“What do you mean you'll have me?” she said raggedly.
His right hand came up to cup her jaw, tilting her head to the side like she'd wanted to before. She felt bare and open to him, vulnerable—it made her heart race. His other hand moved up to tease the delicate bones at her collar before dipping down inside her dress.
Hot, blazing pleasure left her gasping, squirming in his arms. Her bottom rubbed against something hard and stiff at his hips. She knew what it was, and even as it shocked her, she couldn't help but think more. That hand of his squeezed her breast, filling his warm palm with her flesh and learning it. He caught the hard bead of her nipple between his fingers and teased it.
“Alrik!”
His breathing came in hot pants at her neck. Then she felt the wet sultry pass from his tongue as he licked a wet line up her neck. Chills spread over her arms and back until she shivered.
He pressed his cheek against hers, his breathing labored. “It means, Arianna, that I'm going to take you.” His hand squeezed her breast for emphasis. “I'm going to rock between your sweet legs until you come all around me, until I come.”
In a blink, his hand vanished from her breast, from her jaw, and cold air met her back. Breathing wildly, she spun around, dazed, to find him standing some distance away.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
For some reason all she could say was, “I did.”
“I'll call on you.”
He turned and left out the servant's door, leaving her standing there.
CHAPTER 13
Rosa Medina's shop, if one could even call it that, was crammed between two bigger buildings. Kearnyn paused for a moment outside. He told himself it was to make sure he had all the proper items with him, but he knew that was a lie.
Straight up truth—Rosa was gorgeous. Not pretty, not beautiful, not sexy, but straight-up fucking gorgeous. The kind of natural, makeup-less beauty that stunned a man, kept his eyes riveted like some kind of stalker. Yeah, that's what he'd be if he wasn't careful.
After seeing her for the first time and raveling his tongue back up from the floor, he'd thought of asking her out. But then after following her to ask her if she'd work for Telal, he realized quickly she'd rather date a dead snail. She looked at him like he was repulsive, like he'd start beating her at any moment.
Damn, that had been a slap to a face. He'd always had a big body, was just how he was built. But damn it all if seeing her look at him like some kind of freak didn't twist his ass hairs. Shit. It's not like he'd have a chance anyway. Even if he had a “normal” body like Telal or anyone else. She had the kind of face that made men write poetry and start wars for.
With a grimace, he turned the handle to the sound of wind chimes and ducked inside. He had only a few seconds to look around before he saw her. She finished shelving some bottles behind a counter with a cash register on it then came around with a smile, which died once she saw him. Her pupils dilated in a response he understood well, that he'd seen in many faces before—fear.
Shaking his head, he stepped forward and held out his hand. “Kearnyn MacTafferty. Telal's sent me to supervise over the work.”
She cocked her head at his hand as if he might suddenly make a move to strangle her. Slowly, she stuck her hand in his and just as quickly retracted it. Oh well, he held it long enough for him to feel just how soft her skin was. God, he was a creep.
“I didn't know I'd need supervision.”
He shrugged. “Telal has never worked with you before. He's a precise man, no room for error with him. Don't mind me, I'll just stand in that background. You'll hardly notice I'm here.”
“Like that's possible,” she said under her breath. With a brisk shake of her head, she motioned for him to follow her into a back room.
He had to stoop low as he walked through a partition of colored beads. “Did the shipment of daggers arrive?”
She nodded to cases with Demuzi Manufacturing Inc.’s logo on it sitting next to the back door. “Just this morning.” She headed towards a box, then stopped, turned back to him, not meeting his eyes. “You can sit there if you want.”
Kearnyn saw the small chair she noted and almost groaned. The damn thing looked tiny. No way would his big body fit in that; it looked like a child's chair. He debated over just standing, which he preferred, but he already made her nervous, so he went to the small chair and sat in it. The back of it barely reached the middle of his back and barely held half his ass. He held in a sigh.
Her lips trembled with a smile. Sure enough, she did seem to relax. She went to a box and tried to lift it with a grunt. It didn't budge.
“Here let me.”
She took several steps back to make room for him so he could pick up the box. She must be delicate, the box hardly weighed more than a few sacks of potatoes. “Where do you want it?”
He followed her nod and set it on the table, then pulled off the top of the case for her and returned to his seat like a good little boy. She went to the case and started pulling some of the daggers out when she stiffened, then shuffled around to the other side of the work table so she faced him. That was fine with him, he preferred it this way. He could watch her. Creep.
“So what do you call yourself, a witch?”
She spoke as she started pulling different items out of jars and cabinets. “I practice witchcraft. My powers come from my blood. We loosely use the term 'witch'. After the Salem witch trials in America we started using the term 'practitioner' because it sounded much more innocent to those who didn’t understand.”
Kearnyn sat back in his seat to watch her work, but that only scooted his ass further off the chair, forcing him to sit damn near erect. He stifled a sigh; he'd lived through worse things than an uncomfortable chair.
He kept quiet as he watched her work. She moved methodically: opening a thick leather tome to a certain page, grabbing oils and magnets. Today she wore another of those hooded robe-like dresses, only this one was yellow. He liked the look, the color looked amazing on her. Her darker skin and black hair only made the yellow glow around her in perfect contrast.
“Why do you watch me?” she said in a soft voice.
Kearnyn hid his surprise by looking down at his feet. “Why are you scared of me?” he countered.
She dropped the dagger in her hand; it landed on the table with a loud clang. “I...I am not afraid of you.” She grabbed the dagger in a fist and set her jaw as she got back to work. Her dark eyebrows pulled down into a furrow.
“Your actions show otherwise.” Why was he pursuing this? She looked like a Mayan goddess and he looked like a steroid-junkie meat head. Yet, even as he thought that he knew he wanted to know. Really wanted to know. Hell, maybe under her fear there was the slimmest chance she'd let him take her out. He almost laughed. Yeah, right.
“I am not afraid of you,” she said again, her voice a bit stronger.
For some reason he felt the need to push her. He wanted to hear the words from her soft pretty lips. Maybe because he was a glutton for punishment, or maybe actually hearing the words would make his mind shut her off from his thoughts like it should. He stood, and just as he expected, she took a step back, her eyes jumping to his, wide and alert.