Tempted

Chapter 6

Monsters—big, white-faced monsters—chased Sarah through a lab made of stone. She cried out and backed into a cabinet, her gaze wide on the advancing Kurjan. His fingers morphed into needles. Big, dangerous, vampire killing needles. She screamed.

“Sarah. Milaya, wake up.” Gentle hands shook her shoulders.

The scent of cedar filled her nostrils. She opened her eyes, and the sight of male filled them. “Max.” She relaxed with a sigh.

Soft moonlight danced over his face, creating rugged valleys. One button held his shirt together, as if he’d grabbed it before entering the bedroom. He sat on the bed. “You had a bad dream.”

She scooted to a sitting position, resting her back against the upholstered headboard. Vibrations from a man reading a mystery novel wandered through her, and she shoved them away. Apparently the last person to touch the headboard had been alone. Thank goodness. She’d sat on the bed for a moment to think. Exhaustion sucked. “I fell asleep.”

“That’s good.” Max slipped off her tennis shoes with quick movements. He gently rubbed the arch of each foot, and she fought a groan at the exquisite pleasure.

“Go back to sleep—under the covers this time.” He placed her foot back on the bed and stood up, heading toward the door.

“Would you stay?” she asked quietly.

He stopped. His shoulders tensed, and he didn’t turn around. “I’m not in the mood for cuddling, Sarah.”

“Neither am I.” Something inside her calmed. He was big and strong. She wanted him—more than she’d ever wanted any man. “I’m in the mood for you.”

He pivoted, his metallic eyes darkening. “Sarah, there’s a lot you don’t understand.” Reason filled his tone, while color slashed across his cheekbones. Desire. Lust. Oh, he wanted her.

“Yeah. You dole out information sparingly.” Unease flushed through her. “I’m not easy, Max. I mean, I don’t usually extend an invite.” She’d had two lovers in her twenty-eight years of life. She could barely remember what they looked like when faced with a male such as Max.

A wicked smile quirked his lips. “I don’t think you’re easy. In fact, you’re sexy as hell.”

On him, the bad-boy look was more deadly than dangerous.

Yet instead of fear, raw need rippled under her skin. “So. Can this happen without you turning me into a vampire?” She aimed for amused and sophisticated, but her tone emerged breathless. Needy.

He lifted a shoulder. “I already told you. Vampires are born, not made. No one can ever turn you into a vampire.”

“What about a mate?” The question slipped out before she could bite it back.

“I won’t mate you.” His jaw firmed.

Hurt swirled through her, surprising in its intensity. She’d asked for only the night—but he could’ve wanted more. “So you’re offering a fuck, not a future?”

He stilled. The air thickened. “Talk like that, sweetheart, and I’m offering a spanking.”

She fought a gasp. He’d threatened her. That shouldn’t be sexy. Temper lifted her chin. Intrigue sped up her heart rate. Temper won. “Don’t worry, Max. I’ve changed my mind. You can go mate any eighteen-year-old bimbo you want.” She bit her lip.

“No, I can’t.” The dark amusement in his voice spiraled her temper further.

His gaze dropped to her nipples—her hard, pebbled, needy nipples. He took a step forward, fists clenching. Electric pink shot through the brown when his gaze rose. “Vampires are male only. Many of our mates are human. Enhanced females.”

He took another step closer, visibly making himself stop. “They’re few and far between.”

His voice, so dark, so sexy, warmed her blood. Her chest rose with quick breaths. She tried to control the breathing, but an awakening in her abdomen took over. She hadn’t felt anything for either Jase or Conn, and they were vampires. Only Max. That had to mean something. “So I’m a potential mate? One of the few?”

“Yes.”

Confusion slowed the thoughts in her head. “Even so, I’m not for you.” Geez. It wasn’t like she’d offered the guy forever.

“No.” He tucked his hands in his back pockets. “I’m not taking a mate, sweetheart.”

She rolled her eyes. “Ah, I get it. Your job is too dangerous. . . you’re a lone wolf ... you don’t deserve love.” Throwing out all the lame reasons from a romance novel she’d read lately, she let sarcasm loose.

He lifted an eyebrow. “Remember that spanking? My palm is beginning to itch.”

Vulnerability warred with need. She twisted, placing her feet on the floor, scrunching her toes into the carpet. “I’m not afraid of you.”

“Then you’re not as smart as I thought.” He toed off his boots. “In response to what you said”—he held up his forefinger—“first, my job is dangerous, but I’d protect you.” He raised another finger. “Second, I’m nowhere near a wolf—lone or otherwise. Believe me, I know a couple. And finally”—he held up three fingers—“love is something I’ve never understood.”

He was matter-of-fact about the last part. How sad.

“So that’s why you don’t want a mate?”

“No.” He tugged his shirt over his head. “Our mates are in danger—much more than usual. The virus we’re trying to cure might destroy them.”

She kept her focus on his rugged face, not on the devastating breadth of his chest. “Is mating forever?”

“Yes. When a vampire mates a female, her chromosomal pairs increase to twenty-eight, making her nearly immortal. She can die by beheading, just like vampires.” His hands went to the buttons on his jeans. “The virus negates the mating bond, unraveling chromosomal pairs. We’re not sure if it will stop at making them human or keep going until they’re, well, nothing.”

Why was he taking off his clothes? She slid off the bed to stand and face him. “I didn’t ask to be your mate.”

“Yeah, Milaya, I know.” The buttons of his jeans popped free. “But you feel this—thing between us—as much as I do. Something here.” He touched his fingers to his chest and kicked out of his pants, leaving naked male. Aroused naked male. A very well-endowed male. “Just thought you should know everything. Most vampires mate with a bite to the neck during sex. I won’t bite ... your neck. Now take off your clothes.”

Heat rushed into Sarah’s face. Her panties dampened. Sexy. The man was too sexy to be real. “What does that mean? Milaya?”

“My pretty one. In Russian.” One eyebrow rose. “The term fits you. Now strip.”

Warmth flushed through her. The term fit her? She’d asked for this—and damn if she didn’t want him. With a huff, she yanked her shirt over her head.

“Very nice. Your nipples look like candy.” He moved to her, pressing her to the wall with his muscular body. Hard and full, his cock pressed against her with masculine demand.

Cool and casual, she forced a smile. “Thanks.” She reached for the clasp of her jeans.

“Let me.” Rough and calloused, his hands covered hers.

“I can do it.” Control—she needed to keep some.

“Ah, sweetheart”—he pressed both palms into her shoulders, caressing down her biceps, past her elbows, to clasp her wrists—“you might want to be careful how you play.”

The low tone found a direct line to her clit. Hot, moist, reacting just to him. She clenched her thighs together to keep from rubbing against him. “I’m not playing.”

“Neither am I.” His gentle grip tightened and he lifted both wrists above her head, securing them in one large hand. “There now.”

The stretch arched her back, scraping her nipples against his warm skin.

Pure pleasure zapped from her breasts to her core. Lights flared behind her eyelids. “Max.” She aimed for demand, though it sounded more like a plea. She was beyond caring.

A low rumble came from his chest. “You say my name like that, sweetheart, I might come right now.” Cool air washed over her as he eased back just enough to place a palm against her upper chest, tapered fingers spread out. “The first time I saw you, when you tried to kick me, I imagined this. You, so sexy, wet for me.”

His fingers slid between her breasts and down to her waist to unclasp her jeans. Sliding his hand around, he plunged it inside her jeans and cupped her butt. “When I saw this sweet ass wiggling out of that window, I hoped I’d get the chance to sink my teeth right here.” He ran a finger along the crease where her buttock met her thigh.

A whimper escaped her. So much sensation—heat and need rose up so hard, so fast—her breath caught. As she tried to focus, tried to gain some control, her jeans and panties hit the floor.

He released her wrists.

The strongest man she’d ever met dropped to one knee. She protested, shifting sideways, only to have one broad hand clasp her thigh to hold her in place. “Max—”

His mouth found her. A low hum of male appreciation echoed against her clit. Oh God. Her head knocked against the smooth wallpaper. His index finger caressed her folds, sliding inside, gentle and sure. His tongue flicked out to play.

Tremors shook her knees. Lines of lightning blasted behind her lids. Pleasure, so demanding, so consuming, filled her until all she could do was feel. She pressed her palms to the wall, trying to stay upright.

A second finger joined the first and fucked her with slow, sure strokes. Helpless, she gyrated against him.

With a hungry growl, his lips enclosed her clit, and sucked.

The world exploded.

She cried out. Her eyes opened to the room sheeting white. Waves cascaded through her, and she sobbed his name. He gentled her, waiting until she calmed before standing.

Rough, his hand tangled in her hair and he took her mouth. Hard as granite, he pressed against her—towered over her. With her height, she met most men eye-to-eye. Not Max. Surrounded by him, she felt small, feminine. Like she’d imagined those perky cheerleaders had felt in high school. Deep down, she sighed.

He ate at her mouth, devouring her with incredible heat. His tongue claimed, his lips possessed. Her arms rose and encircled him, both hands spreading across his muscular back.

Desire flared to life inside her again, stronger—heavier and more insistent—than before. She slid her palms down, caressing over old scars and ridges to reach an excellent male ass. She squeezed.

The room tilted. Less than a heartbeat later, she found herself flat on the mattress, Max over her. His mouth enclosed one nipple.

Fire lanced through her. “God, Max.”

He chuckled, the vibrations nearly sending her over the edge. One inflexible knee parted her thighs, pressing against her swollen core. His dangerous mouth wandered over to lick and torture the other breast.

She tugged on his thick hair. “Now, Max. Please.”

A solid arm banded around her waist. The room tilted again. She landed on top of him, straddling his magnificent body, his cock pulsing beneath her. His grin surpassed wicked, his eyes a dark maroon—way beyond pink. “You set the pace, sweetheart.” For the briefest of moments, vulnerability flashed in those otherworldly eyes.

Her heart thumped hard against her ribs. He was afraid of hurting her. Emotion swelled her chest. The need to protect him, the feminine need to reassure him, caught her off guard. “I trust you, Max. You won’t hurt me.”

“I know.” He grasped her hips, raising her in the air—onto him.

Bending forward, she cautiously guided him into her body. Several times she paused, allowing her body to adjust to his size.

The fingers at her hips dug in, his palms vibrating. Muscles rippled in his abs and chest as he held himself in check.

Power spiked along her spine. Control. She had it, and paused again, a flirtatious chuckle bubbling up.

Warning flared in his eyes. His hold tightened. He plunged up, pressing her the rest of the way along his shaft. Pain froze her in place, then pleasure burst so hard and fast she clutched both hands to his chest.

“I warned you about playing, Sarah.” While he sounded in control, a vein pulsed in his forehead.

The dare pushed her beyond reason. Beyond the logical, steady woman she’d always been. “Is that so?” Her lips tickled into a small smile. She rose up, and slowly slid down, taking all of him, torturing them both.

He tightened his grip on her hips once again. “Sarah.”

Freedom gave her courage. The courage to push herself and the courage to tempt him. She needed to be the one to make him lose himself. She levered up, then teased him with a slow glide down again.

A primal growl erupted from his chest.

Caution flirted, but the man tempted her more. She flattened her palms on his abdomen, tightened her muscles, and levered up, torturing them both.

No additional warning was given. He flipped her beneath him, plunging deep and fast. His hands trapped hers against the bed. Pleasure bit into her. Triumph rushed through her. She curled her fingers through his, meeting him thrust for thrust.

His gaze devoured hers. “Wrap your legs around me.”

She did, and he plunged deeper. She locked her feet at the small of his back, holding on to his hands. Harder, more powerful, his thrusts rocked the bed, overwhelming her. Giving so much pleasure, yet taking far more than she’d intended to give—part of herself—a piece she wasn’t sure she’d ever get back.

Torment filled his eyes. His fangs dropped low and sharp.

Need whipped through her sex. Unbidden, she turned to expose her neck, offering.

A half growl, half groan ripped from his chest. Capturing her wrists in one hand over her head, he grabbed her ass, lifting her. His knees bent and he yanked her into him, pounding as if he couldn’t stop.

Oh God. So close. She was so close. “Max.”

He angled the base of his shaft over her clit. Fire exploded from inside her, ripping along every nerve. She cried out, arching against him, sensations consuming her. With a growl, he ground into her, his entire body tightening as he came. Holding her tight, he filled her with so much more than the physical. He dropped his head onto her neck, giving her a soft kiss.

He released her wrists and settled against her. She lowered her arms and held him tight. So tight. How could she ever let him go?