Chapter Forty-Two

Pandra cut a sharp rightout of Garwald's, Thomal hurrying at her side, both of them legging it down Main Street. Several meters from the mansion, they broke into an outright run, and by the time they were halfway up the grand staircase, she'd already wrapped herself around him—legs clamping his waist, arms enfolding his neck…lips kissing a path up his throat. Thomal uttered a growl.

Pounding up to the second floor, he kicked open his bedroom door, sending the wood panel banging against the wall, and in five long strides, he was at his bed, tumbling her onto the mattress and coming down hard on top of her. Her insides clenched with quickening desire…and the instinct to roll him beneath her and take control. She never let a man be on top during a tupping.

But then he levered his own body up, bracing himself on straight arms as he gazed down on her with a wolfish expression, his lungs working. "You know what I'm thinking?"

An unsteady laugh broke from her. "I'd say the possibilities are too endless at this particular moment, love."

"I was thinking that we've never even kissed." He lifted a hand and brushed the pad of his thumb across her lower lip.

She gave him a heavy-lidded look. "An oversight you plan to rectify, dare I hope?"

The dark centers of his eyes lit. He took her lower lip between his thumb and forefinger and tugged gently on it as he lowered his head at the same time. His lips met hers, his fingers sliding to rest at her chin. The sweet taste of his breath washed over her tongue, his mouth warm and soft and greedy. She drank him in…and grew more thirsty. Intoxicated. Sparks of fire skittered up and down her spine as he molded his lips to hers with soft caresses, his attentions caring and reverent.

An unfamiliar uneasiness spiraled through her. Palming the back of his neck, she pulled him closer and slanted her head to the side, roughening the kiss into something hard and hungry. Familiar. Comfortable.

Thomal groaned into her mouth, then lifted his head and offered her a crooked grin. "I definitely have a best kiss now."

She smiled back. "Go shut the door."

"Hell if I'm moving." His voice was a hoarse snarl.

"Thomal." She gave his shoulder a shove. "You want every Tom, Dick, and Harry to see us at our business?"

"Right now? Don't care." He angled his hips forward, prodding her vadge with the hard length of his stalk.

A low moan came out of her. Another move like that and she'd be throwing prudence to the dogs, as well. "If you go close the door," she coaxed, "I'll be in the buff by the time you get back."

He was off her at Dragon speeds, blasting over to the door and slamming it shut before she even had a chance to blink. He turned to face her, chin down, peering at her through the fan of his lashes as he kicked his shoes into the corner. Then his pants came off, revealing that magnificent dobber of his, driving out from a golden thatch of hair.

She ran her tongue across her lips. Her nipples tightened.

He prowled toward her, pulling his shirt off over his head, a task that rippled and delineated an astounding array of muscles, tendons, and ligaments. And then he was standing in front of her, arrogant and strong and proud, a sexy smirk aimed at her. "You said something about naked?"

"Oh." She laughed. "Didn't mean to muck about, hubby, but you're a right distracting article." She hauled off her tank top and cast it aside along with her bra.

His gaze dropped to her naked breasts and lingered there…for so long that a blush actually rose. He was looking at her as if he'd never seen anything more beautiful.

"Gonna have to attend to those." With a hand on her shoulder, he urged her down flat on the mattress, and leaned over her, his lips lowering to within a scant inch of her nipple. He hovered there, his hot breath slipping over the crest of her breast and rolling in a lightening tide of warmth down the sides.

She squirmed. If she grabbed him by the temples and muscled him down the rest of the way, would that be bad form? His tongue darted out and flicked over just the tip. Her eyes fell closed as her nipples crinkled and her vadge warmed.

He placed a kiss just below the cleavage of her breasts, leaving her aching nipple behind as he forged a path downwards.

Frustration twitched and pulled at her.

He must've heard her teeth come together. He chuckled low in his throat. "I'll be back, horndog." He kissed lower. Then stopped.

She angled a glance down at him.

Eyes the color of steel ice were pinned on her belly. His fingertips traced the ugly scar there. "You've been hurt so much in your life," he whispered, bending forward to brush his lips over her scar.

Every muscle in her body tightened. Bristling with irritation, she shifted rigidly under his touch.

"Tell me what happened to you."

"No."

Thomal straightened. His gaze was cloudy and filled with a poignant ache. He took a step back.

The absence of his body heat chilled her. My, what a recognizable feeling. Her fingers curled inward.

"Maybe it's too soon for this," he said. "Too soon after O??rat. Too soon for us."

"Why?" she snapped, sitting up. "Because I'm unwilling to subject myself to your pity?"

"My—?" He looked at her as if she was a complete nutter. "Because I'm one of the people who've hurt you so badly, and you understandably don't trust me, yet."

"You've been nice to me all of a few hours, Thomal. What the bleeding hell did you expect?"

"Exactly my point." Turning around, Thomal grabbed his blue jeans off the floor.

She narrowed her eyes as she watched him tug on his trousers. Anger slithered a hot coil through her body. She vaulted off the bed, stalked across the room, and wrenched the door open. "All right, then. Get out."

He stopped dressing, his shirt draped over the palm of his hand.

"That's what you do best, isn't it?" She squeezed the doorknob, forcing it from a circle to an oval. "Leave."

A sinew bunched in his cheek. "This isn't me rejecting you, Pandra. The total opposite. I don't want to get into that bed with you until it can be more than fucking. I want it to…I don't know, to mean something beyond the obvious: that we're both horny as shit for each other."

"Mean something?" She scoffed at the concept even as little muscles in her belly jumped and a queer bolt of panic closed off her throat. Old memories rose up: a poor mark in algebra class, second prize at the boxing club tournament, her inability to master Russian. Any less-than-perfect performance had been cause for disappointment to flicker through Raymond's gaze, his encouraging smile to turn so utterly false. And now here she was again, standing on the edge of a precipice where she was certain to disappoint. Because she had no idea how to make sex mean anything.

She stalked back over to Thomal and snatched his T-shirt out of his hand. "And here I thought you liked it rough, old boy. What was all that piffle about no tiptoeing?" She tugged the shirt on over her head, glad when the hem fell to the tops of her thighs. She didn't want to be naked anymore. "Was that just a load of tut?"

"Look," he said in a measured tone. "You told me no second chances. So I'm not going to mess this up. I've done every wrong thing I could possibly do with you, Pandra, and I don't want to keep doing that." He dragged in a deep breath, the muscles across his chest tensing. "I don't mean to ask too much of you. I know you don't love me. I…this is the first time we'll be together since the night of…" He trailed off.

Her eyes drifted sideways, away from him. "And what if it can't mean anything?" She fingered the soft cotton of Thomal's T-shirt. Her heart suddenly felt watery.

She heard a frown enter his tone. "You mean ever?"

She shrugged stiffly. "Sex has always been about blowing off a proper head of steam for me, Thomal, usually involving violence to some degree." She turned to look at him. "Something I'm sure you can attest to. There's a good chance I'll kick ten balls out of you when we're done." Especially should it mean something. How heinous.

"You can certainly try." A thread of amusement ran through his voice.

Her skin flushed hot. "Flaming hell, now isn't the time to get mangled up in your male ego. I'm dead serious here."

"So am I." He scratched the side of his face. "I'm not afraid of you, Pandra."

She planted her hands on her hips. Everyone was afraid of her, the fool. "You ought to be. Stuff your Dragon speed and your Varcolac strength. You can't beat me."

He shrugged, his expression remaining neutral. "That's something we'll never find out for sure, because I'm never fighting you again. If you come at me with violence, I'll combat you with love—kisses, hugs, and a bunch of dorky jokes, poor you."

She gaped at him. She had no words for that, not a one. Nor did she have any idea what the devil she'd do if he actually followed through and played smoochie face with her nasty half.

He walked over to her and reached behind her, gently closing the door, grinning as he said, "This is my bedroom, by the way."

She flushed.

"Now you and I are going to do that thing couples do when they don't have sex." More humor rippled through his tone. "I think it's called cuddling."