“You took advantage of me. I hate you,” she seethed.
“Your mind does.” Salvator kept hold of her leg; intense eyes traveled slowly up her thigh.
“But not your body.”
A new fire lit her blood beneath his arrogant, knowing appraisal. Why him? Why now? In all her life, all her long centuries as a vampire, her body had been her own. Now she wasn’t so sure. In fact, as liquid, hot warmth filled her icy veins, her body remembered his enticing touch. No, not enticing but mind-blowing. Surely she had lost her mind altogether to allow such a thing. And allow she had.
She exhaled, recalling how his long muscled body felt pleasantly heavy when it covered hers, dominating in a way she couldn’t exactly label as rape. No, she had wanted it, wanted it desperately at one point, maybe a few points…Maybe the whole time. Her nipples suddenly felt tight, breasts heavy, as though they remembered too. Alex groaned in denial when her whole body seemed to thrum in response to the mere thought of what he’d done to her.
His hand inched up her calf, fingers creative and searching, Italian accent soft and forgiving.
“See, bella, now you remember.”
Salvator remained dripping wet, tall body clad in black, hair sleek against his head, deep set smoky blue eyes delving into hers. Sexy as hell, this vampire. Alex lowered her lashes and offered a small, inviting smile. Eager, lustful eyes glowed hungrily in response. His hand traveled further, she bent her knee, allowed him inch-by-inch further access.
“I do remember,” she murmured, enthralled by his beauty, maleness.
“Si,” he whispered, his long fingers skirting the top of her thigh. “Very good.”
Taking his hand, she entwined her fingers with his, pulled him closer, and made to kiss his hand.
Then aimed true and kicked hard.
Salvator, ancient vampire, dropped to his knees; hand on his crotch, eyes wide. Alex wasted no time and punched him square in the face with all the power of an eight hundred year old vampire. He fell back, landed on his behind, shocked. She flicked a wrist and a long, thin stalactite from overhead fell hundreds of feet, its tip neatly embedding the pant material centimeters from his groin, to the rock beneath.
She stood, smiled and brushed her hands on her dress. “You dishonored me. Don’t do it again.”
The rock between his legs disintegrated to dust, and he sat up, knees bent, and arms casually resting over them. His wet hair dried, a strand flopped over his eye, made him look far too human and desirable. His suddenly crooked grin didn’t help. “Of course not.”
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