Leopard's Kiss (Shadow Guardians) (Shadows Guardians Book 1) by Stephanie Rowe
Book: Leopard's Kiss (Shadow Guardians) (Shadows Guardians Book 1) by Stephanie Rowe
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Authors: Stephanie Rowe
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seduction.
He wasn't in her mind this time. Her response was entirely her own, falling wildly into the seductive spell he wove through her with only his kiss. She held on tight, her hand tangled in his hair as she leaned into him, kissing him back frantically. He pressed tighter against her, pinning her to the wall, angling his head to kiss her even deeper.
She needed more of him. She needed to get closer.
As if he'd heard her thoughts, he palmed her hips, and then slid his hands down her thighs. He grasped her knees, then lifted her legs so they were around his hips, still holding her upper body against the wall with his weight.
Yes. She locked her legs around his hips, shocked by the feeling of his erection pressed against the juncture of her thighs. It had been so long since she'd been in a man's arms, so long since she'd lost herself to a rush of desire and need, so long since she'd felt safe enough to feel so intensely that she couldn't think of anything else.
He was an assassin, but he was also so much more. He was potentially her guardian, and he was a deadly threat to anyone who tried to attack her. He'd saved her multiple times, and she knew that if someone broke into the safe house, the intruder would be dead before they could come close to her. In this moment, in his arms, she was safer than she'd ever been in her whole life.
He slipped his hand under the hem of her shirt, the heat from his palm searing hot against her side. Hell, Anya. His voice brushed through her mind, not intrusively, but rather as an intimate caress, a private secret just for her. I want to fuck you.
She jerked back, breaking the kiss. "Fuck me? Is that what you just said? You want to fuck me?"
His eyes were dark with lust, his hand spanning her ribs. "Yes."
She would have laughed at his unabashed confession if she weren't so offended by it. "I don't want to be fucked. Didn't you hear me before? Fucking me puts me in the same nameless, faceless category of a victim you kill."
He cupped her breast, making her squirm with need. "What's the right word? What do you want to hear? Tell me, and I'll say it."
"So, you can give me platitudes like you did when you said you were sorry my mother was murdered?" She pushed at his chest, trying to get him off her, but he didn't move. "That's not how it works. Words mean nothing. It's the intention behind the words that matter. You could have said absolutely nothing when I told you my mother had died, but if you'd silently brushed your finger across my cheek, offering me comfort in the only way you knew how, it would have meant something. Spewing out words you don't mean is like killing someone with a kiss. It's a lie, and it's meaningless. Now get off me!"
"You want me to care? Is that it?" He still didn't back off, and he slipped his finger beneath her bra, his thumb brushing over her nipple, sending shards of desire through her.
"Stop it!" She slapped at his wrist, and his hand stilled. "I'm not a machine, you dumb oaf! My mother is dead, Marjorie is dead, and Julia is missing. I'm barely holding it together, and I don't need you trying to feel me up because you need to get off. So stop preying on my emotional state and get off me!" Tears trickled from her eyes, streaming down her cheeks, but she couldn't stop them. "See what you did? You made me fall apart! I don't have time to cry! Damn you! Just damn you!" She slammed her fists into his chest, but he still didn't move away. "What do I have to do to get you away from me?" She let her head fall back against the wall in frustration. "What do I need to do?" she whispered, staring at the ceiling.
He said nothing.
For a long time, neither of them moved. She was still pinned against the wall by his body, his hands resting on her hips, her legs still around his waist, not because she wanted them there, but because she had nowhere else to put them. Finally, she looked at him. He was staring at her, his eyes dark and intense. "What?" she asked.
He wasn't in her mind this time. Her response was entirely her own, falling wildly into the seductive spell he wove through her with only his kiss. She held on tight, her hand tangled in his hair as she leaned into him, kissing him back frantically. He pressed tighter against her, pinning her to the wall, angling his head to kiss her even deeper.
She needed more of him. She needed to get closer.
As if he'd heard her thoughts, he palmed her hips, and then slid his hands down her thighs. He grasped her knees, then lifted her legs so they were around his hips, still holding her upper body against the wall with his weight.
Yes. She locked her legs around his hips, shocked by the feeling of his erection pressed against the juncture of her thighs. It had been so long since she'd been in a man's arms, so long since she'd lost herself to a rush of desire and need, so long since she'd felt safe enough to feel so intensely that she couldn't think of anything else.
He was an assassin, but he was also so much more. He was potentially her guardian, and he was a deadly threat to anyone who tried to attack her. He'd saved her multiple times, and she knew that if someone broke into the safe house, the intruder would be dead before they could come close to her. In this moment, in his arms, she was safer than she'd ever been in her whole life.
He slipped his hand under the hem of her shirt, the heat from his palm searing hot against her side. Hell, Anya. His voice brushed through her mind, not intrusively, but rather as an intimate caress, a private secret just for her. I want to fuck you.
She jerked back, breaking the kiss. "Fuck me? Is that what you just said? You want to fuck me?"
His eyes were dark with lust, his hand spanning her ribs. "Yes."
She would have laughed at his unabashed confession if she weren't so offended by it. "I don't want to be fucked. Didn't you hear me before? Fucking me puts me in the same nameless, faceless category of a victim you kill."
He cupped her breast, making her squirm with need. "What's the right word? What do you want to hear? Tell me, and I'll say it."
"So, you can give me platitudes like you did when you said you were sorry my mother was murdered?" She pushed at his chest, trying to get him off her, but he didn't move. "That's not how it works. Words mean nothing. It's the intention behind the words that matter. You could have said absolutely nothing when I told you my mother had died, but if you'd silently brushed your finger across my cheek, offering me comfort in the only way you knew how, it would have meant something. Spewing out words you don't mean is like killing someone with a kiss. It's a lie, and it's meaningless. Now get off me!"
"You want me to care? Is that it?" He still didn't back off, and he slipped his finger beneath her bra, his thumb brushing over her nipple, sending shards of desire through her.
"Stop it!" She slapped at his wrist, and his hand stilled. "I'm not a machine, you dumb oaf! My mother is dead, Marjorie is dead, and Julia is missing. I'm barely holding it together, and I don't need you trying to feel me up because you need to get off. So stop preying on my emotional state and get off me!" Tears trickled from her eyes, streaming down her cheeks, but she couldn't stop them. "See what you did? You made me fall apart! I don't have time to cry! Damn you! Just damn you!" She slammed her fists into his chest, but he still didn't move away. "What do I have to do to get you away from me?" She let her head fall back against the wall in frustration. "What do I need to do?" she whispered, staring at the ceiling.
He said nothing.
For a long time, neither of them moved. She was still pinned against the wall by his body, his hands resting on her hips, her legs still around his waist, not because she wanted them there, but because she had nowhere else to put them. Finally, she looked at him. He was staring at her, his eyes dark and intense. "What?" she asked.
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