"Not enough?" he said grimly.
He couldn't blame her for wanting to back out of the wager. Bloody hell, he might even owe it to her, seeing as how she'd saved his damned hide. Percy had stuck her neck out for him; no milk-fed miss would do such a thing. Unfortunately, her unexpected actions only fueled his attraction to her, causing a war within him.
Eye for an eye. But I don't want to let her go.
He forced himself to say the words. "If you wish to put an end to our bargain—"
"End it? But Mr. Hunt,"—she raised her eyes to his and they were sparkling, not with tears but...merriment?—"that was the most brilliant night of my life!"
"Brilliant?" Mayhap the stress had made her cracked. He'd seen it happen before.
"I've never dreamed of such adventure. Well, I've dreamed of it, but never have I experienced such life or death drama. I was working on a novel, you see, but I got stuck. After tonight," she said gleefully, "I shall beswimmingin inspiration."
He didn't understand a damn thing she was saying. But the sight of her safe, of her dancing eyes and dimpled cheeks... without warning, lust returned in a crashing wave. It washed away logic, plans he was supposed to remember. All he could see was the valiant, unspoiled goddess in front of him, her laughing, sensual mouth, and blood roared in his ears.
"Persephone," he said hoarsely.
Her eyes rounded. Before she could speak, he took her mouth in a ravenous kiss.
Hell's teeth, she was so sweet. His eyes closed with the pleasure of it, with the unbearable hunger he felt. She trembled, so he knew she felt it too. The attraction that flared brighter than fireworks between them, that exploded over the frozen, dark terrain within him and showered it with light and warmth. With a groan, he slid his hands in her hair, angling her head to deepen the kiss. Her lips parted naturally beneath his, and then he was inside her again where he belonged. Licking, tasting, staking his claim.
Yet he was not the only one doing the claiming. When she touched her tongue to his, the pleasure of that bold caress tautened every sinew in his body. The muscle between his thighs, in particular, sprang to full attention. Cradling her delicate jaw, he returned her little love play, magnified it. He plunged his tongue deeper and deeper, leaving nothing unexplored. She was his, all of her, and he would allow her to hold nothing back. If the breathy little sounds she made were any indication, she wanted him to take it all.
As he continued to kiss her, he skimmed his hands from her shoulders to her breasts. God, the feel of her made his blood pound. Though not large, her tits were firm to the squeeze, the perfect shape for his palms. Hehadto see them. Reaching behind her, he fumbled his way through buttons and laces until he could ease her gown off her shoulders. His mouth followed, kissing the curve of her jaw, the fragrant hollow of her neck.
She moaned softly, and he had to agree with the sentiment for there, bobbing in the moonlight, was the most delectable sight he'd ever beheld. Twin beauties, perfectly firm and round. Mouthwatering. He thumbed one saucy, upturned nipple, and she made a hitched sound in her throat.
"By God, you're beautiful." The guttural words escaped him. "The most beautiful goddamned thing I've ever seen."
She licked her lips, and some of the dazed look faded from her eyes. "I don't think—"
"Don't think." He fondled the budded tip until her eyes grew unfocused again. "Just feel," he said huskily. "I won't hurt you, buttercup. I promise. I'll stop anytime you want me to."
Before she could argue further, he put his lips on her. Groaned as the clean sweetness of her skin saturated his senses. Lemon blossoms and soap, the combination feminine and fresh, as unique as she was. Easing her back onto the table, he kissed the smooth curve of her breast, licked in teasing circles toward the tight peak. All the while her sweet sighs urged him on, drove him to a fevered pitch. He drew her nipple into his mouth.
Her gasp tickled his ear and made his rod leap against his smalls. "Do you like that, sweetheart?" he growled.
To help her make up her mind, he did it again. This time, she pressed herself into his kiss, her hands clutching at his shoulders, so he got his answer alright. He took his time playing, going from one quivering mound to the other, lashing and flicking with his tongue. Her eyes were closed, and she was panting, moaning.
By God, I'm going to make her spend just by suckling her tits.
Her passion inflamed him. He gazed upon her, his own chest heaving as if he'd run for miles. With her hair tangling in pale streamers across the table and her breasts wetted from his kisses, she was the wanton of his deepest, most carnal fantasies. His cock throbbed with the imperative to be buried as deep inside her as possible. To take her and make her his.
He reached for her skirt, drawing it upward. Her eyelashes fluttered open.
Already ragged, his breath took another blow from the wonder-struck expression in her eyes. From the passion shining there... and the innocence.
"Mr. Hunt?" she breathed.
Just like that, with a bloody utterance, she erected a part of him he'd long neglected. Not his cock—which was already stiff as a poker and which frankly had never suffered inattention—but his... conscience. Scruples he'd believed decimated by the years in the stews came all of the sudden barging into his head like a nosy fishwife.
She saved your life. She's likely suffering from the aftermath of bloodlust, if not shock. She doesn't know what she's doing.
He stared at his hand, large and dark against the vulnerable curve of her knee... and he almost didn't recognize his own appendage for what it did next. The bloody thing yanked her skirt, not further up as every other part of his body was clamoring for but... back in place.
Goddamnit.He drew a shuddering breath.
Some of the dazzle faded from Percy's eyes. "Mr. Hunt... Gavin?" Her voice quavered this time.
