And he believed her. Maybe he was a fool for it, but God—he believed her.
Smiling, he pushed her wrists up and over her head, held them together in his left hand. Ash drew a sharp breath.
“What is this?”
“We’re going to see what my limit is. And yours.”
Her lips parted. As he bent to them, she whispered, “How?”
“We’ll see how long it takes before I have to let go. Before I have to touch you with both hands. Before I have to let you touch me.”
Her chest hitched with excitement. “Let me go now.”
“No, you’re still playing ‘get away without breaking the Rules.’ ”
“I’m not trying to get away.”
Playfully, he narrowed his eyes at her. “But how do I know it’s not a trick?”
She laughed. God, he loved when she did that. So soft and clear. Pure enjoyment.
“Can you vanish your jacket?”
Her breath stilled. Her brow furrowed, as if concentrating. Then, “No.”
With only one hand available to undress them both, that complicated things—but probably for the best. He should do better than fucking her on the floor next to a broken table, fully dressed except for what he’d been able to open one-handed.
So he’d just push to her limits, instead. How far he could take her. How fast. His hand slid down over leather, found the hem of her jacket, her hoodie, her T-shirt. So many layers, and he slipped beneath them all, found the hot, smooth skin at her waist.
“Your choice, Ash,” he said, and watched her eyes flare with crimson. “Up or down?”
She didn’t hesitate. “Down.”
“Impatient?” God, so was he. He couldn’t remember ever being this hard, and he’d barely touched her. And he wanted to touch all of her, but he wanted to please her more. He held her hands; he could at least give her control over his.
“Yes.” She laughed again, as if delighted by that. “So impatient.”
Watching her face, he unsnapped her jeans. He’d take her mouth in a moment, but right now he wanted to see her eyes as he slipped his hand beneath the denim. Her lids half-closed in anticipation, her lips parted, her breath coming in pants, she was beautiful. So incredibly beautiful.
And wet.
His fingers slid over slick, burning flesh. Nicholas groaned, already imagining his tongue delving through that soft heat, his cock sliding deep. He shook, his head bending under the effort not to rip her jeans open, spread her wide, take her now.
“Give me more.” Ash’s back arched. “More.”
“More, yes. God. I can almost taste you.” But not yet. Her eyes had closed, and the agonized pleasure on her face deepened as he circled her clit. The small nub had stiffened, the only part of her that wasn’t soft, but still so wet, so hot. “Like this? Or faster?”
Her head turned to the side, cheek pressing to the floor. Her hips rolled, and she cried out.
Jesus, so beautiful. “Like that?”
“Yes. Don’t stop that.”
He never would. Frenzied, Nicholas bent his head, licked the corner of her mouth. Her lips parted under his. Her moans came from deep in her chest, pulled answering sounds from him. Her legs widened as far as his knees allowed, and his fingers slid deeper.
Oh, fuck. Nicholas shook, battling the need to rip off her jeans now, ram deep. Her passage squeezed at his fingers, so tight. With a soft cry, Ash rocked her hips, writhing, pumping against him, her wetness flooding his palm. Pinned by his hands above and below, out of control, her ecstasy so unadulterated, so clear, so obviously her only thought, she was the most incredible, sexiest thing Nicholas had ever seen. He could have watched her forever, taking his own pleasure just in this.
But she wasn’t waiting for him. Her body jerked, stiffened. She cried out, exposing her fangs. Her sex clamped around his fingers, sweet fucking heaven. Her eyes opened, shining red—crimson swept across her skin. Obsidian horns erupted from her forehead, curling back to her temples.
Demon. Nicholas froze.
What the fuck was he doing? Had he forgotten what she was, or stopped caring? Had this been her plan all along, to make him stop caring?
Shaken, he slipped his fingers from inside her. He released her wrists. Ash trembled beneath him, then fell back to the floor, panting. A soft laugh erupted from her, and she looked up at his face. She stilled.
“Nicholas?”
“Well done. You got me to let you go,” he said.
She blinked and half rose. Her head wobbled a little. Frowning, she reached up. Her mouth fell open when she touched the horns. She pulled her hand back, looked at her skin.
“Oh,” she said softly. “I see. I found what disgusts you.”
Disgust? Nicholas rose to his feet. Not disgust. His cock was still hard, aching. And he wanted her. He still wanted her. Even now, with all this on display, she was beautiful to him.
No, the problem wasn’t that he was disgusted. It was that he wasn’t . . . but he should have been.
He should have been.
“Nicholas?”
He shook his head. He couldn’t. Rounding the broken table, he headed for the door. He heard her get to her feet, but he couldn’t stop. Not until he got his head together again.
A soft noise made him look back. She hadn’t come for him. She stared at herself in the small mirror over the sink, instead, her fingers tracing the reflection of the horns in the glass.
“This is who I am?”
His chest tightened. His heart told him to keep quiet, to figure this out, to work it through. He didn’t listen to it. Didn’t know if he could trust it.
“Yes. As I’ve said.”
“So you have,” she whispered. Her hand fell away from the mirror. “ Again and again. So you were right . . . and now you’ve fulfilled your part of your bargain. I know what I am now. A demon.”
“No.” That wasn’t all she was. “We’re not done. We don’t know your name. We don’t know where you came from.”
“The bargain was ‘Who I am’—and I’m a demon. Anyway, it’s not your choice. I’m releasing you.”