And then there was poor little Archie. He had trusted her to keep him safe from that despicable Beast Man and she had failed him. She tried to block the sound of that startled yelp inside her brain. She tried to block the sound of that fatal crack, as poor little Archie’s neck was broken. She tried to block the sight of that poor little limp body hanging from Beast Man’s horrible hand like a trophy.
Aiesha could feel her defences crumbling like the ashes of the log she’d poked in the grate a minute ago. James had seen her off guard. Unprotected by her outer shell of hard-nosed tart. Her fight-or-flight instincts were battling it out inside her chest. She could feel every moment of the struggle like fists landing heavy blows against her heart.
Flee.
Fight.
Flee.
Fight.
She was conscious of the silence...measured by the sound of the ticking clock on the mantelpiece above the fireplace. She was conscious of the dryness of her mouth and the unfamiliar hot moist prickling at the back of her eyes. She was conscious of a tight restriction as the deep well of her buried emotion bubbled up in her throat like a foul sewer.
She. Would. Not. Cry.
Aiesha blinked and quickly slipped her armour back on. She opened and closed her hands, testing him. Watching to see if he so much as flinched. ‘I could really hurt you,’ she said.
‘Undoubtedly.’
She couldn’t make out his expression. Was he testing her? Seeing if she would take up the dare? She brought her hand up but he didn’t move a muscle. His gaze was steady on hers. She placed her hand on the side of his face, her skin catching on the graze of his stubble. Something caught in her chest. A snag. A hitch. Then a letting go...
There was another heartbeat of silence.
He covered her hand with his, holding it within the gentle prison of his fingers. ‘That the best you could do?’ he said.
Aiesha looked at his mouth before flicking her gaze back to his. ‘I don’t want to ruin that pretty-boy face of yours.’
The dark blue of his eyes intensified, holding hers in a lock that made something inside her belly tilt and then spill. ‘You’re scared.’
She sent her tongue out in a quick darting movement to moisten her lips. ‘Let me go, James.’
‘I have a little forfeit to collect first.’
Something dropped off a shelf in her stomach. ‘Forfeit?’
He spread his hands through the mane of her hair, his gaze moving from her eyes to her mouth in a slow and mesmerising fashion. ‘You punched me in the nose. I get to kiss you. Fair’s fair.’
She affected a sneer but was pretty sure it was wide off the mark. ‘Is that meant to be a punishment?’
‘Why don’t we find out?’ he said and, tugging her against him, his mouth came down over hers.
His lips were warm and firm, slow and deliberate. Purposeful. His tongue stroked against her top lip and then her lower lip without deepening the kiss. It sent every one of Aiesha’s nerves into a frenzied clamour of want. She wound her arms around his neck, leaning into him to give more of herself to the kiss. She opened her mouth, inviting him in, teasing him with the flicker of her tongue against his lips.
He made a deep growling sound in the back of his throat and thrust his tongue against hers, wrangling and tangling with it, sending her pulses soaring. He tasted unique, not sour or beery, or stale or too mouthwashy or minty.
He tasted...just right.
Aiesha delved her fingers into his thick dark hair as he continued to explore her mouth in spine-loosening detail. Her body trembled with desire, great giant waves of it coursing through her as his tongue moved inside her mouth with erotic intent. His kiss was mesmerising, magical and intoxicating. Not rushed and greedy, but respectful and enticing. Her mouth responded to him like a flower opening to warm rays of sunshine. She had been kissed too many times to count but not one of them had been like this. Gentle and yet determined, passionate and yet controlled.
His pelvis was pressed against hers, his erection leaving her in no doubt of the effect she was having on him. She could feel the length of it against her belly, making her desperate to touch him skin on skin. She felt her inner core contract, the silky moisture of arousal anointing her in anticipation of his possession.
His breathing was heavy, as if he was only just holding on to his self-control. She felt the tension in him, the way his hands were holding her by the hips, set there, anchored there as if moving them to another part of her body would be dangerous.
She made a mewling sound as his teeth grazed her lower lip, tugging on it before salving it with the stroke of his tongue. He repeated the process with her top lip, little teasing nips and tugs that made the hairs on the back of her neck quiver. He smoothly glided his tongue back into her mouth, sweeping hers up into a tango of lustful longings.