Reaver(70)

“Do it.” He moved toward her, his broad shoulders rolling like a lion on the prowl. “I betrayed your trust once. Now I’m asking you to give me another chance.”

Harvester’s pulse pounded in an erratic rhythm as he drew closer. The air between them grew thick with a sultry, erotic heat she felt on her skin like a sunburn. This was how it had been the day he seduced her. He’d been so sure of himself, so confident that she’d give in. And she had.

Then he’d crushed her.

“Why should I?” Her voice was humiliatingly hoarse.

“Because you don’t need anything to hold over my head.” He stopped a foot away, an unyielding wall of muscle that blocked her view of everything but him. His voice lowered to a sensual drawl. “You don’t need a verbal contract between us.”

Was he saying what she thought he was saying? That he’d have sex with her even if she didn’t force him to? Or was this a repeat of that wonderful and horrible day so long ago? What if he was tricking her to get out of the deal?

“Harvester,” he said, but in her head she heard an echo of “Verrine.” “Release me. Trust me.”

She couldn’t. She wouldn’t. It would be too easy for him to hurt her again.

But she wanted to be good. How could she do that if she was clinging to a bargain she’d intended to use selfishly? Maybe doing as he asked would be a first step toward making amends for five thousand years’ worth of evil deeds.

Her pulse pounded in her ears as she considered his request and her possible response, all weighed alongside her desire to shed some of the darkness that had become as much a part of her as her skin.

She could do this. But if Reaver made her regret it, she’d gut him with her teeth.

“I… release you.” She waited for him to gloat or laugh or something, but he just stood there, his half-lidded eyes smoldering. “Ah… now what?”

“You tell me.” He licked his full lips, leaving them glistening in the diffused gray light of the Boregate. “Do you want to test me? See if releasing me from the deal was a smart thing to do?”

Was this a trick? She narrowed her eyes at him. If it was, he was playing it very, very cool.

She could do cool even better.

“Sure,” she said, kicking off her boots. “Let’s see if I made a mistake.” Bending, she peeled off her leggings, which left her only in the ridiculous pink panties and her skimpy black tank top. “Are you going to fuck me even without the deal?” She hooked her thumb in her panties’ elastic waistband and waited.

And waited.

Finally, Reaver shook his head, and a cold ache drilled a cavern in her chest. “No, I’m not.”



Still reeling with shock that Harvester had actually taken a huge step toward trusting him by letting him out of the sex deal, Reaver gave Harvester a moment to let what he’d said sink in. It killed him to let her think he’d gone back on his word, but he wanted her to be very clear on what he was about to say next.

As hurt gave way to fury that built like steam in that slim, athletic body, he closed the distance between them and put his mouth to her ear. He shivered at the sensation of her delicate, smooth skin against his lips.

“I won’t fuck you,” he whispered. “But I’ll make love to you. I’ll do what I should have done all those years ago.”

For some reason, she cried out and shoved him away. “I don’t want that,” she shouted. “I can’t. I need… I need…”

Shit. Meltdown time. He’d pushed too fast and scared her. Not that she’d ever admit to being afraid of anything, let alone her emotions.

“What do you need?” he said quietly. “I’ll give it to you.” He had a feeling she needed control, especially now, in the midst of chaos, life altering revelations, and an uncertain future.

For an unbearably long time, she didn’t say anything. Finally, she blurted out, “I need you to take off your shirt.”

Good girl. It didn’t matter what request she’d made of him, he’d have done it. He was just happy she hadn’t demanded that he hop on one foot while singing a show tune or some shit.

“Done.” As he lifted his shirt over his head, the cinnamon-clove scent of Harvester’s arousal filled the room.

Raw hunger gleamed in her eyes, replacing the pain and distrust as he tossed the torn garment to the ground. “Good.”

She caught her tongue between her teeth as she studied him, and damn, he could so easily picture her in the throes of orgasm, her head back, mouth open, silky ebony hair spilling over her shoulders and breasts. She’d be radiant, beautiful, and she could bring a male to his knees.