For the Love of Sin. Leanne Banks
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last piece of pie.”
She grinned at him. “And since you were the youngest brother, I bet you didn’t get that last piece of pie very often.”
“Until lately,” he conceded, then switched the subject back to a troubling thought. “I know you’re as independent as they come, but don’t you ever wish you had someone to unload on?”
A lost expression flickered across her face, quickly replaced by a trace of irritation. She stood and took both their bowls to the sink. “It’s all about what you learn. You learned to depend. I learned not to.”
He followed her to the kitchen. “Sounds like a complete lack of supervision. I can just imagine what kind of trouble you got into when you were a teenager. Now, if you’d been a Pendleton, we would have locked you in your—”
She turned around and tilted her head, her brown eyes meeting his. “But I’m not a Pendleton. What are you after, Troy?”
“Answers.” Damp from her shower, her hair left a dark spot on the shoulder of her robe. He’d waited just about as long as he’d wanted to to touch her, so he lifted a strand of her hair. Slippery as satin, like her robe.
Her gaze assessed him. “And that’s all, right?”
He didn’t let go of her hair, and he didn’t back off from her gaze. “I’ve been told I have the sensitivity of a block of wood.”
Senada bit her lip to stifle a chuckle. “I can see that.”
“I’ve been told that I don’t know when to stop.” He slipped his broad fingers through her hair to the back of her head.
Senada let him. Later, she would have to figure out why. “I can agree with that,” she murmured. She still thought he was going overboard, but he really had the most incredible violet eyes.
“And I’ve been told I’m brutally honest.” He deliberately looked at her mouth, then back at her eyes. “It wasn’t meant as a compliment.”
She resisted the urge to lick her lips but couldn’t produce a quick retort.
“I’m gonna be brutally honest right now. You make me curious, Senada. Sometimes I wonder if you’re a witch. Sometimes I’m sure you’re just a scared little girl in a woman’s body.”
Senada flinched. That last observation was too close for comfort. “I’m not—”
He lowered his head, blocking out the light and cutting off her protest. “Seems like the more I learn about you…” He skimmed his mouth against her lips in a taunting movement, and she felt his thighs brush against hers as he stepped closer. “The more I want to know.”
His hand cupped the small of her back. He drew her body flush against his and took her mouth.
She stiffened, expecting him to rush, to plunder her mouth. His hands were firm, but his lips were gentle, seeking, asking, wanting.
Her heart tripped in surprise.
He was everything she hadn’t anticipated. He massaged her nape with his callused hand at the same time he flicked his tongue on the seam of her lips. Soothing and arousing her.
A slow, insidious hunger wound its way through her. She instinctively parted her lips and waited for him to explore her mouth, but he didn’t. Instead, he suckled her bottom lip between his.
His gentleness was at odds with the hard ridge of his masculinity pressing against her. He squeezed her in his arms and gave a low growl. “God, you taste like heaven and hell.”
He slipped his hand up her rib cage to just below her breast. Senada’s heart pounded. She wanted…his touch. She lifted her hands and slipped her fingers through his hair. He ran his tongue just inside her lips, his fingertips grazing the underside of her breast.
Her chest hurt to breathe. She wanted more. But still he played with her, his fingers edging close to her nipple then scooting away, his tongue dipping inside her mouth then darting back. Her blood was burning her. Her breasts were aching with arousal.
He slipped his finger close again, toyed with her tongue again. Her frustration shot through the roof. “Kiss me,” she whispered against his mouth. “Really kiss me.”
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