Please do not leave me wanting.
Captivating words. Desperate desire. Such a powerful plea. All of it hers.
She whispered his name like a benediction. The need in her tone throbbed between his temples. Tore into his heart. Left him grasping at straws, searching for self-control, a way to hold the line as she kissed him again. Her tongue flicked along his teeth, burning a path into his mouth. Passion flamed into a wall of heat, licking through his veins, making his balls fist up tight and his heart pound the inside of his chest. Thump-thump-throb. Boom-boom-slam. The sound echoed, roaring into a lust-filled chant, tempting him and . . . oh God. He wanted to do it—continue, lose all restraint, and be the first to show her pleasure. Be the only man to lay her down and teach her true abandon.
It would be so easy to do. To let go, lose control, and give Cosmina her way.
She wanted him. And honestly, he yearned to please her. Was driven to provide all she asked, so . . . no harm, no foul. The situation held all he insisted upon—willingness, a bed, and explosive desire. All incredible components. A great combination heading into a brief interlude. One that benefited both parties. Except for one thing . . .
It wasn’t that simple.
Particularly since brief interlude would never apply to Cosmina. ’Twould be more of a love affair, a complicated one in which he lost his mind and got burned in the process. Logic pointed out the flaws in the plan. Instinct backed up the theory. One night—afternoon, evening, whatever; he didn’t know what time it was—would never be enough. Not with her. It was a simple fact wrapped up in unshakable certainty that led to an inescapable conclusion. All based on how he felt about her—hot, needy, proud, invested, so goddamn possessive he understood the implications.
Laying her down and loving her amounted to self-annihilation.
He wouldn’t survive the experience unscathed. Not with his heart intact. She wasn’t like the other women he’d bedded. She was infinitely more precious. Special in ways he found difficult to describe, but knew to be true. Which meant his love ’em hard, leave ’em fast maxim wouldn’t work with her. For the first time in his life, Henrik wanted to stay. To stick around long enough to make a play for another’s heart. To see if, by some miracle, she came to value him in return. Xavian had done it, risked all, been brave, and held on to Afina. It defied logic—and the code of their kind—but somehow their relationship, the love the pair shared, worked. His sister was happy, and his best friend full of the kind of contentment most men never found.
Odd. Baffling. So very tempting. Almost irrepressible, but for one thing.
Cosmina deserved so much better than him.
Heart heavy with regret, Henrik retreated a little, lifting his mouth from hers. He needed to end it now. Set her aside and walk away this instant. Before he forgot restraint and—
“Nay,” she said, her lips brushing over his. Her hands flexed in his hair. She leaned in, bridging the distance, and bit down on his bottom lip. A gentle nip. A sweet tug, and bliss swirled, taking him on a passion-fueled ride. “Stay. Kiss me again.”
Another whispered plea. More soul-stirring need. Enough to drag him closer to edge. “Cosmina.”
“Now, Henrik.”
Her tone brooked no argument. Her command of the kiss fueled his fire, forcing him to respond even as he tried to resist her. But Christ, it was hard. He wanted what she offered. Needed to touch, taste, and discover. And as she took control, Henrik lost his will—his mind too—and opened wider, encouraging her to explore and take and tease.
Which—goddamn it—scared the hell out of him.
For good reason. His need for her was unsettling, beyond anything he’d ever experienced, which left him at her mercy. A problem, particularly since she didn’t appear to have any—kissing him as though starving, sending her tongue deep, eating at his mouth the way he yearned to feast upon her body. And as she stoked his flames higher, ramping him into dangerous territory, Henrik felt himself crack and give ground.
Something he never did.
Always dominant in bed, he dictated the play. ’Twas a hard and fast rule. One he lived by. Too bad it wasn’t working for him right now. Her touch. The soft sounds she made. The feel of her pressed against him. Temptation personified. Beautiful wanton. Gorgeous hellion. She sent him soaring. Each caress compounded the effect, multiplying until the word no disappeared from his vocabulary. Not a good sign. The ground rules must be laid in advance. He needed her to understand and accept before they went any further. Believe him when he told her they had no future together. She was a member of the Blessed, a valuable asset to the Goddess of All Things. He was an assassin assigned to protect her, one with a tainted past and too much blood on his hands.
It wouldn’t end well. Was doomed to fail. He knew it, even if she didn’t.
Reaching for some small measure of restraint, he turned his head and broke the kiss. She protested and, with a tug, tried to bring him back. He almost gave in. Almost said to hell with honor, took control, and tangled his tongue with hers. Almost, but not quite. Despite rampant need, he couldn’t do it. Couldn’t go on without telling her the truth.
Warning her was the right thing to do.
“Cosmina . . . iubita, slow down. Ease up a moment. We need to . . .” Chest pumping, he fought to draw a full breath. A useless endeavor. Cosmina was too quick. Denied his kiss, she dipped her head and set her mouth to the side of his throat. The sharp edge of her teeth scraped his skin. His muscles flexed, tightening in alarm as she shifted to her knees. One moment, she sat beside him on the mattress. The next, she sat astride him, the insides of her thighs pressed to the outside of his as she settled her exquisite bottom in his lap. Heat bled through her thin braes, scorching him through his leather trews, making him twitch. “Christ, don’t—”
“What, Henrik?”
Playing the seductress, she undulated against him, riding the hard ridge of his erection. He cursed and rolled his hips, meeting her downward thrust, encouraging her ride as he flicked at the hem of her shirt. Soft skin met his palms and . . . ah hell. Oh Jesus. He was in trouble. He couldn’t stop touching her, never mind breathe when she rode him that way. His hands traveled of their own volition, refusing to listen to him, caressing her bare back, loving the feel of her.
She hummed against the side of his neck. “Make you desire me? Take what I want instead of waiting for it to happen?” With a quick shift, she licked over his pulse point, lashing him with bliss, then raised her head. Bright-green eyes met his. “I’m tired of waiting. You’re here. I want you. Give me what I need.”
He longed to . . . over and over, again and again. “Sweet love, ’tisn’t that simple.”
“Aye, it is . . . just that simple. You. Me. Desire. Simplest thing in the world.”
“Cosmina,” he said, his heart aching so hard his whole chest hurt. “I cannot stay.”
“How long do we have together?”
“Two, mayhap three, days.”
“Well then . . .” Gaze steady, she brushed her mouth against his. So gentle. So sweet. Way too accepting. “We’d best make the most of it, don’t you think?”
Think? Christ, ’twas too much to hope for. His brain—along with every ounce of good sense—was gone.
“Make love to me, Henrik. Show me true pleasure,” she whispered. “No regrets.”
And just like that, he was done. Finished. Beyond the limits of smart, plunging headlong off desire’s cliff into the stupidest form of wrong.