There was no denying that. The ache was driving her crazy.
“Let me take the edge off all that loneliness.” He lifted her chin, his thumb tracing idle circles over the delicate expanse of her neck. “So beautiful,” he murmured as his other hand roamed across her quivering stomach. “No one will know. No Nephilim. No Fallen. It is just you and me.”
Her eyes fluttered shut, and when his hand drifted up her stomach and stopped just under one round globe, she almost cried out.
“Tell me to stop.” His voice was thick. “And damn it all to Hell, I will.”
Her lips parted, but she didn’t speak.
Julian growled low in his throat and then brought his mouth down on hers.
Chapter Eleven
It had been years since she had kissed anyone. She’d been a teenager, before Baal and before she accepted the Contract. She’d forgotten how much pleasure a kiss could bring, but she never remembered being kissed like this before.
Julian claimed her lips as if he were laying stake to her soul. The possibility that he had already done so should have served as a dire warning, but she was far too immersed in the feelings Julian was working out of her. His lips were demanding, and when he tugged on her lower lip with his teeth, she yielded to him. The kiss deepened, and his tongue slid over hers. She let out a little breathless moan against his hot mouth. The taste of him, his smell…all of him invaded her, burning her. She was so hot, so wet.
His lips began to leisurely explore hers as his hand finally, finally smoothed over her breast. He touched her like he’d been starving to do so. His deft fingers plucked at her nipple, causing her to do something she’d never done before.
She moaned into his mouth.
His chest rumbled against her back as he left her mouth. “I will not force you. Even though every cell in my body demands that I take you now. You have a choice, Lily.”
What choice was he giving her when his fingers moved to her other breast, drifting over her pebbled nipple? The liquid fire in her was too potent to be ignored. But she was gasping for air, knowing she’d already gone too far.
But there was still a choice. Even as worked up as she was, she could regain control of herself, but it was more than the physical. She was so incredibly lonely and he…he had saved her twice now. And his touch, there was nothing like it. Her response ran deeper than trying to ease some of the loneliness, but she wasn’t ready to delve too deeply into that.
“I want to give you pleasure,” he said, smoothing his thumb over her bottom lip as his other one did the same to her nipple. The combination was maddening. “That is all, Lily. This will be nothing more.”
“It won’t?” Doubt colored her words.
“Oh, I want to do more. Much, much more. I want to sink deep inside you. I want to fill you while you scream my name.”
Her body shuddered.
“All you have to do is tell me no.” His hand left the tip of her breast, dropping to where the robe was still knotted. “No?”
She bit down on her lip. Her breast ached from the loss of contact.
He quickly unraveled the haphazard tie she had made, and the robe completely parted. “So beautiful,” he whispered again.
Her eyes opened into thin slits as his fingers made their way to the soft mound between her legs. She held her breath. A finger skimmed over her damp lips, barely touching her, but she jerked against his hand. No one—no one had touched her without some sort of barrier between her flesh and theirs. And without thinking about it, she parted her thighs, giving him more access.
He gently explored her heated flesh. She was quickly losing herself to him, breathing like she’d run five flights of stairs. When his thumb pressed against the little bundle of nerves, she whimpered.
“Stop?” he asked.
When she said nothing, he increased the pressure until her h*ps began moving, rocking against his hand. A fierce heat surfaced, overshadowing anything she had felt before. Building and building till she feared it would consume her.
Julian lazily ran a slender finger over her wet slit. The tension coiled inside her as she pressed into his hand, wildly seeking whatever it was he would offer.
“Look at me, Lily,” he ordered roughly. “Tell me what you want.”
A ragged breath escaped her parted lips, and her eyes met his.
He pressed against her, his c*ck thick and hard against the small of her back. “Tell me to stop.”
Everything seemed to come down to this moment. Her h*ps were still thrusting against his hand, twisting until sharp spikes of pleasure shot through her.
“What will it be?” He pressed his lips to the bruise on her temple. “Do you want me to stop?”
“No,” she gasped.
He made a triumphant sound and scooped her up in his arms. His movements blurred, and then he was placing her on the bed. Julian removed the robe from where it had been trapped around her arms and laid siege to her lips. He kissed her until her fingers sunk into his hair, pulling.
Groaning with pleasure, he lifted his mouth and trailed his lips down her neck. She wanted—no, needed—to feel his skin against her. With trembling fingers, she grabbed hold of his shirt and lifted. Wordlessly, he paused and raised his arms. She tossed the shirt aside. Each hard plane and ripple of his chest begged to be touched.
And she did, running her hands over him. Damn, he was utterly magnificent. His skin was like silk stretched over steel. Every part of him was hard and smooth.
Then his lips settled over her nipple, sucking long and hard. “Julian,” she begged in a heated whisper.
Answering her plea, he pressed his hand against her, slipping one finger into her wetness. Her back arched off the bed as she ground her h*ps against his hand. The feeling of him—his finger inside her—had her thrashing.
He slipped in two fingers, and the fire in her core flared. His name was like a sinful prayer on her lips, urging him on. Julian’s mouth glided from one breast to the next and then back to her lips. She felt the thick length of him against her and sparks flew. Her fingers dug into his skin as he pressed his entire body against her.
The tension building in her expanded, her hand dropped to the band of his pants. More, she wanted more. “Please,” she pleaded. “Please, Julian.”
“Don’t,” he grunted against her lips as he slowly pumped his fingers.
Ignoring this, she jerked the fragile material. Buttons snapped, scattering across the dark room. She yanked the material over his hips, and his c*ck sprang forward. Figures. He would go commando. And damn, he was huge. She wrapped her hand around him, and he jerked as if he had been burned.
He groaned, arching into her hand. “What you do to me. Ah, Lily, don’t.”
She didn’t listen. She ran her hand down him, marveling at the length and width. His breath was coming out in short, little gasps, and she was awed at what her touch could do. Soon, he was pushing into her hand as he carefully thrust his fingers into her.
He pressed his thumb against her clit. “Come for me, Lily,” he ordered.
The coil within her started to spin madly. Her grip on him tightened. “I want to feel you inside me. Please.”
Julian groaned, swirling his thumb over her clit. She felt him swell in her hand. The whirling force inside her spiraled out of control, and the first wave of pure bliss crashed over her. She cried out, tensing against his hand. Spasms racked her body, and her toes curled. With wide eyes, she saw Julian stiffen and felt his c*ck jump in her tight grasp. Then he, too, joined her in release, their hearts racing as their bodies spent themselves.
The force of her orgasm left her speechless, and as her heart slowly returned to normal, Julian gently removed his fingers. He gave a shaky sort of laugh, pressing his lips to her damp forehead. “That’s not what I had in mind,” he said gruffly.
Lily realized her hand was still wrapped around him, and he was already hardening under her touch. She pulled her hand away, flushing. “Sorry,” she whispered. “I guess I got carried away.”
He eased himself beside her and gently cupped her cheek. “No. Don’t apologize.” He leaned down and kissed her softly. “Sweet Lily, you surprise me.”
Her hand fell idly to his chest. She was warm and fuzzy all over, and her bones felt like they had melted somewhere along with her sanity. “Do I?”
He nodded, sliding one arm under her, and nestled her against him.
Falling quiet, she tried to reconcile everything she knew about the Fallen with what she knew about Julian. What they had just done—what they had shared—had been true bliss. How could someone so evil be so patient, so gentle? And bring her such pleasure.
Unease crept over her. For the first time since she knew what she was, she doubted what she knew. All Fallen were evil. They lacked compassion and were totally immoral—that’s what she had been taught. But she couldn’t bring herself to think of Julian that way.
He leaned over, placing a kiss against her cheek. “What are you thinking?”
She tipped her head back, looking at him. There was no way around it. “Why did you fall?”
His stare didn’t waver. “Why do you think I did?”
She shrugged. “Sleeping with young maidens?” Please don’t say you killed an entire family of four because you felt like it, she begged silently.
He was silent for a moment, and then he leaned down and kissed the pulse at the nape of her neck. “You would think that, wouldn’t you?” He lifted his head, staring down at her. “It was a long time ago, Lily. I had been foolish and very prideful.”
She bit her lip. That wasn’t much of an answer. She pushed. “You didn’t kill an innocent person or something?”
His gaze sharpened and his brows rose. “What does that Nathaniel teach you? No. I did not kill anyone…who was innocent.”
Lily held his gaze for a moment. “Okay,” she whispered. “I believe you.” It made her a fool, considering that wasn’t much of an explanation, but she did.
He lightly grasped her chin, bringing her lips to his. When he was done, he pulled her into his arms. “I better not see you at Deuces Wild again,” he said gruffly, pressing her cheek to his bare chest.
Sated and strangely happier than she had felt in years, she smiled sleepily as his heart thundered under her cheek.
…
Michael’s head was going to explode.
He was full of knowledge—and it was way too much. He had spent the bulk of the day cloistered away with Luke, and now Remy. It was like being in school again. Except what he was learning was far more bizarre and interesting than anything college could have taught him.
From what he had gathered from Lily that first night he had learned of the Fallen and what he learned today, he decided they were screwed.
It was sheer statistics.
Luke had explained that only so many Nephilim were born a year. The now-infamous Nathaniel—who he’d yet to hold a conversation with personally—would receive the name somehow. He’d called bullshit on that, which had earned him a sharp look from his impromptu teacher. Out of those Nephilim born, only about fifty percent actually survived the first year. Apparently his kind were needy babies.