His eyes locked on mine as he reached out to touch my face, his fingers gentle as they traced the line of my jaw, sending shiversdown my spine. "Stay here with me, Luna," he ordered. "Don't shut me out."
I wanted to. God, how I wanted to. Because I was afraid. Not that I thought he would hurt me physically, but because I could feel myself being dragged into his darkness.
And I was beginning to like it there.
He continued his touch along the side of my throat, down the center of my breastbone and around the outside of my breast before he released me from his gaze.
His fingers brushed against my nipples, teasing them until they hardened and ached for more, then trailed down my stomach, tracing the curve between my hip bones before diving into the curls between my legs, sliding one finger into the damp heat before he moved on to learn the shape of my leg.
I shifted restlessly on the bed as he continued to explore my calves, my feet, the sensitive spot behind my knee, his hands gliding along my skin with purpose and precision. But he wasn't unaffected. His breathing was loud and fast now, and he moaned every time he found a place he particularly liked.
He explored my body with reckless abandon, his touch both gentle and rough as he learned every curve and texture. My blood rose to the surface in anticipation, sensitizing my skin until even the slightest brush of his fingers sent pulses of pleasure through my body. I let my head fall back against the pillow as he consumed me with the fire of his touch.
"Tristan…" I started to protest when it got to be too much, but he silenced me with a look. Stepping back, his eyes traveled over me one more time before he reached out to stroke the inside of my thigh.
My breath caught in my throat as he straightened and pulled off his shirt.
Good god.
He was a large shadow hovering over me, but I could make out the outline of broad shoulders, lean muscles, and a near-perfect male form. Not too thin. Not too bulky. Just strong, like someone who'd earned that strength, not something created from steroids.
"Please," I begged. "I want to see you."
"No."
"Why not?" I demanded. "You've got me spread out on this bed…tied to this bed…to do?—"
"Because I don't want you to see me."
My words stuttered to a stop. "Tristan."
"I'm not turning on the light, Luna."
Unbidden tears suddenly filled my eyes. I just wanted to see him. Why was that so much to ask?
"Don't ask me to stop." His voice was low. Desperate. "It's way too late for that."
I blinked away the tears. "Take off your pants," I told him.
At first, I thought he would balk at taking orders from me, but then he dropped his chin to his chest and undid the tie holding up his lounge pants. With long, deft fingers, he pulled the strings loose as he kicked off his shoes.
I held my breath as he shoved his pants down over his hips and let them drop to the floor, then stepped out of them.
CHAPTER 9
Tristan
Istared down at her, a vision pulled directly from one of my fantasies now lying on my bed.
MY bed.
I thought her presence here would feel wrong. No one had ever slept in that bed besides me, and it had taken me years to get used to not being on the floor. I'd never invited anyone to share it with me. I hadn't wanted to.
Yet, seeing her there, her dark hair splayed across my pillowcases, her full lips slightly parted and her eyes shining with tears and hot with desire, stirred something within me. A possessive, dangerous need I'd never experienced for anyone or anything. She belonged here, belonged to me. I was starting to understand that now.
But this wasn't right. I was a killer. A monster. She didn't deserve to have her brightness tainted with my darkness. I'd tried to purge her from my mind. I'd drawn her, over and over.Drawn every memory I had of her in the short time I'd known her.
If I couldn't have her, I'd surround myself with my memories of her, and hope it would be enough.
