long ago she didn’t want that answer. There had been a reason she was whisked into Daemonia. A wicked, selfish reason for which she could never forgive the perpetrator.
Savin considered her words. Surely his next question would be, how had she survived? So she would redirect his thoughts. “What about you? Do you have any girlfriends?”
His brow quirked; then his lips dallied with a smile before he shook his head. “I’m not so talented with the suave and smooth. All that dating stuff feels awkward.”
“A man so handsome and kind as you has trouble with women? Surely, you’ve dated.”
“I have. I do. Eh. It never lasts. I’m human, Jett, but this demon inside me makes it difficult to relate to human women. I’m different than most. I know things I shouldn’t know about things that shouldn’t exist. And I have to protect that side of me from discovery. You know? I did date a vampiress once. I don’t like the idea of getting bitten, though, and that did seem to be a requirement to a happy relationship.”
“Did she bite you?”
“I wouldn’t let her. It was tempting. I understand the bite is orgasmic. Oh, uh, sorry. I shouldn’t talk like that around you.”
“Why not? We’re both adults. I am a grown woman.” And she was feeling more of herself with every moment she sat near Savin. He’d toyed with getting bitten by a vampire? Jett traced the bottom tip of her canine tooth. It was sharp, but not as pointed as usual without her sheen. “I know things,” she said. “Trust me, I’m not an innocent.”
“All right, then.” He considered his glass, and Jett sensed his sudden discomfort.
“Vampires! So many creatures walking this realm,” she tossed out to break the tension. “All the things we once thought were only make-believe. All of them predators and prey.”
“I’ve never been prey and don’t intend to start. Trust me on that one.” He chuckled and shook his head. “Hand me the bottle. Let’s finish it off.”
She grabbed the bottle and went up on her knees to slide closer to Savin, setting the bottle on his thigh. When he gripped it, she placed her hand over his. He turned his head, and the scent of him invaded her pores on a tease. As a woman, she had needs. And those needs screamed for satisfaction right now. A new turn at satisfaction, actually. One that she might not regret, or that would leave her shivering in revulsion.
“My turn to ask the questions,” she said. “Or rather, I’ve a request.”
He studied her hand still resting over his, and she released him so he could pour the last inch into his glass. He tucked the bottle on the other side of his thigh, then said, “Shoot.”
Boldness had been bred into her over the long and unending years of her exile. And she was feeling her mettle now that she’d begun to acclimate to this realm. Jett touched the ends of Savin’s dark hair and swept them over his shoulder. With the back of her forefinger, she traced along his neck up to the bristly beard hairs. He was warm, much more so than she’d expected. Fiery, even. But never dangerous, at least, not to her darkness.
“Do you think I’m pretty, Savin?”
Now his gaze locked on to hers, and she felt the heat of him scurry over her skin. It danced about her arms and torso and tightened her nipples. Mmm...he was not a man to be ignored.
“I do.”
“Do you remember when we were kids and I asked you to kiss me and you said you couldn’t until we were older because we’d have to be married and you’d probably have to like girls to do so?”
He nodded and, with a tilt of his head, chuckled softly. “You remember that? I’ve always respected women. My mother taught me that.”
“Yes, you are a kind man. But. Are we old enough to kiss now?”
Her finger wandered over his chin and followed the line of hairs below the center of his bottom lip. She traced lightly over his mouth. All the while his gaze was intent on hers. Desire smoldered in his deep dark eyes. And she could smell it on him, even though it was a scent that had usually offended her. Not so from Savin. He was a real man. Not a demon.
“Kiss me,” she whispered. She moved nearer until their noses were close enough to brush. He smelled like the brisk Paris air and fiery whiskey, with a rich earthy tang of man.
“Jett, I—”
“Yes?”
A hush of his breath played over her lips. “Are you sure?”
“I never ask for things I don’t want. That’s a waste of words.”
She ran her fingers along his cheek and back through his hair.
She would not kiss him. He must come to her. Otherwise, she would not know if he was merely doing as she asked or if he genuinely wanted to. But the heat of his body so close to hers was incredible. Tempting. And she felt dizzied, yet also emboldened by the alcohol. If he refused her request, it would crush her.
When his mouth met hers, the connection felt tentative for but a moment. Savin’s hand slipped along her neck, gentle but guiding, as he tilted her head to better receive the taste of his desire. He invaded her with his presence in a way she had never known. And she wanted to keep it. To know him as only adults could know each other.
His mustache brushed her upper lip, and their noses nudged. Eyes closed, she gripped at his wavy hair. Their intense connection rocketed up the delicious tingle that began at her mouth and coiled rapidly throughout her body. Jett slid a leg over his lap, her knee hitting the whiskey bottle, and straddled him. He slipped a hand along her back, not breaking the kiss, instead keeping her firmly in place upon him.
She wanted to taste him, to drink the whiskey from his tongue. That wish was granted as he dashed his tongue along the seam of her mouth. Such a spectacular sensation giddied up her spine. The man’s throaty groan clued her he enjoyed kissing her as much as she did him.
His tongue was hot and slick as he tasted her teeth, tongue and her lips. She copied his movements, daring him into a deep dance that ignited the coil of want in her belly, and lower. It was not a sensation she had known—too easy, too comfortable—and it alerted her for a few moments, but she would not let him know her caution rose. The width of his hand spanned her back as he gentled that sudden anxiety with the realization that he might only protect her and—if she was lucky—give her pleasure.
He must. She deserved it.
Bracketing his face with both palms, Jett tilted her head, seeking to devour his whiskey sweetness. When she brushed her hard nipples against his chest, again the man moaned. Yes, she liked his reaction. He was under her command now. And that empowered her.
Yet when he slipped out his tongue and kissed her mouth, then bowed his forehead to hers to end the kiss, she wanted to greedily pull him back for another. So she did. This time the clutch of his hand against her hip was more urgent. And his other hand slid over her derriere and squeezed.
She wanted to feel his body against hers, skin to skin, to know what his muscles felt like flexing with movement, melding against her body, and to own him.
But she was getting carried away.
Jett lashed her tongue along Savin’s lower lip, then met his gaze.
“Whew!” he said.
Exactly. And kneeling over him, firmly in his embrace, she could sense...something similar within him. The demoness he claimed had hitched a ride to this realm with his escape? The Other. Her presence was faint, barely a shimmer that traced the man’s veins. And yet she wanted Jett to know of her presence.
Oh, she was aware.
Jett thumbed Savin’s mouth. “I’ve never been kissed like that.”
His eyebrow quirked.
“Actually, I’ve never been kissed until now.”
“You’re—Really?”