Or maybe Reaver’s blood running through her veins was messing with her head.
“Why did you stop feeding?” His voice carried a strange hitch to it, but as he threaded his fingers through her hair, his touch was astonishingly tender. “What’s the matter?”
Oh, I’m picturing your head between my legs, your mouth at my sex while you f**k me with your tongue. Why?
She probably shouldn’t lead with that. Still a little dazed from the trip down memory lane, she murmured, “I don’t look like a demon, do I?”
He used his free hand to tilt her chin up and down and from side to side, making a big production of deciding if she had gone all beastie. She tried to read him, to get a hint of what was running through that handsome head, but his eyes gave nothing away.
Finally, his gaze met hers, and oh, she’d been wrong about his eyes giving nothing away. They were filled with heat, longing, and the vaguest sense of… familiarity? Déjà vu? They hadn’t had sex before, but they’d both seen each other na**d. That could explain it.
Except that, back in the cavern, she’d felt that same familiarity. A rightness that didn’t make sense.
Frankly, the mystery was starting to piss her off.
“You don’t look like a demon,” Reaver said, his voice gravelly, and she wondered how he’d sound after a long, hard night of sex. “You need to get some rest. Let my blood heal you.”
She shifted on his lap, nearly moaning at the feel of his hard shaft pushing against the fly of his jeans. She loved that she could affect him that way. Perhaps it was time that she demanded what he owed her.
Sex.
Erotic tension bloomed between them, thick and heavy, almost as if he’d read her thoughts. Maybe she didn’t need to invoke their deal. Maybe he’d sleep with her willingly.
And maybe she was a big idiot. Just because he’d rescued her didn’t mean he’d lower his lofty standards to screw a fallen angel. So yes, she could demand that he fulfill his end of their bargain… except that all of a sudden, forcing him to pleasure her seemed like a real shitty thing to do.
Huh. Looked like her moral compass was starting to point more and more toward Heavenly north.
Which scared the shit out of her. She wanted to be good. She did. But wouldn’t that mean lowering her guard? She’d lowered her guard with Yenrieth, and he’d nearly destroyed her.
But maybe she could start small, like magnanimously telling Reaver she’d let him out of the bargain.
“Reaver—” She spoke at the same time he said, “Harvester,” and because she was feeling all unselfish and good, she patted him on his chest and said, “You first.”
Dear Lord, his chest was firm. She patted a little longer than she should have, but hey, she still had a long way to go to be a totally upstanding person.
To her heart-stopping, mouth-dropping shock, he placed his hand over hers. “Why did you kiss me back at the cavern?”
Too flustered to form a clever response, she said simply, “To annoy you.”
He laughed, a hearty, soul-deep sound. “You do that a lot. You always have.”
Always have? He made it sound like they’d known each other for centuries. “Did it work?”
“Oh, yeah.” He shifted, lifting his hips, and the motion put his erection fully against her sex as she straddled him. “It annoyed me. It would annoy me if you did it again.”
She inhaled sharply. Was this a challenge? Or was he issuing an invitation? Harvester didn’t like invitations. Invitations were commands veiled in the pretense of having a choice.
So she’d take this as a challenge. She never turned those down.
Drawing on rusty seduction skills she hadn’t used in what seemed like forever, she leaned in, angling her face toward his. She paused when only a whisper of air separated their lips. His eyes darkened and grew heavy-lidded, and she felt an abrupt sense of relief. He wasn’t pushing her away. He wasn’t making her feel like an idiot for wanting to kiss him.
It shocked her how much that mattered to her.
Reaver’s heartbeat thrummed rapidly against her palm, speeding up as her mouth hovered over his.
But she wouldn’t give him what he expected. At least, not yet. Reaver had taken the lead for most of the journey so far, and it was time she took control. And kept it.
Lowering her head, she dragged her mouth on a lazy path from his throat to his jaw, where she nipped him hard enough to make him hiss. His hands dropped to her waist, gripping hard when she soothed her little bite with her tongue before moving on to his mouth. His lips met hers eagerly, and she started to think that maybe taking the upper hand wouldn’t be as easy as she’d thought.
He licked at her, forcing her lips open. With a groan, he rolled her under him so he was pinning her, moving between her legs in a slow, sinuous motion that made her writhe to get him even closer.
“Damn,” he whispered against her lips. “Just like I remember. You feel… perfect. Beautiful.”
A wave of heat washed over her with so much force she didn’t bother asking what he remembered. She knew he appreciated her body… hell, he’d always gone for the females who dressed on the trashy side, so she used to dress as provocatively as possible just to mess with him. What better way to drive him crazy than to make him hot and bothered for a female he detested?
But she hadn’t ever believed he thought she was beautiful.
Reaver shifted so they were both on their sides. His hands gripped her hips, guiding her as she ground against him, the weird gel mattress moving with them. It was as if they were in the sky, mating on air currents, angel style.
She wedged her hand between them and palmed his arousal, and his harsh, ragged breath vibrated her all the way to her bones. Even with the thick barrier of his jeans she could feel the hardness of him, the impressive size, the heat that radiated into her skin.
Enough playing. She didn’t do foreplay. Yenrieth had set the bar, and even though he’d destroyed her emotionally after it was over, she hadn’t been able to take her time with anyone since.
And it wasn’t like they had all the time in the world to have sex anyway. No, this had to be a quickie. Maybe once she f**ked him she’d be over whatever it was about him that made her crazy. Since the very first time she met him on his first day of Watcher duty, she’d been drawn to him like a scissor moth to an open eye, which had never made sense. It still didn’t. This was too hot, too intense.
Her skin shrank at the thought. This kind of intensity was bad. She was too involved, and Reaver had to know it. Knowledge was power.
She would never allow any male to wield the kind of power over her that Yenrieth had.
Too late.
Panic built in her chest even as desire bloomed between her legs. His hand drifted to her butt, and her desire flared hotter, edging out panic and roaring to victory.
Well played, Reaver. Well played.
Sex could be just sex. That’s all it ever had been for her. She wasn’t a young, stupid angel giving her virginity to the male she loved.
She was quite capable of separating her emotions from her physical needs.
Telling herself all the lies she needed to believe, she dragged her fingernails up his length, smiling at his combined hiss and moan of pleasure. At the button at the top of his fly, she stopped, letting herself toy with the brass disc for a heartbeat.
Yes. This was going to be good.
She flicked the button and tugged on the denim, and the fly opened with a series of muffled pops. Reaver’s c*ck sprang free, a broad, dusky column pulsing with thick veins. Finally, after all these years of curiosity, she took him in her palm.
He gasped, followed by a soft curse that was more of a moan. Oh, she loved those sounds—there was nothing hotter than a male in the throes of pleasure, nothing more beautiful than Reaver as he threw his head back and panted, his parted lips glistening from their kiss. In her hand he was rock hard under velvety-smooth skin, and as much as she wanted to pump her fist and take him higher, she wanted to savor this moment more.
She supposed she could take a little time for foreplay.
A desperate craving unfurled in her belly and reached into places she’d forgotten she had, awakening a beast she wasn’t sure could be put back in its cage. No, she was sure. She’d always been able to have casual sex… in fact, she preferred a no-strings roll in the hay.
But the desire she felt right now was nothing like what she’d felt for those casual flings.
Squeezing lightly, she swept her thumb back and forth at the silky tip of him, loving how his entire body jerked with each slow pass. She threw her leg over his and got even closer, so ready to take him inside her the moment they got their clothes off.
Suddenly, he gripped her wrist. “No… Harvester. We can’t.”
“We can,” she whispered against his throat. “I’m healed.” Except for her wings, but the bones were knitting together swiftly now, the pain dulled from the feeding.
“It’s not that.” He lifted her as if she weighed nothing at all and set her aside. Sharp, lashing pain scored her heart as he sat up and buttoned his jeans. “I’m not doing this with you.”
What the hell was going on? Harvester struggled to jump-start her lust-addled brain and make sense of what he was saying. Her body was juiced, her feminine parts were aching, and her heart was pounding.
Swallowing dryly, she sat up and braced herself against the wall. “What’s the problem?”
Shoving to his feet, he swore, long and loud. “What’s the problem? It’s you, Harvester.” He gestured between them. “It’s us. This can’t work.”
Very slowly, as if she were bleeding to death, something drained out of her, leaving her colder and more hollow than ever before. She’d trusted him to not reject her, and didn’t it figure that he’d waited until she’d truly let down her guard to do it.
“Of course we can’t work,” she said, welcoming the bitterness that seeped into her voice. Her old friend was back. “You’re a pure, holy angel of goodness, and I’m Satan’s evil whore of a daughter. So yeah, we can’t work. Thanks for pointing that out, Captain Obvious. But we can f**k.”