“Ah, you mean, with a hand?”
“Yeah.” He swallowed. “Weird sexual hang-up.” He let out a long, ragged breath. “I did this for you. Not me.”
Closing her eyes, Serena rested her forehead against his chest. “Why?”
“Because you needed it.”
“I could have given myself an orgasm if I needed it that badly.”
“Not one like that,” he said, with more than a little satisfaction, and she wrenched her arm from beneath him just enough to punch him in the shoulder.
“Seriously.”
“I was serious.” When she punched him again, he heaved a sigh. “You needed the connection between two people.” He snorted out a laugh. “My brother Shade says that if you pay attention, really listen, you will know what a female needs. I always thought he was full of it.”
“Shade?”
“Nickname.”
She nuzzled his neck, taking in his musky male scent. “Like Wraith?”
“Kind of.”
She braced a palm against his breastbone and pushed back a little. “How are you feeling?”
His hand curled around hers, and he brought it up to kiss her knuckles. “Better, thanks to you.”
“You said you’d been ill like that before. What was it? Are you sick?”
“Nothing to worry about.” He pulled away, and the temperature in the room seemed to drop.
“I am worried.”
“Why?” Josh sat back against the bed, feet flat on the floor and forearms braced on his spread knees. His heavy-lidded gaze was wary. “Why would you worry about a complete stranger?”
“We’re hardly strangers now.”
He stared at her. “You know what I mean.”
“No, I really don’t.” She shifted onto one hip and smoothed her skirt out, more for something to do with her hands than because she was worried about wrinkles. “We haven’t known each other long, but we’ve been through some pretty intense stuff. More than most people go through together in a lifetime. I like you, Josh. A lot more than I probably should.”
He cursed, which confused the hell out of her.
“What is wrong with liking you? Would you rather I hated you?”
“No. I need you to like me—” He cursed again. “I mean, shit. Just, shit.” He threw his head back and stared at the ceiling. “Just stop worrying about me, okay?”
“Why wouldn’t I worry about you?”
“Because it’s stupid,” he snapped. “I don’t need your concern. I get enough shit from my brothers.”
“Stupid? Shit? I’m giving you shit by taking care of you?” He didn’t answer, and anger roared through her. “I get that you had a horrific childhood, but you have people who care about you now, and you should be grateful.”
“You don’t know anything about my life, and you don’t want to.”
“How dare you?” She scrambled to her feet. “How dare you dismiss what I feel, as though it’s nothing?”
He let out a long-suffering sigh, as though this was all just so much inconvenience for him. “I didn’t ask you to feel anything for me.”
“Well, excuse me for being human.” She whipped open the door. “I’ll just go, since I’m stupid and my worry is such a bother to you.”
Josh cursed. “Serena, wait—”
But she didn’t hear the rest, partly because she’d slammed the door, and partly because her pulse was pounding so hard in her ears that it blocked out everything else.
Everything but the hurt.
Eleven
The knock at Gem’s apartment door came right on time. The table was set, the rosemary pork loin and oven-roasted potatoes were almost done, and dessert, a homemade pineapple upside-down cake, sat on the counter, looking all glazy and perfect. Kynan wouldn’t know what had hit him.
Nerves made her palms sweat as she walked to the front door. She’d put on her most conservative but sexy clothes—a flared, above-the-knee black skirt with a subdued skull-and-bones design at the top of the slit in the back, a creamy, sheer lace top, and chunky-heeled, ankle-high boots.
She was going to make him eat his rejection.
Her resolve almost flew out the window when she saw him. He looked hot, as usual, dressed in worn jeans, a blue sweater, and the leather bomber. His spiky hair was wet and he smelled like outdoorsy soap.
God, she wanted to jump on him, take him down to the floor, and ride him twice before dinner. Resisting the urge to fan herself, she ushered him in.
“Wow,” he said, as he stepped into the entryway. “You look nice.” He sniffed the air. “Something smells good.”
“Pork loin.” She led him to the kitchen. “Something to drink? Beer? Wine?”
“I don’t drink anymore.”
She drew up short as she reached for the fridge door. “Oh. Okay.” She didn’t drink, either. Not much, anyway, and she figured he was thinking that as he eyed the tattoos that circled her wrists, ankles, and neck. The magically enchanted designs prevented her demon half from rearing its evil head when she was angry or upset, but alcohol reduced her ability to control the demon inside and negated the power of the tattoos.
She turned around slowly, drew an appreciative breath as Kynan braced a hip on the counter and crossed his feet at the ankles. She let her eyes drop for just a second, to his slim h*ps and long, muscular legs, and then, with a shake of the head to bring her back into focus, she said coolly, “So, are you going to tell me why you left with the Army that day?”
“No small talk, huh?”
“No point in it.”
He blew out a long breath and looked up at the ceiling. “Remember how I told you I needed to find myself again?”
She nodded. “Before your Army buddies broke in, you said you were going back to The Aegis.”
“That was the plan, but the Army wanted me back. They told me they thought I was part of some prophecy.”
“Tayla mentioned something about that,” she snorted. “Do you know how cryptic prophecies are? And how often they don’t come true?”
“Yeah. I know. But I needed to find out why they thought I was involved, and if the fallen angel thing was true.”
“ ‘Fallen angel thing’?”
He met her gaze. “Apparently I have a fallen angel perched in my family tree. From way back. Probably Biblical times.”
Well, that was kind of cool. “So the Army thinks this is important?”
“That’s why they wanted me back. They didn’t really give me a choice.”
“Oh, come on,” she scoffed. “You’d have gone anyway. You and your hero complex.” It was a bitchy thing to say, but he just shoved his hands into his jeans pockets and nodded.
“I deserved that.”
“You more than deserved it.” So much for keeping her temper in check. “How could you do that to me? I mean, I get why you left, but how could you tell me you want me and then turn around and send a kiss-off message through Runa? You couldn’t do it yourself? What kind of chickenshit move was that?”
“The kind of move that sends you straight to some other guy,” he snapped.
“And you wanted that… why?”
Suddenly he was in front of her, his hands clamping down on the kitchen island behind her, penning her between his body, his arms, and the counter.
“I was in a really bad place. I missed the hell out of you, and I figured that if you moved on, I could concentrate on what I needed to do. But I should have known better, because I couldn’t think about anything but you.” He emphasized his words with a slow grind of his pelvis against her belly. “The idea that another man might have been making love to you killed me.”
“Good.” She tilted her head to look at him. “You hurt me.”
He lowered his mouth to hers. “I’m sorry,” he said against her lips, and a shock of heat sizzled all the way to her core. “I’m so sorry.”
Tentatively, he kissed her, but she didn’t kiss him back. At least, not until he swiped his tongue over her bottom lip while pushing his h*ps into hers, making her gasp and open up to him. Instantly, he penetrated her mouth, the hot, wet slide of his tongue against hers forcing her participation.
A slow burn heated the blood in her veins, loosened her up so that when he dragged his mouth along her jawbone and down her neck, she threw her head back and thawed completely.
“More?” he murmured against her skin.
All she could manage was a soft, “Mmm-hmm.”
Her breath caught as he swept her up and spun around to plant her butt on the table between the plates and the candlesticks.
Roughly, he shoved her skirt up around her waist and then unbuttoned his jeans. He didn’t release himself, instead turning his attention to yanking off her panties. They tore when they caught on one of her boots, but she didn’t care. He did that to her, made her forget everything except how she felt when he was touching her.
Needing closer contact, she gripped his shoulders, but he caught her wrists in one of his large hands and stretched her arms over her head. He hooked his other arm behind her waist and bent her back, dragged his tongue from her throat to where her shirt gaped open between her br**sts as he lowered her to the table.
He looked at her, the raw hunger and flickering candlelight making his eyes flash. “I’m going to do you right here on the table, Gem. Can you handle that?”
“Yes,” she moaned, and tightened her thighs around his h*ps so her core fit tight against his cock, which had been freed from its denim prison. She could handle anything he dished out. She’d have sex with him anytime, anywhere, in any way he wanted to do it.
Later, she’d chastise herself for being such a pathetic doormat, but right now she just wanted to revel in how he made her feel. And right now, he was feeling her arms, sliding his fingers down the sensitive insides until he reached her rib cage. Tingles shivered over her skin, and they only intensified when he unbuttoned her shirt to expose her braless br**sts to his gaze and his hands.