Christ! She'd never felt more frenzied in her entire life. This was insane. After all, she was talking about a guy-okay, not exactly a guy-who was invisible. But maybe that's what turned her on. The mystery. The intrigue. She knew just enough about him to allow her mind a long, long leash. Her mind had created a false image based on her fantasies.
Ah! See. I'm sure he's not nearly as hot as you imagine him to be. All she needed to do was dispel the myth. Yes, that would snub out the smoldering flames immediately. Well, that and perhaps a really, really cold shower.
She pulled a glass from the cupboard and filled it full of iced tea from her fridge. "Want some?" she offered Máax.
"No, thank you. I eat and drink only for pleasure." He said that last word with a deliberately slow, deep voice.
P-p-pleasure? She gulped down the entire glass, hoping the frosty liquid might extinguish the scalding hot flame he'd just ignited deep inside her now-fluttering core.
Nope. She set the glass on the counter and turned. "Máax?"
"Yes?" His voice came from directly in front of her, making her jump.
"We're going to have to put a bell on you." She placed her palm over her heart. Then she felt his sweet, hot breath on her face again.
"Why would I do that?" he asked in that low, seductively masculine voice. "Then I couldn't spy on you."
He'd been spying on her? The thought of him watching her was strangely erotic. "E-e-exactly how much spying have you done?" she whispered.
His breath moved to her ear, and the heat from his body penetrated her clothes. He was close. So close.
"As much spying as you've done on me, my little human. Eye for an eye. Peek for a peek," he whispered back.
Gasp! He'd seen her naked?
Her immediate reaction was to become angry, but she found that emotion quickly overridden by that escalating case of raging lust, building deep inside. The urge to throw him against the wall, wrap her legs around his waist, and kiss him with whorish abandon was unbearable. She couldn't help it. She wanted to lose herself in him. She wanted to know what it would be like to give herself to a god, a male so exorbitantly powerful and stratospherically masculine that he might just very well fulfill those fantasies and erotic dreams she'd had repeatedly.
His whiskered jaw brushed against her cheek. "Mmmm … You smell delicious," he said. "I can't seem to get enough."
Uh-oh. Resist! Resist, Ashli. Must … resist … sexy deity … in kitchen. Why did the voice in her head suddenly sound like Captain Kirk battling the Gorn? Quick. Ask … him … something. Maybe he has bad teeth or a really heinous face like the Gorn.
"Máax? What-what do you-um-look like?"
He chuckled softly in her ear. "Why do you ask?"
"N-n-no r-reason," she lied.
"Ohhh," he said in that lascivious, deep voice, "I think you have a reason." She felt his soft, warm lips brush across her mouth, triggering a ripple of shivers.
Ohmygod. Was he going to kiss her? She never felt like this before. His smell, his voice-sighhh-her man-collage.
"Would you like to touch me?" he whispered. Before she had a chance to reply, he grabbed her hand, giving her a sinful jolt.
"You're not going to make me touch your Slinky again, are you?"
He chuckled softly in her ear. "I assume you mean my penis. But no, not unless you want to. Now, close your eyes." He pulled her hand to his cheek.
A short breath whooshed from her mouth. Touching him electrified her entire sex-starved body. She was beginning to think he might be a narcotic of some sort.
"What do you feel?" he asked.
Roughness. Delicious roughness. His angular jaw was covered with a thick growth of whiskers, and her mind instantly formed another piece for her man-collage. Then he moved her hand over his brow and down his nose. Their strong definition made her think of the classic features of a Roman statue. Then he moved her fingertips to his lips. They were soft and full, the bottom lip just slightly plumper than the top. Another piece of the mosaic.
He was beautiful. Perfect, in fact.
She sighed and dropped her hand.
"Is something the matter?" he asked.
"No."
"Then why do you look upset?"
Dammit. Because I want you. I really want you. She looked down at her feet.
"Ah. I see," he said. "I scent the pheromones dissipating from your skin. But you need not feel ashamed of your desire for me."
"What?" She knew she was blushing. Fire-hydrant red. "I'm not … desiring you," she spat out.
"Yes, yes, you are. The sound of your accelerated pulse and tiny beads of sweat are other telltale signs."
Oh, God.
She felt two warm hands, strong and large, grip her shoulders. Shivers snaked their way through her heated body. "I assure you," he whispered in her ear, "if you could see me now, you would witness my reaction to you."
Reaction. Reaction. He meant he was aroused.
She couldn't help it, but his words only elevated the biting need pounding away in her body, begging, pleading, screaming for her to do something crazy.
He brushed her hair to one side and placed a soft kiss on her collarbone. She closed her eyes and sucked in a sharp breath. "Why did you do that?" she asked.
"Because I wanted to. And I knew you would like it."
She couldn't lie, so instead she squeezed her eyes shut. This entire thing was that insanity apple on a stick. Goddammit! She wanted him. She wanted him so badly it almost hurt. And it was pointless. She was going to die, already had twice, three times if she counted that he'd come to save her from dying from something in the first place.
Panic set in, mimicking the sensation of being trapped in a car, sinking to the bottom of a lake. Months of therapy, dealing with what had happened with her parents, accepting that she had escaped death, flew right out the window. Christ, and she'd worked so hard! She'd learned to accept that death was part of life. That was the keystone to her sanity. Acceptance. With it, she'd learn to be grateful for each day she was given. When her time came, she wouldn't feel afraid or a sense of loss for anything. Nope. She'd be ready to go.
Now this "man" had shown up and made her want something, something that would make her fear dying. Dammit. Why? He'd ruined everything.
"Ashli?" His breath tickled her neck. "Do you remember when I said you were my match? I do not think you understand what it truly means, who you truly are-"
She thrust him away. "Stop! Just stop! Okay? I don't want to hear another word."
"What is the matter?" he asked.
"You need to leave."
"I cannot do that."
"I'm not asking," she barked.
"I'm not negotiating. I will not leave. Not until I know you are safely alive, fulfilling your role in the future."
There he went with the whole "mysterious destiny" bull crap again. "And as for me, for us"-he paused-"never mind."
"I am destined for one thing only: death. You've even admitted it." She turned to leave but ran into a wall of hot, hard muscles. He gripped her by the shoulders.
"I admire your stubbornness," he said. "Truly commendable. However, I am a god. I've been alive for seventy thousand years, give or take a millennia, and I know when I'm right. I also know how to win. You will not die. The Universe will not take you from me."
His possessive words struck her down like a bolt of lightning. She couldn't resist wanting this-whatever "this" was. She wanted to belong to him, a real live god.
He gripped her chin and tilted her head up. She knew he was looking into her eyes. She could feel it.
"Haven't you ever heard of fate, woman? There is nothing stronger. It is an anchor in the ocean of time. Unmovable. And you are mine."
His mouth was on her, hot, demanding, filled with a potent concoction of conviction, arrogance, and need. It didn't matter what her mind told her; her body, heart, and soul jumped into the tiny life raft he'd just offered her.
Her muscles simultaneously relaxed and constricted with his touch, and she opened her mouth to the heat of his tongue and lips. Her hands moved from his smooth, chiseled chest, up his shoulders, seeking that mane of silky, long hair she knew she would find. Her fingers channeled through the soft, thick strands and pulled him toward her. Eyes closed, she saw every detail of this gorgeous man in her mind. Her collage. He was perfect. Waves of caramel-brown hair with red-and-gold highlights that shimmered in the sun. Skin the color of deep amber honey, and eyes like a tropical ocean, a shimmering turquoise, surrounded by a thick fringe of dark brown lashes. And his lips. Full, delicious, succulent.