Page 56 of Bond of Passion

Tavin stood a few feet away, his mussed hair standing up in spikes, his jaw set in a hard line. His eyes, as bright as molten gold, bored into her, scalding her in the most delicious ways.

A rattling sound of approval vibrated from deep inside Sleeva’s chest as she shifted languidly toward Tavin. “You’re awake. And ready for me, I see.”

Deja’s gaze slid down his bare chest in pure female appreciation. Scars marked his tight, tan skin but didn’t detract from his hard-cut pecs and sinewy abs as they disappeared beneath navy sleep shorts. Sleep shorts that did nothing to hide his arousal.

Clearly, the injection Eidolon had given him had worn off.

“He’ll be desperate when he wakes up,” Eidolon had said. “Maybe even out of control.”

Sleevatook Deja’s hand and pulled her toward Tavin. “We can make it a threesome,” she said. “I’m powerful enough to heal you both.” She palmed his chest, and even in Deja’s sex-addled state, a spark of jealousy flared. “Oh, Tavin,” she murmured. “You need so much.”

Grunting, Tavin stepped away from her, his fists clenched, his gaze still latched onto Deja. “No.”

“Excuse me?” Gone was Sleeva’s sultry, fuck-me voice. Even her posture had changed from relaxed and liquid to rigid and I’m-a-doctor. All she needed was a lab coat. “Eidolon sent me to tend to your physical wounds and sexual needs.”

“Deja can do it.”

Sleeva’sappraising glance made Deja’s skin tingle. “I’m sure she’s capable of handling your carnal requirements. But she can’t heal you.”

Tavin let out a bitter laugh. “No one can do that, Doctor.”

“Don’t be a fool.” She swung around to Deja, one hand on her curvy hip, her nails drumming lightly on her skirt. “What do you have to say about this?”

“I...I…” Holy crap, how was she supposed to play this? If she wanted what Eidolon wanted, what was best for Tavin, she’d shove him into bed, tuck Sleeva in next to him, and hand them some sex toys.

Fuck that.

Okay, she could admit to some jealousy. She knew what he was like in bed, after all.

You’re just jealous because you love him.

Maybe she did still love him, as awful as it was to acknowledge. But she hated him more. She’d had over a decade to feed and nurture that hatred, and now it demanded revenge. Hate always trumped love. Hate beat love into bloody, quivering, squealing submission. To the Neethul, the very idea that love could overcome hate was absurd.

So, yes, her hatred had aged like a fine Zorathki blood wine. She was here for revenge, which meant making him fall for her. Which meant that Deja would handle his sexual needs and send Sleeva packing.

Good thing that was what Tavin wanted too.

“I think Tavin should make up his mind,” she said.

Deja expected Sleeva to argue, but she calmly dipped her head in an accepting nod. She was kind of like the female version of Eidolon.

“I’ll give you both a minute to talk it over. But keep in mind that I’ve seen the extent of Tavin’s wounds. My talents are needed, or he’ll suffer needlessly for the rest of his life.” Her hooded, smoky eyes raked Deja from head to toe, and her skin tingled anew. “And you…you need it almost as badly, but not for the same reasons. Plus,” she said with a slow wink, “I want to see how you taste.” Her voice dipped low again, into the sultry drawl that sounded like sex under the tropical sun—and Deja knew that because Tavin had taken her to a remote Pacific island once. “Just so you both know,I taste like hot honey.”

Sleevasauntered out, her hips swaying, and her perfect ass flexing under the shimmery fabric of her skirt.

“Damn,” Deja breathed. “That female is—”

Tavin slammed into her, pushing her against the wall, his hands gripping her shoulders. His cheek caressed hers as he captured her earlobe between his teeth. Pain was like an erotic shock that shot from her ear to her sex. Holy hell, she was so primed for this that she was already on the edge of orgasm.

“Are you picturing her mouth between your legs? Lapping at your nectar? Flicking her tongue over your clit?” he murmured. “Because I can do better.” His hand slipped between her legs, and his fingers stroked her over the thin fabric of his borrowed boxers.

Oh, gods, yes. A sweet, pinching pulse began to throb in her core, and she arched into his touch, needing more. He denied her, cruelly teasing her with light circles.

“That could be my tongue.” He eased a finger under the fabric and dipped it inside her. “Imagine it. Imagine riding my mouth.”

She didn’t need to imagine it. She remembered it. She knew how it felt to rock against his tongue as he fucked her with it, licking and sucking and making her scream.

She moaned, cursing him even as she craved him. He took her defenses down so easily, so masterfully, that she barely remembered that she was here to seduce him and not the other way around.