Embrace of the Damned (8 page)

She cast him an irritated glance. “Did you just call me
woman
a minute ago?”

He rubbed his hand over his mouth. The scent of her was driving him insane and the warmth radiating from her body only compounded it. He’d done an excellent job of suppressing his lust over the centuries, but there was something special about this woman that made it hard to control.

He didn’t answer her question. He figured it was rhetorical. Most modern women didn’t like being called that, but he wasn’t a modern man. That was clearly evidenced by the thoughts he was having now, the slip of his gaze over the swell of her breasts and the flare of her hips.

He wanted her clothes off her. He wanted her beneath him, his cock inside her.
Right now
.

He closed his eyes, his body going tight. “You should move away from me.”

She turned toward him, closer to him,
fuck it all
. “Why?”

“Can’t you just do as you’re told?”

She huffed out a breath, dropping the hand with the ice pack to her side and putting her other hand on her hip. “No, actually, I’m not really the type to bend to a man’s every command.”

He stared at her, the curve of her hip, the press of her breasts against her sweater. Her brown eyes were flashing with temper and that only made them more beautiful. He’d developed superhuman control where women were concerned
over the centuries, but Jessa was shredding it like tissue paper in a tornado. She didn’t understand the danger, had never met a man like him.

“Back away, Jessa,” he growled.

She shifted and leaned in toward him.
“No.”

The slim tether he had on his control snapped. He lunged at her, sweeping her up in his arms. She yelped and dropped the bag of ice, but he barely noticed it.

He wanted her. On the bed.
Naked
. Not in that order.

He pulled at the hem of her shirt. “I warned you to get away from me.”

“What are you doing?” There was a note of alarm in her voice, but the note of musk in her scent said she wasn’t exactly scared—not totally. That note of musk only made him need her more.

He cupped her face in his hands, forcing himself to stop tearing at her clothes. “It’s been a very long time since I was with a woman and
I want you
. You, above all others. If you don’t want me touching you, get the fuck out of this room and away from me
right now
.”

She went very still, staring up into his face with wide eyes.

“Last chance,” he gritted out.

The scent of her was strong now, though he could clearly see the conflict on her face. She wanted him, but knew she shouldn’t. If he were a gentleman, he’d back away right now. Except he wasn’t a gentleman; he was an immortal Viking who hadn’t touched a woman in a thousand years.

“Are you sure?” he managed to force out.

She gave him an almost imperceptible nod.

What was she doing? She’d wanted so badly not to give in to him and here she was, giving in to him. Worse, her body was humming with need. There was no way she could say no. Not now. Not with his hands on her and that look in his eyes—like she was every Christmas he’d never had, like he would die if he didn’t get to touch her. Her libido had trumped her mind.

All that mattered right now was his hands on her body. Everything else was going to have to wait until later.

With a growl of pure lust, he yanked her around and dragged her to the bed. His fingers worked to free her clothes the moment he tossed her down. “I want you bare,” he breathed against her mouth. “I want your skin on mine.”

She wanted that, too, wanted more than that. She wanted her hands sliding over the warm, hard muscle of his chest and arms, desired his body flush up against hers, hot and intimate.

Her fingers caught in his shirt, finding the hem and yanking upward, as desperate to find bare flesh as he. Her hands slid over his muscled stomach and he groaned at the touch of her fingers. Her breath caught at the white crisscross of ancient scars, her fingers tracing a couple of them. It made sense he had them, but they were still jarring—so deep, so brutal, such blatant evidence of his violent existence.

“You’re making me crazy,” he murmured. “I’m trying to hold myself back from you, but you’re making it hard.
A taste.
That’s what I need. Just a taste.”

“You can take more,” she breathed against his lips.
Please.

She pushed her sweater over her head and he tossed it to the floor. Next came her jeans, off and discarded. Now she was clad only in her black bra and underwear. Pausing, he leaned back and seemed to soak in the sight of her, as though memorizing the lines of her body. A moment later and his ferocity returned. He came down over her, forcing her thighs to spread and slipping his hand between them. She let out a shuddering breath of surprise mixed with arousal as his fingers found all the places where she was hot and excited through the thin panel of her underwear.

He stroked his thumb over her clit through the slick fabric, back and forth until she wanted to scream. In no time the little nub became swollen, sensitive, wanting more of his attention. A little whimper escaped her throat as her need built. His touch excited her in ways no other man’s ever had. It had to do with his masterfulness, his aggressiveness, or maybe it was simply his sexual appetite—so great and so obvious.

“I remember this,” he rasped. “How a woman feels. I want to make you moan with pleasure, Jessa.”

She gasped as a powerful wave of sensation radiated through her. “I’m already there.”

Broder shuddered against her. “No. I want more from you.
More.
” He lowered his mouth to hers, almost kissing her. “You feel so good, so hot and sweet. I could get drunk on you. Let me make you come.”

Jessa shivered as his words rolled over her. “Oh, I don’t think you’ll have a problem with that, Broder.” Her voice came out breathless. He could probably do it in his sleep, or just by looking at her the right way. His hands on her made her feel close to catching fire. Every little movement he made rasped the silky material of her bra across her stiff, sensitive nipples. A slow, sweet ache began between her thighs.

His huge, muscular arms slid around her, his hands easing down her back to cup her buttocks. With a natural inclination she didn’t even think about, she wrapped her legs around his waist, pressing herself against the bulge in his jeans.

Broder’s head dropped to her collarbone as he groaned. “Jessa, you’re killing me.” His voice came out a low rasp, tortured sounding. Women must drop at his feet, yet he managed to sound as if she was the only woman in the world worth having.

He lifted his head, caught her gaze with his, and held it. The way he looked at her—with such intense need—made her stomach muscles clench with anticipation.

This was totally wild. Her entire world had exploded with craziness the moment he’d stepped into it. Yet that didn’t stop her body from needing and wanting the touch of this man, or the slow slide of her hand up to unhook her bra and fling it across the room.

No going back now.

He groaned in the back of his throat as her breasts fell free. Cupping one in his big hand, he rasped his callused thumb across the nipple, making her gasp with pleasure. She reached out to touch his chest, wanting to feel again the delicious bunch and pulse of the warm muscle under his shirt, but he grabbed her wrists—one, then the other—and pressed them to the mattress above her head. It made her spine bow, her body arching toward him, as if she was offering her breasts to him.

He took the offer, lowering his head to her nipple and sucking it into his mouth. She gasped as his hot tongue curled around it, sliding over every bump and ridge of the aroused peak. Pleasure radiated out from that point and engulfed her, sending her straightforward into a sexual haze that stole her cognitive ability. She felt drugged.

His tongue eased over the opposite nipple after thoroughly laving the first, while his hand slipped down over her stomach and found the soft hem of her underwear, then slid past it, seeking the tenderest part of her. His big hand explored her sensitive places, as though touching a woman for the very first time, with a thoroughness that left her panting. He explored every hill, every aching valley of her with his fingers, as though trying to memorize every inch.

His cock was as hard as steel and pressed into the outside
of her thigh, yet any attempt she made to touch him was denied, frustrating her. He wanted to touch her,
only
, for reasons that baffled and disappointed her.

Then he found her aroused clit and all other concerns disappeared. As he stroked her, his mouth moved from her breast, past her collarbone and chin, to her mouth. His lips hovered over hers.

At the last moment, seeing what he wished of her, she turned her face to the side.

This crazy sexual abandon she’d slipped into was one thing—but a kiss … it felt too intimate. A first kiss was a doorway, a promise of hope and, just maybe, of love to come. She knew the sentiment was old-fashioned, but that was how she felt. The rest of this was just hormones flaring. It was base, animalistic. A kiss was … emotional.

She wasn’t ready to share that much of herself with him.

He made a soft sound of disapproval, but didn’t press the issue. Apparently he had other things on his to-do list. Yanking her underwear down and off, his thick fingers slipped deep inside her, first one and then another.

Pleasure blossomed through her, unraveling her ability to think clearly, and she let out a long, slow moan. She would have given him anything in that moment if only he kept touching her that way.

“You are so beautiful,” Broder said roughly, staring down at her.

Her body clenched in near orgasm, wound up tight, then slowly untwisted as he thrust his fingers in and out of her. His thumb found her clit and applied just the right amount of friction and pressure. He meant to make her come, and he meant business. It was almost as if he was forcing it out of her.

Pleasure exploded from the center of her sex-starved body and rolled out, making her gasp and then moan. Tears pricked her eyes as her spine arched and ecstasy poured through her. She cried out, closing her eyes and turning her head away from his eyes.

He nestled his nose in the curve of her neck and thrust his fingers in and out of her, drawing it out, wringing as
much pleasure from her as he could possibly force from her body. She shuddered with waves of pleasure, the muscles of her sex pulsing and contracting.

When her climax had finally passed, Broder reached down and unbuttoned his jeans, pushing her thighs apart. He meant to take her right here, right now. She barely knew this man. Oh, she wanted him … but this was not right. Her desire for him had blinded her in the beginning, but now that the reality was here she knew she couldn’t do this.

Panic shot through her. She didn’t know this man. They had no condom.

This could not happen.

“You said you wouldn’t hurt me,” she whispered, now genuinely afraid. “You said you wouldn’t do anything I didn’t want you to do.”

He went still. After a moment he rolled away from her, sitting on the side of the bed with his head cradled in his hands.

She sat up slowly, feeling lethargic, drained from the powerful climax he’d given her.

Now that the heat of the moment had passed, she felt exposed. This wasn’t her gig, having intimate relations with men she didn’t know. It just wasn’t her.

“Look, I’m sorry. Normally I’m not a tease. I didn’t mean to be one today. It just happened.” She pushed a hand through her hair and pulled the sheet up to cover herself. “You touched me and lust took over. I couldn’t say no once you started touching me. I
should’ve
… I just couldn’t. Please forgive me.”

Catching the edge of the quilt, she rolled herself up into it. Broder didn’t move, didn’t say a word. After a moment, he simply stood up and left the room.

She stared at the closed door for a long time, trying to gain a handle on the moment. It seemed like she’d been doing that a lot lately.

She’d teased him and she’d teased him
bad
, by the looks of it. She wished she could say it was all his fault and she hadn’t had a choice in the matter. Of course that wasn’t true. He’d been the one to get aggressive, but she’d given him permission to touch her and had known full well what he’d
wanted from her. The lust had been mutual, but she just hadn’t been able to consummate it.

Pushing up from the bed and taking the quilt with her, she entered the bathroom. It was a huge room, much bigger than she’d presumed. There was an enormous shower and a huge corner tub, plus a sink with two basins. Plush brown and gold rugs covered the floor and a small dresser with towels graced one corner. She could live in here.

Apparently if one was stabbed in the soul with a demon sliver and damned to live for an eternity, at least one did it in style.

After securely locking the door, she dropped the quilt, and started the shower. She loved the water. It calmed her in the most stressful of circumstances. Today, she took her time, washing as much of the tension down the drain as she could. Broder had made it clear that she shouldn’t leave the house, so she guessed she needed to make herself at home.