She cried out softly as his teeth sank lightly into her flesh, careful not to break the skin. It felt like a lightning bolt joined the spot with her clitoris, and she arched into him.
“You like that, do you?” His voice rumbled in her ear, and she shuddered. How had he found that spot so quickly? She didn’t even know she had it. But now that she did, she didn’t want him to ever stop kissing and biting.
He didn’t seem to want to stop either. She could feel his strong arm supporting her back and the erection bulging against her stomach and wondered what it would be like to reach between them to cradle him in her palm. She licked her lips and ran her hands over the muscles beneath his shirt at his lower back instead, too shy to touch what she was really interested in.
The hand that fisted her hair shifted and moved south, squeezing her hip briefly before running down her thigh. He gripped her leg and hoisted it up next to his hip. The movement almost put her core level with his shaft and she wriggled, not caring that she was whimpering in his ear.
She felt aching and empty and she wanted to ride the bulge of his cock.
Please, she almost whispered, but the words wouldn’t come. She was losing her mind, every second that she was trapped between him and the wall turning her into a mass of feelings and need with no coherent thought. She felt helpless, a bird trapped in a cage of pleasure.
Fight it, something in her whispered, you barely know him.
“No,” she said, almost too softly to hear. Or was she telling herself no? Because part of her didn’t believe her own protests.
He began to slide his hand along her thigh toward the hem of the towel. A little farther. Grip my ass and sink your fingertips into me. Touch me. The thought was insane, she barely knew him, and he was breaking her resistance the way cannon fire destroyed a sail.
She was losing control—and she hated losing control.
“Stop it,” she said, this time more firmly. She fought for the strength to stop, desperately, but it was like walking through quicksand. With more regret than she’d ever felt for anything, she reached down and stilled his hand. “I mean it.”
He shook his head as if to clear it, his breathing heavy and his chest heaving, then set her down gently and pushed himself away from her. She sagged against the wall.
He shoved a hand through his hair, frustration radiating from his tense muscles. “Damn, I’m sorry. I’m your guardian. That was bloody inappropriate. Against the rules. It canna happen again.”
Bloody inappropriate? Diana flinched.
With the harsh tone lingering on the air, he spun on his heel and left the bathroom. The door slammed behind him.
CHAPTER TEN
Shite. Cadan leaned back against the wall next to the bathroom door and squeezed his eyes shut. What had he just done? When he’d heard the crash, he’d rushed in, thinking that someone had gotten in through the window. Instead, Diana had been clinging to the side of the bathtub, damp hair slicked back from her delicate features. Her full bottom lip had trembled, and her vulnerability had roused a fierce, protective instinct.
Helping her to her feet had been the right thing to do. But from there.... The feel of her under his hands had been like a drug.
At the first of her welcoming responses, his control had begun to slip. He’d ignored the voice that told him to let her go. Becoming lost in her again would only compromise his ability to defend her. Even worse, sex could lead to the return of her memory. He’d told her it was inappropriate and against the rules. It was a lie, but he’d needed to say something.
Any voice of reason had been silenced as soon as he’d heard her desperate cries. The feel of her trembling, and then arching into him, had clouded his brain. Her surprised gasp when he’d bit her shoulder had made his cock throb, desperate to be free of its confines.
Had it ever been like that with Boudica? He’d wanted her, aye. It had been good between them, but fraught with a struggle for dominance and a desire to bury the darkness of their lives.
It had been nothing like it had been with Diana in the bathroom. That had been nothing but passion. Brain-clouding passion. He had to stay away from her, but the idea of never touching her supple skin again, never feeling her move beneath his hands, made him ache with loss.
He forced himself to walk away. He’d already spent too much time standing outside of doors thinking about
her. He had to keep his mind off her and focus on the threats circling in the shadows.
Cadan crossed the room to the wing chair in the corner and scrubbed a hand across his face as he tried to ignore the sound of her moving about the bathroom. Instead he forced his mind to turn to more productive thoughts.
Why was she here? When he’d lost her the first time, he’d thought she was gone forever. Before they’d left the university, Warren had told him about a vision Aerten had seen—an ancient scourge returned. But whom? And to what end?
The door to the bathroom creaked open. He tensed.
Diana stepped through, shrouded head to toe in gray silk pajamas. His jaw clenched. He had a feeling that she considered the sleeping attire conservative.
His body said differently. The soft fabric clung to her curves and drifted over her hollows in a way that hid nothing and emphasized everything. The feel of her under his hands rushed to the front of his mind. What wouldn’t he give to run his hands over her silk-clad form, molding them to every inch of her body. He’d slowly push the silk up her stomach, exposing the soft skin beneath to his lips and tongue.
He realized that she was staring at him expectantly, so he cleared his throat as he stood up. She looked away as soon as he met her eyes. How long had he been distracted, staring at her like she was a piece of steak and he a starving man?