With something that felt suspiciously like a sigh, Andros reached out and picked up a strand of that hair. It felt so soft as he rubbed it between his finger and thumb, marveling at the different hues.
She was so fucking beautiful.
The image of the bartender leaning forward to laugh with her hit, and he growled. He knew exactly what that boy was thinking. Fucking hell, he knew what they were all thinking whenever she walked past them. Lyra was sexy as hell. Everyone, him included knew it, and she was so…nice. That was the real problem, he thought. She didn’t wear the brittle mask of many other women who looked like her. Instead, she was charming, and sweet, and she made every man she talked to feel like she was there for him and him alone.
He knew that because that was precisely how she made him feel!
Perhaps if she were a little more dismissive, a little haughty. But no, that was not her personality, and right now he hated that fact. Hated the jealousy she created in him, and hated himself for not having better control over his unruly emotions.
He dropped the strand of hair, and almost absently ran his fingers along her bare arm. She was lightly tanned, the skin even softer than the hair. Everything about her was soft. Everything was warm.
Fucking hell.
With gritted teeth, he pulled himself out from under her and off the bed. Once up, he moved across to the vast windows, which took up almost the entire bedroom wall. With one hand on the frame, he leaned forward, watching the city play beneath him. Cars moved back and forth—even at this time of night, people scurried around. There were no doubt thousands of couples still awake, he thought, loving in the streets below him, the buildings around him. Men and women finding each other, discovering each other, but he couldn’t help wonder how many of them had a relationship even approaching something close to the one he and Lyra had put together out of nowhere. Not many would be his guess.
He moved across to the other side of the window, taking in the whole view, but it didn’t soothe him as it would usually have done. He was too wired up, too antsy. Something was churning inside of him—something that kept asking who Lyra would be with if not him—and Andros had no idea how to fix it.
“Andros?”
Lyra’s voice was questioning, hesitant, and he turned to see her, one hand propped up on her chin, watching him as he had watched the city.
“I thought you were asleep.”
She smiled across at him. “I was, just for a little while. I don’t know what woke me. Maybe because you weren’t here.”
Her words should have made him smile back but they did not. Instead they sent something that felt like panic running through his frame. “Go back to sleep, Rossa. I’ll come back to bed in a moment.”
“Why don’t you come lie down next to me and I’ll give you a massage,” she suggested. “Work some of that tension from you?”
“I’m not tense.”
“You so are.”
He sighed even as he moved back across to the bed, unable to think of a reason not to join her. “I will hold you instead, then you can fall back to sleep.”
“Nuh uh.”
Before he knew what was happening Lyra pushed him down onto the bed. She held a hand on his chest as he moved to get up and shook her head.
“Stay still for me?”
Her other hand moved up his left thigh, caressing the skin, tugging ever so slightly on the hairs there.
“Lyra, what are you doing?”
“Massaging you,” she said.
The other hand was removed from his chest and found his other thigh. She caressed up both, moving higher and higher with every stroke. Andros knew what was coming, and though he was torn up inside, he knew he would not be able to stop her. Already his cock was hardening, thickening. Already he could feel the desire thrumming in the pit of his stomach. No matter how angry, how furious, he could not get enough of her.
She bent forward, sweeping her long hair behind her shoulder as she did so, and then, taking his thick cock into her hands, she dipped her tongue out and licked the length of him.
He groaned. How could he not?
She licked again. Her tongue was hot and wet, and he fisted a hand into her hair, moving her up and down, encouraging more. She complied, licking along the length of him, making sure no skin was left untouched.
When his grip tightened she pulled back, blowing soft, warm air across his shaft, teasing and building his desire.
“More,” he demanded.
She nodded. “I’ll always give you more, Andros. I love the taste of you.”
More air blown across his dick, and he couldn’t help but tighten his grip. She knew exactly what he wanted, didn’t she always? And gave it to him with a happy little sigh.