, and she didn't have to see where it went to be well aware he'd gripped himself: The fact that he arched back told her everything she needed to know. That and the way he bit down on his lower lip.
"Jane ..."
"What."
"Are you just going to watch, true?"
God, she remembered the first time she'd seen him like this, all laid out on a bed, erect, ready. She'd been giving him a sponge bath, and he'd read her like a book: As much as she hadn't wanted to admit it, she'd been desperate to watch him get off.
And she'd made sure he had.
Feeling heated herself, she leaned over to him, dropping her mouth so that it almost touched his. "You're still deflecting - "
In a flash, his free hand snapped up and clasped the back of her neck, trapping her. And didn't that power in him go straight down between her thighs.
"Yes. I am." His tongue came out and flicked across her lip. "But we can always talk after we're through. You know I never lie."
"I thought the line was more like ... you're never wrong."
"Well, that's true, too." A pumping growl came out of him. "And right now ... you and I need this."
That last part was said with none of the passion and all of the seriousness she needed to hear. And what do you know, he was right. The pair of them had been circling for the last seven days, stepping carefully, avoiding the land mine in the center of their relationship. Connecting like this, skin-to-skin, was going to help them get through to the words that had to be spoken.
"So what do you say?" he murmured.
"What are you waiting for?"
The laugh he let out was low and satisfied, and his forearm tightened and released as he started to stroke himself. "Pull the sheet back, Jane."
The command was husky, but clear, and it got to her. As it always did.
"Do it, Jane. Watch me."
She put her hand on his pec and drifted it downward, feeling the ribs of his chest and the hard ridges of his abdominals, hearing the hiss as he drew a sharp breath in through his teeth. Lifting the sheet, she had to swallow hard as the head of him breached the top of his fist, breaking free and offering itself with a single, crystal tear.
When she reached out for him, he snapped a hold on her wrist and held her back.
"Look at me, Jane ..." came the groan. "But don't touch."
Son of a bitch. She hated when he did this. Loved it, too.
Vishous didn't let go of his hold on her as he worked his erection with his gloved hand, his body so beautiful as it found a rhythm with the pump of his palm. Candlelight turned the whole episode into something mysterious, but then ... it was always like that with V. With him, she never knew what to expect, and not just because he was the son of a deity. He was sex on the edge all the time, hard-cornered and crafty, twisted and demanding.
And she knew that she merely got the watered-down version of him.
There were deeper caves in his underground maze, ones that she had never visited and could never go to.
"Jane," he said roughly. "Whatever you're thinking about, drop it.... Stay with me here and now and don't go there."
She closed her eyes. She'd known what she was mating and what she loved. Back when she'd committed to him for eternity, she'd been well aware of the men and the women and the way he'd had them. She'd just never have guessed that that past would come between them - "
I wasn't with anyone else." His voice was strong and sure. "That night. I swear to it."
Her lids lifted. He'd stopped working himself out and was lying still.
Abruptly, the sight of him was obscured by tears. "I'm so sorry," she croaked. "I just needed to hear that. I trust you, I honestly do, but I -