Sweet Temptation Page 6

  I turn up the stereo, but my thoughts are louder.

  It’s like Anna’s a stray I stumbled upon, and she’ll be crushed by a damn car if I let her out of my sight. I’ve never met anyone so filled with bloody goodness. She practically glows. When I’m with her I feel . . . different. Lighter or some shit.

  I glance over at this girl, this naive Neph, void of ego, and I shake my head. We drive with the music blaring. I expected my playlist to be too hard-core for her, but she seems perfectly content, even humming along with some of the songs. When “Sex and Candy” by Marcy Playground comes on I see her listening intently. She meets my eye at the chorus, a splotchy blush running up her neck, before she quickly turns to stare out her window. I look forward again and grin, keeping an eye on the skies for evil whispering spirits.

  Although the landscape is boring, she stares out the windows like she’s never seen anything so beautiful. As if she’s on some incredible adventure with me. She’s clueless about the dangers. Even after I’ve told her, straight up, that she can’t fuck about with the Dukes. They are ruthless, evil bastards and they will kill her. She acts as if she’s safe with me. As if I can protect her from them.

  That causes some idiotic thing inside my chest to swell and strengthen.

  I think Anna Whitt is bad for my health.

  The thing is, as adorable as her innocence might be on the surface, it would be foolish of me to allow her to stay that way. She’s not open to being trained, other than a mention of wanting to learn how to hide her colors. She refuses to see the necessity of losing her virginity, or at least pretending not to be so good. It’s only a matter of time before the Dukes start sniffing around, but she just doesn’t get it. She has no self-preservation instinct. I have to help her out.

  But I have to be smooth about it. I have to win her over. For both our sakes, I need to shag her like mad by the end of this road trip.

  Anna will be my toughest conquest yet. From what I’ve seen so far, she’s the queen of self-control. A nun in training or some shite.

  There’s only one way to get a girl like Anna into bed before marriage, and I’m not looking forward to the amount of work it will require. She’s not the kind of girl who goes for the bad boy, so I must be on my best behavior. But in order for her to appreciate my best behavior, she needs to think she’s causing some positive change in me. I’ll need to make her think I’m letting her into the deep, dark places of myself. Essentially, I have to make Anna fall in love with me and believe I’m in love with her, as well.

  A twinge of guilt fills my bowels, but it’s fleeting, gone before my next breath. It must be done. Eventually she’ll thank me.

  Day one goes well, I think. And I manage to get her to agree on a single room at the motel instead of separate ones. She’s into me. Drawn against her will. And I gladly take advantage of it.

  I get comfortable on my bed, enjoying the way she stares at me when she doesn’t think I’m paying attention, and how easy it is to make her nervous when I play with my blade.

  After some uncomfortable chitchat, in which I talk about my childhood and Father’s horrible parenting—all true—I proceed to make her jealous with the texts I’m receiving from other girls, which is adorable. So far she’s playing directly into my hand, but her questions and need for knowledge eventually sidetrack my efforts. She seems fascinated that I’m always using my supernatural abilities. Her hatred of her Neph senses is baffling. She needs to be proud of her heritage, to understand the benefit of her extended senses. I go over and sit next to where she’s lying on her bed, and she gets skittish, trying to scoot away.

  “No, stay lying down,” I say, touching her arm. “I want to show you something.”

  I want to show her a lot of things, and I daresay she knows this by now. She narrows those little brown eyes at me, and I have to laugh.

  “Calm down, luv.” I find that I say “luv” a lot more since I moved to the States. American girls go crazy for it. Not sure it’s working on Anna yet, but it’s worth a try.

  “What are you going to do?” Her sweet voice and light Southern accent go straight to my crotch, and I’m glad she’s at an angle where she can’t see.

  “Nothing that will compromise your virtue and have Patti hunting me down. Now close your eyes.” I’d promised Patti I’d bring Anna home safely, with her virtue intact. I plan to keep only the first part of that promise, even though I quite like Patti. What neither of them realize is that Anna’s virtue is the very thing that will put her in danger.

  What I’m planning is a simple exercise to build her trust, to show her I’m more than a sex fiend. I want her to see that her senses can be pleasant. And maybe I want to touch her, just a small bit.

  At first I don’t think she’s going to play along. Then she lets out a huff and lies back.

  Good girl.

  But God, she’s stiff as a board.

  “Now, I want you to relax and concentrate on your sense of touch. I’ll be a good boy. I promise.”

  I am planning to be good.

  I watch as she exhales and relaxes. I can imagine the tingling she feels as she opens her nerve endings to full exposure. And I remember something cool that my Neph friend Marna once showed me when we were younger. Without touching any other part of her, I press my fingertip into the palm of her nearest hand.

  I smile when she gasps. “I can sense your fingerprint!”

  Wicked. Wait until she feels what’s next. I scoot down and take her foot into my hand. I watch Anna’s face soften with bliss as I knead and press my fingers against her sole. Then I move up to her ankle, and suddenly her eyes pop open as she wrenches her knees to her chest.

  What’d I do?

  “Wait,” she says. “Not my legs. They’re . . .”

  What is she going on about? “They’re lovely.” In fact, they’re killer.

  “No, please. I didn’t have time to shave this morning.”

  I throw my head back and laugh. Call me sick and twisted, but it takes a hell of a lot more than a little hair to bother me. Her paranoia is adorable, though.

  “All right, fine, no legs. But you’re missing out. I’m not through with you. Roll onto your stomach and relax again.”

  She obeys immediately, and I’m so relaxed I forget to mentally prepare myself for the sight of . . .

  “Mmm.” I don’t mean to moan. It just sort of slips out. But her arse . . . blimey, it’s fucking perfect. I bite down hard on my knuckle.

  “What?” she mutters into the pillow.

  “Oh, nothing.” Except I can’t think straight. “It’s just that you’ve got quite a nice little—”

  Damn, she moves quick. She’s glaring sharply and I hold up my hands. Little Ann can be feisty when she wants.

  “Sorry! A guy can’t help but notice. Truly—best behavior—starting now.” I want her to hurry and lie back down so I can stare at that arse again. This is far too fun.

  She rolls back over, slowly and warily, and then—hello, perfect bum. Would it be okay if I touch it? Just once?

  No. This is Anna Whitt. It would decidedly not be okay to touch the bum. I recognize that my self-control is unwinding bit by bit. I’m unaccustomed to looking and not touching. Sampling and not devouring. This moment is pushing my limits. I must stay calm, moving us to the next level. My voice comes out low and husky when I talk.

  “I need you to trust me and stay relaxed. I’m just going to raise your shirt a bit so I can get to your back.”

  Is she buying this? She doesn’t move, so I take that as permission to gently pull her shirt upward and expose her soft, creamy back. My breathing goes a bit wonky. Angel girl is letting me see her skin. She’s going to let me touch her. She’s trusting me.

  My fingers sink into the soft skin and muscle on her lower back, working slow circles.

  Holy Mary, I’m all but panting. Get it together, Rowe! This is the least sexual thing I’ve done in ages, and it’s turning me on more than a bloody van full of naked girls.<
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  I run my fingers across her back until she’s covered in goose flesh. She is reacting to me, and I need to touch her with more than just my fingers. My hands press down, massaging harder, gripping her waist in my hands. I need more.

  I try to shake the rising fog from my head, but it’s no use. My own sense of touch begins to open itself, my skin buzzing with neediness. She feels like silk.

  I need more.

  My hands go farther, past her satin bra, up to her shoulders. I might rip her shirt, and I don’t bloody care. I am nearly beyond thinking. Her pheromones and red aura encircle me, grip me.

  I am need.

  I am greed.

  And I take what I want.

  Her skin calls to me, and I’m above her, moving her hair aside and breathing in the warmth of her neck. I have to taste her or I think I will die—implode—explode—something terrible will happen.

  I home in on the spot under her ear, and my desperate lips finally touch her . . . this is my heaven. Her neck is heated, and she lifts her chin, allowing me to kiss further. Her body slightly twists, angling toward me. I open my mouth, dragging my tongue along the silk and salt and sweetness of her. Up to her jaw. And then she’s turning, her hands are in my hair, and she’s leading my mouth to hers.

  I am overwhelmed by this kiss. She must be using angel voodoo on me because I can’t think. I can’t. I’m trying, but all I can feel is her lips. I’m more lost to the world than I’ve ever been. I want to let go and never come back. Lose myself in her for eternity.

  I need more. I need all of her. Her stomach is so smooth. The satin of her bra is filled with a mouthful of flesh that’s sure to be the most succulent—

  Abruptly, Anna shoves me away and I feel as if I’ve been doused by fire.

  WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?

  Bloody hell, my heart is pounding like an amateur’s. I cannot let her know how freaked out I am.

  She’s panting. “You promised to be on your best behavior.” Her aura is a mix of grays and red. I’m suddenly furious we’re not still kissing. Why would anyone put a halt to such epicness?

  “You kissed me, Anna,” I remind her.

  “Well, you started it by kissing my neck.”

  Mmm, her neck. It’d been so warm and inviting. “True. I hadn’t planned that.”

  She paces the room, attempting to fix her hair, but she’s too angry and lustful. She’s shaking.

  “Why did you stop?” I ask.

  “Because you were moving on to other things.”

  What other things? Oh . . . I suppose my hand did wander a bit, didn’t it? “Hmm, moved too quickly. Rookie mistake.”

  Judging by the way she crosses her arms, it probably would have been best to keep that thought inside my head. I’m still not quite thinking straight. Why is she having this effect on me? And for the love of all things holy, why aren’t we still snogging?

  It was slightly amusing at first when she stopped us, but now that I know she’s serious, I’m starting to feel a rise of panic. My body has not and will not shut off or calm down. This could get ugly.

  “I can see you still want me,” I say. It’s true. She’s only being stubborn. Is this some kind of cruel angel punishment? Now she wants to be pissed off instead of lustful? “Oh. There it goes. Mad instead. Well, sort of. You can’t seem to muster a really good anger—”

  “Stop it!”

  “Sorry, was I saying that out loud?” She really hates when I read her colors, so I do it as often as possible. And right now it’s better to be cheeky than to let her know I’m frantic on the inside. My demand for relief is growing.

  “I can read people, too, you know.” Here she goes again with the feistiness. “Well, not you, but at least I have the decency not to notice, to give them some sort of emotional privacy.”

  No doubt, because she’s a bloody nun. “How very decent of you.”

  She grunts with frustration and throws a pillow at me. It’s probably the angriest she’s ever been in her life. I raise an eyebrow to see how much madder I can make her. “Pillow fight?”

  She wants to scream. I can see it in her rigid, huffing demeanor, but she takes a cleansing breath and deflates a notch.

  Nice trick. If only I could do that. I’ve got some parts that could use deflating.

  “Get off my bed,” she orders. “Please. I’m ready to go to sleep.”

  That’s a load of bollocks. She’s not tired. She’s as filled with passion as I am, but she’s too bloody good to embrace it. Her self-control burns me up. I want her to throw a wobbly and break things. Then pounce on me.

  But seriously. We should be naked.

  I get off the bed and wave an arm toward it. She climbs deep into the covers and puts her back to me. I try to bring her back to life by reminding her that I saved her from the plonker who drugged her at the party and almost stole her first kiss. But she doesn’t take the bait. Doesn’t leap from the bed and jump my bones. Doesn’t even turn to face me.

  Then I remember—I had her first kiss—that’s right, me, and I want to beat my chest like an ape.

  “So that’s it, then?” I say. My lust is still working at full-throttle-rocket mode, but there will be no countdown to launch. I’m torn between disbelief and a rising ache deep in my abdomen. It hurts like hell. It takes everything in my power not to be the caveman my father wants me to be and ravage this girl senseless. “I always wondered what it would feel like.”

  “What what would feel like?” She finally looks at me.

  “Rejection.” It would be humorous if it weren’t for the pain element. I’ve never felt this before.

  “What are you saying? That no girl has ever told you no?”

  She needn’t sound so shocked.

  “Not one,” I say. I won’t tell her I seek out those who show interest to begin with.

  “And what about you? Haven’t you ever stopped or said no to a girl?”

  Pfft! “Why would I do that?”

  “Lots of reasons,” she mumbles. “Never mind, just go to sleep. We have a long day tomorrow.”

  She rolls back over, making all sorts of ruckus as she settles. I’ve never had much cause to hate my lustful heritage. I’ve always been able to sate the beast. But at this moment all I want is this mad need for her body to disappear. It’s more than just pain now. It feels as if a black cloud is consuming me, fogging my mind and vision. I attempt to blink it away.

  I think about Anna’s last question, and suddenly my childhood mate Ginger’s face fills my mind. That awkward, terrible night when she hit on me in front of Blake comes rushing back. “I suppose I did refuse one, but she doesn’t count.” I’m babbling now, but talking seems to help. Will this feeling pass?

  “Why not?” she asks.

  “Because she was Neph.” My stomach tightens when I think of Ginger. She was my friend once. My closest friend.

  Anna says nothing, and I’m left standing there with a rather large problem. The feeling is not passing. I desperately need to have sex or I may have to curl into the fetal position and howl. I adjust myself while she’s not looking. How do regular blokes deal with this torture when they’re turned down all the time?

  “This must be the part where I take a cold shower?”

  Can’t she sense my need? Doesn’t she care at all that it feels as if I’ve been racked by a giant?

  Apparently not. “Good idea” is all she says.

  Cold. Hearted.

  I trudge stiffly to the bathroom and climb into the shower, but it does nothing for me. I cannot believe this is happening. I shouldn’t have lost control while we kissed. I should have taken my bloody time and gotten her so hot she was begging for more. How the hell did the little nun get the upper hand over me? I am reduced to showering with myself, which is an inadequate substitute for what I need. But then I remember the girl at the hotel desk who checked me in. Midtwenties. Bored out of her gourd. Completely hot for me.

  Brilliant.

  I dry myself and walk int
o our room stark naked, but she doesn’t even peek. The girl is infuriating. I quickly dress, find a room key, and open the door.

  Anna perks up from her bed. “Where are you going?”

  Look who suddenly cares. I frown at her, hoping she feels a bit of the pain and frustration I’m experiencing.

  “I have to work,” I say.

  “Have to? Or want to?”

  Anger and indignation rip through me. This girl has no clue, and she has the nerve to try to make me feel bad? She’s never feared for her life. She’s never given in to her dark side and then experienced the physical impossibility of ignoring it ever again. I cannot stand here and listen to her.

  “Why should that matter, Anna? I’m going now.”

  “Where will you go?” she all but shouts. She sounds a bit desperate, which gives me some amount of satisfaction.

  I’m glad to tell her, and I hope it makes her share a bit of my agony. “I’ll go visit the girl at the front desk, just as she suggested. So unless you’ve changed your mind . . . ?” I give her one last chance, and I watch as envy and sadness fight for space in her aura. But she only shakes her head.

  “Didn’t think so,” I mutter. Then I flick off the light and shut the door, checking to be sure it locks behind me.

  Her words ring in my ears, but I shake my head to rid myself of them. I enjoy my work most of the time. And tonight I definitely will.

  I walk with purpose down the pavement to the front office, where I can see the girl through the glass window. She’s on her mobile. When she catches sight of me her eyes go wide and she quickly hangs up, smoothing her curls down. She greets me with a big smile and a heavy Southern accent.

  “Hi there . . . Mr. Rowe, right? Everything okay?”

  “Yes. Just Kaidan, please.” I swish damp hair from my eyes. I’m not really in the mood for a detailed seduction. I’d prefer to make this quick, so I delve into my bag of douchery. “I’m trying to give my sister some time to herself in the room. Our grandmother just passed, and she’s taking it hard.”