Heart Of The Dragon. Gena Showalter

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      His brows winged up, and he blinked, broadcasting his shock at her easy compliance.

      “That easily?” he asked, suspicious.

      “I know when I’m beaten.”

      Darius used her stillness to his advantage and allowed more of his muscled weight to settle atop her. He braced her wrists above her head—something he obviously liked to do, since it was the third time he’d done it to her—causing her back to arch and her breasts to lift for his view.

      “You wish for me to bite you?” he asked, dead serious.

      Briefly she experienced confusion. Then she realized what he meant. Oh, my God. She had told him to bite her. Something dark and hot twisted in her stomach, something she had no business feeling for this man. An image of his straight white teeth sinking into her body and taking a little nibble filled her line of vision. Erotic and sexual; except…

      If he were a vampire, she’d just given him an open invitation to make her his next meal.

      “I didn’t mean it literally,” she managed to squeak out. “It’s just a figure of speech.” With barely a pause, she added, “Please. Get off me.” He smelled so good, so masculine, like the sun, the earth and the sea, and she was sucking in great gulps of that scent as if it were the key to her survival. He was beyond dangerous. “Please,” she said again.

      “Too much do I like where I am.”

      Those words echoed in her mind with such clarity her body offered a reply: I like where you are, too. She ran her teeth over her bottom lip. How did he do this? How did he make her feel strangely captivated and oddly entranced, yet fearful at the same time? He was quite possibly a bloodsucking vampire. He was also so sexy he made her mouth water. Made her ache in places she’d thought dead from disuse. Made her crave and fantasize and hunger.

       Get a hold of yourself, Grace. Only an idiot would lust after a man of questionable origins and even more questionable motives.

      What did he want from her? She studied his face, but found no hint of his intentions. His features were completely blank. Her gaze probed deeper, taking in the scar that slashed down his cheek, raised and puckered, interrupting the flow of his dark eyebrows. This close, she noticed the slant to his nose, as if it had been broken one too many times.

      He was darkly seductive. Dangerous, her mind repeated.

      That’s it, she realized reproachfully. That’s why I’m so attracted to him. I’m a danger junkie.

      “What did you do to your hands, woman?” he suddenly demanded. His features were no longer blank, but projected a fierceness that was beyond intimidating.

      “If I tell you,” she said, faltering in the face of that severity, “will you let me go?”

      His eyes narrowed, and he brought one of her palms to his mouth. Heated lips seared her flesh before the tip of his tongue flicked out, licking and laving the wounds. Electric currents raced through her arm, and she almost experienced an orgasm right then and there.

      “Why are you doing that?” she asked on a breathless moan. Whatever the reason, his actions were utterly suggestive, endearingly sweet, and she gasped at the deliciousness of it. “Stop.” But even as she spoke, she prayed he didn’t heed her command. Her skin was growing increasingly warm, her nerve-endings increasingly sensitive. A drugging languor floated through her, and God help her, she wanted that tongue to delve further, to explore deeper territory.

      “My saliva will heal you,” he said, his voice still fierce. But it was a different kind of fierce. More strained, more heated, less angry. “What did you do to your hands?” he asked again.

      “I climbed the walls.”

      He paused. “Why would you do such a thing?”

      “I was trying to escape.”

      “Foolish,” he muttered. One of his knees wedged between the juncture of her thighs. The ache in her belly intensified as their legs intertwined.

      He exchanged one hand for the other, swirling his tongue along the peaks and hollows, making her aware of all sorts of erotic things. The way his eyes flickered from ice-blue to golden-brown. The way his soft, silky hair fell over his shoulders and tickled her skin.

      If he planned to hurt or kill her, surely he wouldn’t concern himself with her comfort like this. Surely he would not—

      He sucked one of her fingers into his mouth. She moaned and gasped his name. He whorled his tongue around the base. This time, she moaned incoherently and arched up, meshing her nipples into his chest and creating a delicious friction.

      “That is better,” he said roughly.

      Her eyelids fluttered open. His expression taut, he held her hands up for her view. Not a single blemish appeared on the healthy, pink skin.

      “But—but—” Confusion overshadowed her pleasure. How was that possible? How was any of this possible? “I don’t know what to say.”

      “Then say nothing.”

      He could have left her sore and bruised, a punishment for trying to escape, but he hadn’t. She didn’t understand this man. “Thank you,” she said softly.

      He nodded, the action stiff. “You are welcome.”

      “Will you let me up now?” she asked, dreading—anticipating?—his response.

      “No.” He placed her left palm at her side, but held firm to the right. His fingers continued to caress and trace every line, as if he couldn’t stand to break contact. “What did your brother plan to do with the medallion?”

      Briefly she considered lying, anything to stop the flood of conflicting desires running rampant. Then, just as briefly, she considered not answering him at all. She knew instinctively, however, that he would not tolerate either from her and that would merely prolong their contact. So she found herself saying, “We’ve been over this before, and I still don’t know. Maybe he wanted to sell it on eBay. Maybe he wanted to keep it for himself, for his private collection.”

      Darius’s brow furrowed. “I don’t understand. Explain to me this eBay.”

      As she expounded on the concept of the online auction, he glowered furiously.

      “Why would he do such a thing?” Darius asked, genuinely perplexed. “Selling such an item to a stranger is the epitome of foolishness.”

      “Where I’m from, people need money to survive. And one way to make money is to sell our possessions.”

      “We need money here, too, yet we would never barter our most prized possessions. Is your brother too lazy to work for his dinner?”

      “I’ll have you know he works very hard. And I didn’t say he was going to sell it. Only that he might. He’s an auction addict.”

      Darius expelled a sigh and finally released her hand, bracing his palms on either side of her head. “If you mean to confuse me, you are doing a fine job. Why would your brother give you the medallion if he СКАЧАТЬ