He growled. “Have you lost your mind?”
“Long ago.” Khloé tilted her head. “I miss it sometimes.”
Certifiable. The woman was a certifiable nutcase.
Finally, they arrived at Raini’s house. Only when the succubus was safely inside with the front door locked behind her did Keenan then drive Khloé home.
As he steered her up the path with his hand on her back, he sighed. “Could you stop singing ‘Amish Paradise’?”
“You gotta love Weird Al Yankovic,” she said. “Hey, why do you think humans sterilize lethal injections?”
“I don’t know.” He plucked her keys out of her clutch, unlocked the front door, and then shepherded her inside.
“Farewell, Don Juan.” She mule-kicked the door, almost slamming it in his face. He whipped up his hand, caught it before it could close, and shoved it open.
“You forgot this.” Returning her keys to her clutch, he tossed it at her feet just as she sat on the hallway bench. “Lock up behind me.”
She didn’t respond, preoccupied with trying to remove her shoes. Honestly, it hurt to watch her awkwardly fumble with the ankle straps. Sighing, Keenan stepped inside and closed the door. He crouched in front of her and gently batted her hands away. “I’ll do it.”
This close, he had no choice but to breathe in her scent. She smelled like marshmallows and honeysuckle, edible and far too fucking tempting.
He carefully worked to undo the left shoe-strap. His fingers grazed her warm, petal-soft skin, and he almost pulled back as a shot of static electricity surged through him. It was sudden. Irrepressible. Jarring.
Being so near to her was a sweet agony. His palms itched to stroke and explore and bite her smooth skin. His demon urged him to spread both her legs wide and taste—
Keenan cursed silently. Refusing to be a slave to the sexual connection that seemed determined to bind them, he forced his mind back to the task at hand. He removed her shoe, set it aside, and moved on to the next.
“Your schlong went hard when you saw me dancing, didn’t it?”
And his fingers slipped right off the strap.
She laughed, low and smoky, not in the least bit daunted by the glare he shot her. “Oh, come on, I’m just messing with ya, Keenan. I know incubi only get a hard-on if they want to.”
He could only shake his head. She had no idea what she did to him. No idea that she seemed to have more control over his body than he did. He slipped off her second shoe, tossed it aside, and then stood.
“On a serious note, though,” she began, rising to her feet, “does it hurt to walk when you’re hard? Because that monster in your jeans has to weigh a few pounds.”
His patience gone, Keenan went nose to nose with her. “Swear to Christ, Khloé, if you mention my cock one more time, I’m going to thrust it inside you and fuck you so hard you’ll be screaming.”
*
Goosebumps swept across Khloé’s skin as the atmosphere snapped taut. She stared at him, at a loss for words – a rare occurrence in her world.
Her body, well, it just lit up. Tingled and buzzed and hummed. Her mouth went dry. Her pulse skittered. Need pooled low in her stomach, raw and wicked.
Yeah, the gorgeous bastard rang every sexual bell she had.
The eyes boldly holding her own smoldered with something dark and hot. It was a stare that said, “I could pound into you all night and ruin you for other men.”
Hell, she didn’t doubt it. If he could reduce her brain to mush with just the heat and intensity of his stare, he’d most definitely be a goddamn rock star in bed.
Finally, his eyes released hers. They dropped to her mouth, and he swallowed hard. Then that broody gaze drifted lower and lower, peeling off her clothing, tracing every line and curve, stripping her of her defenses, making pure heat ripple through her body.
Hell, she’d just gotten laid by his eyes. It was a rush and a tease.
He needed to say something. Or she did. The tension just kept on building and building … until she wanted to scream, and her nerves were on the verge of exploding.
Seriously, someone needed to say something.
The only thing that eased the sensual torture was the comforting knowledge that she wasn’t the only one suffering. His breathing was no steadier than her own.
There was a possessive glint in his gaze that pleased her demon. But unlike the entity, Khloé knew better than to think he’d ever act on any possessiveness he might feel.If he had any intention of doing so, he’d have done it by now.
Digging deep for some element of calm, she went for blasé. “Sorry, alcoholics aren’t my type.”
A muscle in his cheek flexed. “I’m not addicted to alcohol. I drink because I want to. And, you know, you’re pretty judgmental about drinking for someone who gets blitzed almost every weekend.”