“You’d be surprised at what I like,” he answered with deliberate challenge.
Té lifted her chin. “And you think you’ll be able to keep your hands off of me if I let you take me to this thing?”
“No’ really,” he said with a shrug, “but I’m sure as hell going to try. Until you’re ready. And then you had better be prepared, because I want you so fucking bad, there’s no way in hell it’ll be easy.”
Setting her brush down on the antique dresser, Té walked back to the bed and wrapped her arms around the sturdy foot post. She stared straight at him, feeling as if she’d fallen into a strange, intoxicating dream. “That big, eh?”
“Yeah, I am,” he said with so much confidence she actually believed him. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask just how big, when he stood before her, his voice a low, rumbling growl of intent. “I want to make you come so hard that you cry. Scream. Claw. Beg. ‘Til you can barely breathe. You’ve been waiting for someone to release that insatiable, wild, cock-hungry little animal inside o’ you—but you dinna have to wait anymore. So you better be ready, beautiful, because from what I hear, it can be hard when a cunt as tight as yours is crammed full o’ dick for hours on end.”
She nearly fell on her backside as she tried to stumble away from him, saved only by the quick hands pulling her hard against his chest, his dark eyes smoldering, blazing down into her shocked gaze. “So dinna—for even one bloody second—think of running on me, because once I get it in you, Té, that’s where I stay.”
“Is that a threat?” she demanded as he just as quickly let her go. She watched through wide eyes as he pulled on his T-shirt and gathered up his leather jacket and boots.
At the door he stopped, turning to look back at her, one of the first genuine smiles she’d yet to see transforming the harsh lines of his sexy-as-hell face. “That? No, lass—that you can consider a promise.”
Chapter Nine
The tension in the car was so thick, Kieran felt as if he could feel it moving through his lungs as he breathed. It was an added element to the air, full and heavy. He felt strung out on lust, and to make matters worse, Té sat beside him wearing nothing more than a scrap of transparent, strapless black silk. The dress was so see-through, it was actually nothing more than an elegant cover-up for the matching strapless bra and panties set he could glimpse beneath—evocative shadows of lace and skin nearly driving him mad.
She’d walked out of Evan and Lach’s guest room not twenty minutes ago, wearing the pitiful excuse for a dress, and he’d damn near come in his friggin’ pants. Hell, he was still hard, shifting uncomfortably in the too small seat of Evan’s Jag and the too tight crotch of his boxers.
He’d taken one look at her and told her to turn her ass around and go finish getting dressed. Of course, being Té, she’d given him a very sexy, very female smile and informed him she was wearing the Betsey Johnson, or whatever the hell she’d called it, with or without him. Then she’d turned to walk out the front door, treating him to an exceptional view of her perfect little heart-shaped backside, and he’d found himself wanting to blister those lush cheeks and fuck her senseless all at same time.
Instead, he’d stalked to the car, opened her door, and kept his bloody mouth shut, allowing his temper to simmer on a low, roiling boil. The only words she’d spoken were to give him the address of the gallery where they were headed, and then she’d settled into an equally heavy silence of her own.
And they’d been like that ever since, the tension slowly grinding away at their resolve, wrenching the taut lines of their composure to a snapping point.
Té shifted her legs, crossing them, and his eyes moved to the smooth length of her calves as if he needed the mere sight of her to exist. From the edge of his vision, he saw her small smirk, and realized she knew exactly what the damn dress was doing to him. Feeling ornery and confined, and generally pissed, he decided to push her a little as well.
Looking straight ahead, he kept his voice calmly mellow, one hand curled casually around the Jag’s steering wheel. “You know, Té, I canna help but wonder if you wore this little get-up tonight understanding full well that all I’d be able to think about was what I’d be doing to you—after I rip it off.”
Her shoulders stiffened, but her eyes remained glued to the straight line of the road ahead. “You won’t be ripping anything, McKendrick. And for your information, my aunt gave me this get-up as a gift.”
“No shit?” he laughed. “Aunt Ellie had a penchant for the risqué, huh?”
She shot him a hot glance. “What she had was an understanding of the value of a woman’s sensuality, and she wasn’t afraid to let people know it. She bought me this for my birthday the week before she died.”
He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, suddenly feeling like a complete jerk. “Why do you always say just the right thing to make me feel like an ass?”
Her smile was soft and smooth. “I think you take care of that all on your own, Kieran—or maybe you just make it so easy.”
“Touché, sweetheart, and before you rip my heart out, I’ve no’ told you how beautiful you look in it.”
“Rip your heart out?” One slim golden brow arched. “And here I was, unaware you even had one.”
“A little hard, but aye—it’s there,” he muttered, slanting a shuttered glance in her direction.
“Actually, I thought you wanted me to take it off,” she countered, smile going sugary sweet.
His own smile returned, boyishly hopeful. “Are you offering?”
The soft snorting noise sounded ridiculously cute coming from her. “You wish.”
He grinned again, that damn dimple in his cheek casting him in an easy, teasing light that made her heart do this funny little stutter. “Only because I dinna want every other prick tonight getting the same view as me. But I will enjoy taking it off you later, have no doubt of that.”
“Hmm…remember what I said about running hot and cold?”
His hand flexed on the leather wheel, though his manner remained easy. “Aye.”
“You should give it some thought.”
A sin-packed chuckle filled the warm interior. “Maybe, but then I’d rather think about fucking you.”
Té nodded slowly. “See? That’s what I mean. I think you’re trying to drive me crazy.”
“Yeah? Well, it’s good to know I’m no’ the only one going crazy here.”
She looked across the dark interior of the car, the downtown lights flashing through the window, painting the masculine perfection of his face with vivid, iridescent splashes of color. The beauty of him took her breath away every single time she looked at him, but that was far from the source of her attraction—and she was honest enough with herself to admit that when it came to this man, she was seriously attracted.
Dangerously tempted.
There was something in him that simply called to her. That brooding darkness, tempered by his wry sense of humor. The desperate struggle he waged to resist her, while snatching each opportunity to seduce her with an almost single-minded purpose. The loneliness in those beautiful black eyes, that need to connect with a woman and be completely accepted for what he was. His incredible sense of honor and duty, and the sexy-as-hell spark of intellect always burning bright in that midnight gaze. It was an irresistible package—and damn it, she didn’t want to resist.
It suddenly came to her again, as it had when he’d left her today, the knowledge that she would resent this for the rest of her life—resent leaving without getting her fill of this magnificent man, or Warlock, or whatever the hell he was.
She wiggled in her seat, feeling the dress shimmer across her thighs, and for once in her life, she was happy with who she was. Growing up, she’d always longed for Evan’s height, the simple grace of her figure, her unshakeable confidence. It was Ellie who had tried so hard to convince her that although she was so different from her older sister, she was in no way less special.
Palo had tried to further his close frie
nd’s cause by helping Té to find her own confidence, to recognize her unique beauty, as different from Evan’s as it might be. But even Palo hadn’t completely succeeded, though he did manage to show her that she could be short and curvy and still look sexy. Not a knockout like Evan, maybe, but a woman who could command attention if she wanted. Lexi had tried to kill that in her, but she was going to be damned before she let him win.
And maybe this sexy-as-sin Scot at her side was just what she needed to get the job done.
Warlock or not, she wanted him—arrogance, curses, and all. And God only knew she’d probably regret it later, but she was going to take him. She didn’t have any other choice.
Yeah, she needed to get her fix of him and fast, because soon she was going to have to bail. The sooner the better actually, now that she knew Evan was pregnant. She’d never be able to forgive herself if the evil stalking her somehow followed her here and threatened her family. It seemed incredibly paranoid, but she just couldn’t shake the strange “feeling” that this was all going to turn out badly in the end.
But before she left, she needed…had to get the sexy stud sitting beside her the hell out of her system. If she didn’t, there was every possibility she’d go out of her freaking head from the unsatisfied hunger twisting her stomach into painful knots of desire. It seemed a simple enough request, except for the fact that he kept running from her.
And damn it, she was tired of letting him get away.
Turning on her hip, Té looked at him across the dark interior of the Jag, loving the way the bright lights continued to illuminate his face and hair through the car window. Her head cocked to the side as she studied him, drinking in all the delicious details that made him so appealing, feeling drunk on his rugged beauty. Nibbling on the corner of her bottom lip, she finally said, “I understand you have rules.”
“Rules about what, darlin’?” he asked, slanting her a sideways glance.
She touched her tongue to the bow of her top lip and he groaned beneath his breath. “About things that can and can’t happen between Magicks and mortals.”
He swallowed, his strong throat working, tendons bunching, begging for the press of her lips. “Aye.”
She sent him a wickedly provocative smile that shot straight down his spine, only to curl around his balls and shoot up through the core of his cock in a jaw-clenching explosion of need. He ached. His head. His sac. His blasted prick. She was turning him into one throbbing, tortured mass of pain and physical need…and unnatural hunger.
“Don’t you know that some rules are made to be broken?” she asked in a conversational tone, while the cradle of her arms pushed her lush breasts together in a way that made him want to drool. The sound of her voice licked across his skin, and he ground his teeth together to keep from releasing a telling moan. Saephus only knew what the wicked lass would do if she knew what hell he was in. Damn, she was ruthless enough as it was.
“These rules,” he finally muttered through his teeth, fighting the urge to rip that insubstantial scrap of silk off her blasted body right then and there, just so he could feast on those luscious tits in all their bountiful glory, “serve a purpose that canna be thrown away so carelessly, lass. Can you imagine what my kind could do if we dinna have honor restrictions placed upon us? Any Warlock could have you stripped and spread, his cock rammed between your legs with no more than a thought, and there’d be naught you could do about it. And when he was finished with you, he could take the memory from you with equal ease, and leave you wondering why you ache and have no recollection of a man. This isna child’s play, Té.”
Her eyes narrowed, the blue so dark they looked near as black as his. “Is there a rule against sleeping with non-Magicks?”
He gave a sharp, agitated twist of his neck. “Gnach.”
“Excuse me?”
“Non-Magicks, they’re called gnach.”
“How lovely,” she drawled, voice oozing with sarcasm, thinking it sounded less than flattering.
His head turned and his eyes drilled into her with a piercing intensity, spearing straight through to her soul, stroking her desire until she could have sworn she heard it purr. And she could only thank God that the gorgeous ass returned his eyes to the road before she made such an embarrassing sound, knowing the last thing his ego needed was more fuel for the fire.
“Until recently, there were some restrictions, but they’ve since been lifted. So, to answer your question, no, there are no rules against it. The Magicks are not a racist people. We find ourselves no better than others, and would never think to dictate who a Witch or Warlock can love. The laws that existed were thought to be for the protection of the gnach. Though, there are some natural laws of nature that make certain things…difficult.”
If not damn near impossible.
“Difficult? Sounds like an easy out to me. What relationship isn’t difficult, whether it’s between Magicks or gnach or friggin’ pussycats? That’s the nature of the beast, Kieran. If something’s worth having, you can sure as hell bet it isn’t going to be easy to get—or keep.”
He shifted in his seat, his hand reaching between his hard, long-muscled thighs to rearrange his thick, angry dick, and she felt her mouth go swiftly dry at the gripping sight of his hand on his crotch. “I was no’ exaggerating when I said I willna be easy for you to take, lass. So be mindful of just what you’re tempting me with.”
Té shook her head, trying to regain her focus. “For such a clever guy, you can say the most ridiculous things.”
His mouth twisted with humor. “Are ya questioning my size, then?” he drawled around a smoky chuckle. The fingers of his left hand flexed, stroking the mouthwatering bulge of his cock beneath the fine cloth of his pants.
“No,” she said around a small laugh. “Not just yet. But the ‘beautiful’ part is starting to get a little rich, don’t you think?”
The look he shot her as he pulled into a narrow side street beside the gallery was one of genuine shock. “You dinna believe you’re beautiful?”
She groaned beneath her breath, fidgeting with the hoop in her brow. “It’s uh, nice of you to say so, but there’s really no need,” she said with perfect honesty while he just shook his dark head in disbelief. “Really, Kieran, I’m quite aware of what I am.”
An interesting subject, Palo always said. His candor while they worked together had made it so much easier to model for him when he’d asked. There’d been no pressure to be something she wasn’t, to live up to the expectations she’d always set for herself but could never achieve. Evan was always going to be prettier, taller, skinnier…but Té felt she’d finally grown up enough to say what the hell. Palo had helped her to see—through the talent of his lens—that even though she may have scored the average height, fleshy curves, and quiet shyness from the family gene pool, there was something in her worth celebrating.
And as he parked the sleek Jag, coming around for her door, she couldn’t help but wonder if Kieran honestly felt the same.
* * * * *
They stood in the main viewing room, a small raised area at the back of the gallery where a show’s spotlight items were most often displayed. To Té’s surprise, that was where they found her photographs, the ones for which she’d modeled. What was even more surprising was her sexy Warlock’s reaction.
His eyes blazed as he moved from photo to photo, the tasteful black and white nudes never showing anything more provocative than the gentle swell of a breast or the rounded curve of her hip, but blatantly erotic in their use of shadow and form. “Bloody hell,” he growled beneath his breath. “I should blister your little backside for this, Té.”
She couldn’t help but feel a warm, soothing flood of relief at his outraged expression. Outraged, but in no way frightening—such a vast difference from Lexi’s strange, imbalanced fury when she’d taken him to the first showing in Chicago. With a wry smile, she said, “I tried to warn you that you shouldn’t have come.”
One black brow cocked up, dark eyes t
houghtful as he studied her smiling face. “We’ll see how funny you think this is when I spend tonight walking around here with a fucking pole in my pants.”
Her eyes dropped to his heavy crotch, and she licked her lips, feeling unbearably tempted. “You. Can’t. Do. That. Here.”
Kieran made a masculine sound of disbelief. “You drag me to a bloody roomful of naked pictures of your beautiful ass, and you didna think I’d be hard the entire time?”
He watched as she shrugged her bare shoulders, shaking her head, the soft lighting playing over the silky sheen of her hair in a sensuous caress, glinting off the little ring of silver in her brow. “First of all, I didn’t drag you here, remember? And, to be perfectly honest, considering your reputation, I didn’t expect you to be so…um…affected by a couple of photographs.” She shot him a considering look. “I mean—think about it, Kieran. I’m hardly bombshell material. Palo’s the one who makes them so incredible. I seriously think the man could make a sheep look good.”
He would have thought she was shitting him, if it weren’t for the open honesty in her expression. He didn’t get it. How could someone so outrageously sexy be this clueless about her appeal? Saephus, she was so intoxicating he could hardly think straight around her—could barely pump sufficient blood to his brain because it was always rushing to his damn dick.
“Aye, the man is talented,” he agreed. “But it’s the subject that makes these so fucking good.” He did a slow turn, dark eyes taking in all twenty-four photos. Looking back at her, he said, “That must’ve been one hell of a photo shoot.”
“Is that jealousy I hear in your voice, Kieran?” she gasped with mock alarm, fully expecting him to deny such a “human” fault.
But he surprised her with a low, heartfelt, “Aye.”
Té watched him from beneath her lashes, feeling one more wall crumble, knowing she was soon going to be utterly defenseless where this man was concerned. Shaking her head, she answered with as much honesty as he’d given. “It was actually quite comfortable, but then women aren’t exactly Palo’s thing, if you know what I mean. I think that helped me to be able to relax as much as I did, plus the fact that he was such a good friend of Ellie’s.”
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