Accidentally...Over?: Accidentally Yours 5 (17 page)

“Máax? What—what do you—um—look like?”

He chuckled softly in her ear. “Why do you ask?”

“N-n-no r-reason,” she lied.

“Ohhh,” he said in that lascivious, deep voice, “I think you have a reason.” She felt his soft, warm lips brush across her mouth, triggering a ripple of shivers.

Ohmygod.
Was he going to kiss her? She never felt like this before. His smell, his voice—
sighhh
—her man-collage.

“Would you like to touch me?” he whispered. Before she had a chance to reply, he grabbed her hand, giving her a sinful jolt.

“You’re not going to make me touch your Slinky again, are you?”

He chuckled softly in her ear. “I assume you mean my penis. But no, not unless you want to. Now, close your eyes.” He pulled her hand to his cheek.

A short breath whooshed from her mouth. Touching him electrified her entire sex-starved body. She was beginning to think he might be a narcotic of some sort.

“What do you feel?” he asked.

Roughness. Delicious roughness.
His angular jaw was covered with a thick growth of whiskers, and her mind instantly formed another piece for her man-collage. Then he moved her hand over his brow and down his nose. Their strong definition made her think of the classic features of a Roman statue. Then he moved her fingertips to his lips. They were soft and full, the bottom lip just slightly plumper than the top. Another piece of the mosaic.

He was beautiful. Perfect, in fact.

She sighed and dropped her hand.

“Is something the matter?” he asked.

“No.”

“Then why do you look upset?”

Dammit. Because I want you. I really want you.
She looked down at her feet.

“Ah. I see,” he said. “I scent the pheromones dissipating from your skin. But you need not feel ashamed of your desire for me.”

“What?” She knew she was blushing. Fire-hydrant red. “I’m not…
desiring
you,” she spat out.

“Yes, yes, you are. The sound of your accelerated pulse and tiny beads of sweat are other telltale signs.”

Oh, God.

She felt two warm hands, strong and large, grip her shoulders. Shivers snaked their way through her heated body. “I assure you,” he whispered in her ear, “if you could see me now, you would witness my
reaction
to you.”

Reaction. Reaction.
He meant he was aroused.

She couldn’t help it, but his words only elevated the biting need pounding away in her body, begging, pleading, screaming for her to do something crazy.

He brushed her hair to one side and placed a soft kiss on her collarbone. She closed her eyes and sucked in a sharp breath. “Why did you do that?” she asked.

“Because I wanted to. And I knew you would like it.”

She couldn’t lie, so instead she squeezed her eyes shut. This entire thing was that insanity apple on a stick.
Goddammit!
She wanted him. She wanted him so badly it almost hurt. And it was pointless. She was going to die, already had twice, three times if she counted that he’d come to save her from dying from something in the first place.

Panic set in, mimicking the sensation of being trapped in a car, sinking to the bottom of a lake. Months of therapy, dealing with what had happened with her parents, accepting that she had escaped death, flew right out the window. Christ, and she’d worked so hard! She’d learned to accept that death was part of life. That was the keystone to her sanity. Acceptance. With it, she’d learn to be grateful for each day she was given. When her time came, she wouldn’t feel afraid or a sense of loss for anything. Nope. She’d be ready to go.

Now this “man” had shown up and made her want something, something that would make her fear dying. Dammit. Why? He’d ruined everything.

“Ashli?” His breath tickled her neck. “Do you remember when I said you were my match? I do not think you understand what it truly means, who you truly are—”

She thrust him away. “Stop! Just stop! Okay? I don’t want to hear another word.”

“What is the matter?” he asked.

“You need to leave.”

“I cannot do that.”

“I’m not asking,” she barked.

“I’m not negotiating. I will not leave. Not until I know you are safely alive, fulfilling your role in the future.”

There he went with the whole “mysterious destiny” bull crap again. “And as for me, for us”—he paused—“never mind.”

“I am destined for one thing only: death. You’ve even admitted it.” She turned to leave but ran into a wall of hot, hard muscles. He gripped her by the shoulders.

“I admire your stubbornness,” he said. “Truly commendable. However, I am a god. I’ve been alive for seventy thousand years, give or take a millennia, and I know when I’m right. I also know how to win. You will not die. The Universe will not take you from me.”

His possessive words struck her down like a bolt of lightning. She couldn’t resist wanting this—whatever “this” was. She wanted to belong to him, a real live god.

He gripped her chin and tilted her head up. She knew he was looking into her eyes. She could feel it.

“Haven’t you ever heard of fate, woman? There is nothing stronger. It is an anchor in the ocean of time. Unmovable. And you are mine.”

His mouth was on her, hot, demanding, filled with a potent concoction of conviction, arrogance, and need. It
didn’t matter what her mind told her; her body, heart, and soul jumped into the tiny life raft he’d just offered her.

Her muscles simultaneously relaxed and constricted with his touch, and she opened her mouth to the heat of his tongue and lips. Her hands moved from his smooth, chiseled chest, up his shoulders, seeking that mane of silky, long hair she knew she would find. Her fingers channeled through the soft, thick strands and pulled him toward her. Eyes closed, she saw every detail of this gorgeous man in her mind. Her collage. He was perfect. Waves of caramel-brown hair with red-and-gold highlights that shimmered in the sun. Skin the color of deep amber honey, and eyes like a tropical ocean, a shimmering turquoise, surrounded by a thick fringe of dark brown lashes. And his lips. Full, delicious, succulent.

With her body, she backed him against the wall, savoring his hard frame against her soft curves. She felt like she’d lose her mind if she didn’t do something with this pent-up lust. He turned her into an animal.

“You’re really not wearing any clothes?” she panted in between heated, wet, desperate kisses.

Instead of answering with words, he took her hand, the one palming his delicious pectoral, and slid it down. She kept her eyes tightly shut, not wanting what they couldn’t see to get in the way.

Ripped abs, a delicate dip in his hard stomach where she found his belly button, and then a light dusting of hair, slightly course. Was he really going to place her hand where she thought? And hoped?

Never breaking their wild, hungry kisses, her fingers grazed a thicker patch of curls and then…
Holy, sacred shlong-a-saurus.
She sucked in a sharp breath the moment her fingertips made contact. Hard, velvety, thick.

Máax released a grating groan, the kind that scraped and clawed at a woman’s core. That core which now quivered when she realized her hand only made it partially around his manly girth. Her fingers followed the long, hard line of his wickedly large penis, and she wondered when she would reach the tip.

He groaned again, this time so gravelly that she almost orgasmed.
How is that even possible?
It was as if the sound of his voice delved deep inside and enveloped her throbbing, pulsing flesh, rhythmically pushing against her.

This has to be bad.
She had absolutely no control over herself when around him.
But feels so good.

She leaned into him, their lips becoming more demanding and greedy of each other as she pressed him against her stomach. She’d never wanted to do this with a man, but she found herself needing to pleasure him, to hear him call out her name.

She cupped his erection against her abdomen, using her hand to massage him, while their tongues mimicked the rhythm of their bodies working toward the same delicious goal: to make him come. Yes. That’s what she wanted. To make him lose his immortal mind. She wanted to drive him crazy with lust. It felt like a primal instinct.

His hands reached for the hem of her dress, and he swiftly pulled the white flowy fabric up over her head, leaving her in just her pale pink bra and panties.

He unhooked the clasp in the front of her bra and stripped it away. She immediately felt his hungry gaze on her breasts, right down the tips of her hardened nipples, as if he touched her with his mind. How did he do that?

“Mmmm,” was all he said, but it managed to push her that final inch, well past any point of control.

Ohmygod. Change plans.
She wanted him inside her. She wanted him to take her right there in the kitchen and pound her senseless against the wall. She wanted to feel his insanely thick, hard cock push inside her body. She wanted him to use her for his pleasure. She just wanted him. All of him. All to herself.
I’m so in trouble.

As if reading her thoughts, he spun them both and placed her back to the wall. He gripped her panties and then broke the kiss. She felt him look her over again, perhaps savoring the task of stripping away the last barrier between them.

“You are so… beautiful, Ashli. The most beautiful woman, I’ve ever seen. Every inch is”—he sucked in a breath—“perfection.”

Her breasts were too big for her frame and her hips were too narrow. She’d always hated that about her body, but for a fraction of a second, she saw herself through his eyes. She did feel perfect, like a goddess. A sexy, smart, beautiful goddess.

She smiled but resisted opening her eyes. She knew the image of him in her mind would not be mirrored by her eyes. Her eyes would see nothing. Oh, but he was there. She felt every pulsing ripple, every hard inch. Oh yes, the man was there.

He slowly slid her panties to her ankles, and she kicked them away, leaving her completely bare. She wanted to say something, to tell him how badly she needed him to take her hard with that enormous shaft, but he didn’t give her a chance. His mouth returned to her, smothering her moans and groans.

He lifted her against the wall, and she responded helpfully by wrapping her legs around him.

“I want you, Ashli,” he whispered in her ear. “I think I wanted you even before I met you.”

She responded by placing her hands on either side of his face and kissing him with everything she had.

Mind-bending anticipation overpowered her when his hand reached under her thigh to position himself. She broke the kiss and held her breath, bracing for his penetration. She gasped with pleasure as his thick, heated tip parted her soft skin and began slowly thrusting inside. But the pleasure she’d expected did not come. Instead, it felt… well, really unpleasant—like a hot branding iron on her most intimate of places.

She yelped, and he immediately backed off, allowing her to drop her legs. She pushed him back and doubled over. “What was that?”

“Bloody hell,” Máax said, “I forgot about that.”

“Forgot about what?” she gasped.

“We are not”—he paused for several awkward moments, catching his breath—“physically compatible.”

What?
He had to be messing with her. She fought the urge to pass out. She’d never felt anything more painful in her entire life, like she decided to park it on a campfire.

“Deities are not compatible with humans,” he said coldly.

Her head snapped up. No, she could not see him, but he sure the hell could see her, and she wanted him to know how peeved she felt. “You’ve got to be fucking with me.”

“I do not fuck,” he said. “Or, more appropriately stated, we shall not fuck without the assistance of black jade, a particular material that blunts my powerful energy.”

His words felt like a bucket of ice. “B-but didn’t you s-say”—she couldn’t quite speak right—“that we’re… we’re… soul mates? Ch-chosen by the universe?”

If he was so certain they were meant to be together, that it was their destiny, then why wouldn’t they be able to have sex? That felt counterintuitive, to say the least.
Unless you’re being punished. Punished for everything you’ve ever done wrong.
Including not saving her family.

“Where are you going, woman?” he asked.

Lie. Lie to him.
“To my room. And don’t bother me. I need space.”

He did not say a word.

Twelve

Fuck, fuck, fuck. What was I thinking?
Máax stood in Ashli’s kitchen bouncing his forehead against the wall. What the
damnatus inferno
just happened?

He’d gone into Ashli’s home, intending to have a frank, practical, mature discussion about how he planned to keep her alive, but then found himself swept away by the smell of her sweat-covered skin and by the radiant, sensual heat of her body. He’d even found himself feeling grateful for the bond, imagining that there might be hope for them. He forgot all of the pertinent facts, which might undermine any aspirations of a lasting relationship. Such as, for starters, he had no future. Ergo,
they
had no future.