I sighed, frustrated but also full of pity. How awful had his upbringing been that he’d never learned to relax around another person? Never understood that people did things for one another without needing to be rewarded?
“Can’t I do something without needing something in return?” I asked gently.
“No.” He frowned, his hands fisting the couch cushions on either side of his thighs. “There’s always a catch. Always.”
“Not with me.”
He smirked but couldn’t hide his tension. “And that’s the part that confuses me the most. And why you’re the most dangerous of the lot.”
“Me? Dangerous?” I laughed. “As if.”
Before he could reply, I rushed, “I’m offering to do this without expecting anything back. That’s it. That’s all. Does that answer your endless questions?”
He stared at me for so long, the air seemed to buzz around us. More questions cut through his gaze, but he didn’t voice them. Instead, he closed his eyes and forced his hands to stop strangling the couch. “I burn in every bone of my body. Every droplet of blood feels like it’s searing me alive. I don’t care what you massage. I doubt it will help, but...try wherever you want.”
I studied him, drinking him in while he couldn’t study me back.
Wiry muscles, ropey arms, and a shredded stomach—most likely from constantly clenching against pain. No part of him would be easy.
My hands already ached at the thought.
He’d agreed yet...I wasn’t qualified. What if I only solidified his opinion that being touched was something to be avoided rather than enjoyed?
The urge to flee came strong.
My cheeks caught fire as I shifted closer to him and the sudden idea of straddling him came and went. God, what would he do if I—
His eyes flashed open, almost as if he’d heard my thoughts.
“I forgot to warn you.” He smiled, tight and thin. “If you do anything that hurts me or if you touch certain...areas, I’ll snap your neck with my bare hands, got it?”
His threat echoed in the room, but for some reason, I wasn’t afraid.
Either my fear and adrenaline were broken from this place, or I trusted him more than I realised.
“Got it.” I nodded.
His nostrils flared as I sat beside him; I cringed as my knee pressed against his.
He stiffened, his gaze snapping to where we touched. That damn spark appeared again. Crackling and constant, a live current flowing from him to me.
Turning to face him, I breathed, “Just...don’t kill me by accident, okay? If I touch you somewhere you don’t like—barring the obvious, which I vow to stay well away from—” my eyes dropped to between his spread legs “—just tell me.”
He held my stare until my heart threatened to leap out of my chest.
Finally, he nodded and closed his eyes again. “Fine.”
Fine...
But it wasn’t fine and what the hell was I thinking?
My breath caught in my throat as I scooted closer and raised shaking hands to his temples. My fingers hovered for a second, unsure.
This was such a bad idea.
Clenching my teeth, I did it anyway.
With my heart skipping, I pressed my fingers lightly to the soft skin by his hairline.
He went instantly rigid.
His breath hitched.
His hands balled.
A quiet beep sounded, a flash of red beneath his shirt from that awful metal circle.
He groaned as if he’d been given another dose of fire. His skin blazed hotter than I expected, fever-warm, his thick ink-black hair going instantly damp with perspiration.
The cords in his neck stood out as he gritted hard, staying perfectly still.
I kneaded small, gentle circles on his temples, trying to ignore my galloping pulse.
He growled—it sounded suspiciously like a groan while trying to hide that it felt good.
The tendons along his throat softened a fraction. His lashes fluttered against his cheeks.
Awkwardly, I tried to feather my fingers through his hair, but the angle was all wrong. Sitting beside him wouldn’t work. “Sorry,” I whispered, pulling my hands back. “Let me just—”
Before he could move, I darted behind the couch.
Whisper padded toward me, nudging my hip in curiosity.
Giving the panther a distracted smile, I leaned over the backrest and placed my fingers on his temples again.
Lucien jolted.
Touching him did things to me. Terrible, wonderful, wickedly hot things.
Doing my best to breathe, I raked my fingertips through his hair, along his scalp, to the base of his skull.
A guttural grunt escaped him as he shuddered. His head lolled back against the couch, surrendering entirely to my hands. His reaction was so swift, so starved from pleasure, my heart flung itself up my throat.
He shuddered again as I massaged his nape. His fists unclenched, splaying open as if I’d successfully destroyed all his resistance.
“Good?” I asked softly.
He didn’t answer. He just let me keep going, his shoulders sinking deeper, his jaw unclenching with every stroke of my fingers. I worked my way down his neck, across the tight knots in his shoulders.
Another shuddery, raspy exhale escaped him.
My stomach squeezed, amazed he was going along with this and actually seeming to enjoy it.
“God, you’re like stone,” I murmured, kneading along his shoulder. My fingers drifted lower, pressing along the dip where his chest met his collarbones. His body jerked, a tremor running through him.
My fingers ached as I tried to deliver perfect pressure. I lost myself to the rhythmic stroking, working my way along his pectorals, avoiding the silver metal implanted over his heart.
I didn’t notice that with every pass of my hands, I tipped closer. Didn’t pay attention that as my touch went lower—hunting out all the spots that made him shiver and groan—my body folded deeper over his to reach.
I just kept touching him, trying to ease whatever misery he felt.
My hands drifted from his torso to his biceps, feathering down again to knead his forearms, cursing the glint of silver around his wrists.
Each time I connected the blood bags to drain him, I couldn’t find a way to undo those awful cuffs. Which betraying board member had locked them on him? Forever leaving access to his veins with no way for him to stop it?
Anger flowed through me. I massaged harder, working his tight arms, utterly consumed with chasing out the fire beneath his skin.
My cheek pressed to his as I folded—
His arm shot from beneath my hand and snapped up. His fingers locked around my nape, jerking me down.
“W-Wait!”
His eyes snapped open as his head turned to face me. Our noses brushed. Our breath mingled. He looked like a man wrenched out of a dream and dumped straight into a nightmare.
He dragged me closer before I could protest, the movement fast and instinctive.
“Lucien—”
Something snapped in his stare. Black and lost and yearning.
His fingers flexed as if he wanted to strangle me but then...
Something broke.
Yanking me over the back of the couch, he caught me as I tumbled into his lap.
I cried out as I landed.
I gasped as he grabbed my cheeks.
And I moaned as his mouth crashed over mine with savage, unconscious hunger.
His fingers bruised my face as he kept me locked in place, utterly at his mercy.
He kissed me exquisitely hard, brutally hard.
Deep and devouring—blowing my one and only other kiss to smithereens.
His lips captured mine like he’d been starving for an eternity.