Leopard's Kiss (Shadow Guardians) (Shadows Guardians Book 1) (15 page)

Her heart ached for the depth of emotion in his voice. "Have you ever done this? Just touched a woman like this?"

"No." He looked up, searching her face as his fingers traced lightly over her breast, making chills pop up on her skin. "This isn't how I live," he said softly. "It's all about isolation, being invisible, and staying in control. It's critical, but with you, I want to slow down. I want to be present. I want to experience it all."

This was the man who'd been able to say nothing more than "I want to fuck you" when she'd first met him? She suddenly understood that it was the same man, and his crass words had said exactly what he was saying now, but he hadn't had the vocabulary to say it this way before. His soul had always been deep and beautiful. He just hadn't known how to access it. Her heart tightened, and she reached out with her own hand, spreading it across his chest.

He went still, his muscles quivering beneath her palms.

"Is this okay?" she asked.

He nodded. "Don't stop."

She smiled at the hoarseness in his voice. "Has anyone ever touched you like this?" She trailed her fingers down his toned torso, watching as each muscle tensed beneath the skin.

"Of course not. I'd never allow it."

Her throat tightened at the words he didn't add. He was allowing it now, for her. "Touching is so important," she said softly, as she ran her hand over his hip. His skin was taut, with hardly any fat to cover his muscles.

He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, even as he continued to run his hand over her body, not just her breasts, but her shoulder, her arm, her elbow, her jaw. Everywhere, like a man starved for touch. "It's incredible," he said softly.

"I know." She bit her lip, and then brushed her fingers across the velvet soft skin of his erection.

He moved instantly, rolling on top of her and pinning her to the bed. His eyes were dark, and heat was burning in them. "Don't do that," he growled.

She caught her breath at the roughness to his voice. "Why not?"

He shoved his knee between hers, spreading them apart. "Because it'll shatter my control, and that's very dangerous."

Heat pooled between her legs, and she swallowed. "I'm not afraid of you."

"You should be." He pressed his erection against her entrance, and he swore when he felt how slick she already was. "Hell, Anya. I have no resistance to you." His gaze went to her mouth. "I want to kiss you so badly right now."

Anya's pulse was thrumming through her, and her blood felt as though it was on fire. "Kiss me, Slade." She tangled her fingers in his hair, her own body starting to tremble with need. She'd never felt drawn to anyone the way Slade called to her. She wasn't afraid of him on any level. His torment, his past, his deadliness...none of it scared her. It defined him, this dangerous, lethal assassin, and that was the man she wanted, the one she burned for. "
Kiss me.
"

"No." His gaze was boring into her as he shifted his hips, pressing his cock harder against her entrance. "I need this. I need you. I..." His eyes darkened. "I need to fuck you, Anya. I've needed to bury myself inside you since the first second I saw you in that bar. I can't hold out anymore." His entire body was shaking with the effort of holding back. "My entire soul burns for you. I can't hold back anymore." Sweat was beading on his brow. "I need you."

The same need was raging through her, and she framed his face with her hands. "Kiss me," she whispered.

Yearning flashed across his face, a stark, raw ache that made her heart turn over. "No." He buried his face in her neck and thrust with his hips, sinking himself deep inside her.

She gasped, gripping his shoulders at the sudden invasion. She hadn't been ready, but at the same time, she had. He slid inside easily, her body welcoming him.

Slade went still, deep inside her, his face still pressed in the curve of her neck. Anya wrapped her arms around his head, holding him close as her body adjusted to him. He was heavy, but not crushing her. She felt safe and shielded beneath his bulk, cherished even.

He pulled back suddenly, easing out of her body and raising his head so he could look at her. His eyes were dark, turbulent with emotion. He braced himself on his elbows and threaded his fingers through hers, trapping them together as he sank deep inside her again. He didn't take his gaze off hers, almost overwhelming her with its intensity.

She shifted restlessly, desire racing through her as he withdrew again, teasing her, stoking the fires burning within her. It was amazing, but it wasn't enough. She needed all of him.
She needed his kiss.
She turned her head and pressed a kiss to the inside of his forearm.

He went still, buried deep inside her, watching her as she kissed his arm. "That feels incredible."

She pulled her hands free of his, and lightly framed his face with her fingers, his whiskers rough beneath her hands. "You don't need to kiss me," she whispered, "but let me kiss you. I need it."

His eyes darkened. "Not on my mouth."

She almost laughed. "You sound like a prostitute," she teased.

"No." He grabbed her wrist, his grip tight. "Don't belittle this even with a joke. Do you not understand this moment? This moment…it's…" He struggled to articulate it. "Anya. This is everything."

Her amusement faded at the intensity of his words. She nodded, her heart aching at his words. "I know." She lightly brought his face down to hers, and she kissed his cheek. He went still as she trailed kisses along his jaw, lightly nipping as she went.

He groaned, his fingers tightening in her hair as she took his earlobe between her teeth and bit gently. Slade swore, and he began moving his hips again, slowly, back and forth, making heat blossom through her. He moved his hand from her hair and cupped her breast, his thumb tracing circles over her nipple.

She gasped, her back instinctively arching toward him, her hips shifting in response to his movements.

He swore, and began to drive deeper and faster, bracing himself on his arms to keep from crushing her. She gripped his shoulders, her gaze riveted to his as he moved inside her. The depth of emotion in his gaze was riveting, but at the same time, it wasn't enough. Her heart cried out for the kiss she knew he couldn't give her. She didn't know why a kiss mattered so much to her. The intimacy of it, maybe? Having sex could be impersonal, two bodies connecting in the absence of emotions. But a kiss was different. With a kiss, the truth came out.

The truth that he could kill her.

S
lade went still
, forcing his hips to a stop. He could feel Anya withdrawing, and it cut him right to the core. The need and lust that had been burning through him hovered in suspended abeyance as he fought to regain control. "What's wrong?"

She searched his face, and he found himself falling into those vibrant eyes, just as he did every time she looked at him. "It's okay, Slade."

He narrowed his eyes. "It's not okay. What's going on?"

Her lips parted to answer him, and then she pressed them together, silencing herself. She shook her head. "Nothing."

But as she said it, her gaze slipped to his mouth. That one look sent heat and desire exploding through him. He swore as his entire being responded to that silent invitation. The need to claim her with his kiss was almost overwhelming. Only a lifetime of discipline kept him from capitulating to his need and making her his. He understood then what she wanted: a kiss. "I can't."

"No?" She met his gaze. "I think you're afraid."

"Shit, yeah, I'm afraid. I almost killed you before." A cold chill crept down his back at the memory of how she'd collapsed after he'd kissed her so thoroughly.

"You didn't, though." She met his gaze, her eyes blazing. "I'm not a machine, Slade. I can't make love like a robot. I know I matter to you, but you have to let me feel it. I need that from you."

Swearing, he withdrew, gritting his teeth as he pulled out of her body. He rolled away from her and stretched out on his back, draping his arm across his eyes as he fought for control. His cock was so hard it hurt, and his body was screaming for the completion he'd denied it.

But there was no way he was going to use her for his own pleasure and leave her empty.

He was okay with being empty inside. He worked hard to attain it. But this brief time with Anya had shown him what it could be like not to live in a void. The sensation of being seen, of having someone look at him like he mattered, being touched, being heard, and having demands made of him...it was insane how powerful it was. It made his existence before her seem like an arid wasteland, one that was sucking him dry.

One drop of rain had made the desert unbearable for him.

She, on the other hand, had grown up in that world of love and affection, and if he dragged her into his world, and thrust the empty chasm of his existence on her, he'd never forgive himself. He would not do that to her by making her feel like a fuck bunny when she was everything to him.

She rolled onto her side to face him. "Don't hide from me," she said softly.

He swore and rolled onto his side so they were face to face. Her hair was tousled, her eyes were sultry with desire, and her skin was glistening with a faint sheen of perspiration. She was more tempting than anything he'd ever seen, and it took all his self-control not to reach for her. Instead, he said simply, "I can't do this."

"Do what?"

"This." He gestured to her body, to the deep brown of her nipples, and the curve of her hips. "Make you feel empty." He swore under his breath. He felt like he had when he'd first met her, uncertain about what to say or how to say it. For a while, he'd become comfortable with her, falling into an easy pattern as her guardian. But now, this arena of sex and intimacy was throwing him off balance. He had no experience with it, other than a mindless rout in the shadows to satisfy some primal need or to get information he needed.

He wasn't going to be stupid enough to say he wanted to fuck her again, but he didn't have other words. "I won't make you feel like shit," he said finally. His gaze settled on a lock of her hair that had fallen forward over her breast. He wanted to move it, to feel its softness, to relish the pure femininity of her.

"You don't." She sighed. "I just...I'm very expressive and physically affectionate. I need that in return." She met his gaze. "I know you use your kiss to kill. I understand that, but I also don't believe you're so weak that you'd hurt me."

"I already did."

"You wouldn't now."

He swore. "Anya, you have no concept of what it feels like to kiss someone and drain their soul. It's instinct for me—"

"You didn't do it when you kissed me at the bar. You didn't do it when you kissed me in the foyer. And you didn't actually kill me in the safe house."

"Because I was in control! Don't you get it? If I make love to you and kiss you, I'm going to be lost to you. I don't have a single shred of discipline when it comes to you." He swore at her surprised expression. "Don't you get it?" He moved closer, heat raging through him. "When I taste your lips, the rest of the world ceases to exist. All that matters is the feel of your mouth against mine. I want to invade your mouth, claim it, and make it mine." Fire began to pulse inside him, licking its way through his veins. "I want to taste every inch of your body. Your nipples, your stomach, your collarbone. I want to kiss my way down your body, lower and lower, until I taste the part of you that you share with no one."

Anya's cheeks flushed, and he caught the scent of her desire, wild, raw, and untamed.

An ancient need hummed through him, and he swore, gritting his jaw with the effort of holding himself back. "I don't know how to be a good guy," he said. "I've made sure it's not a part of who I am."

"Really?" She moved closer, and he stiffened, sucking in his breath when she draped her leg over his hip. "I don't believe you. There's someone you love who you protect with every fiber of your soul. If you were cold, you wouldn't do that. You wouldn't care enough to ensure his safety."

He swallowed as she moved even closer, until her face was almost touching his. Her mouth was hovering over his, her lips so close that he could taste them. He'd never wanted anything as much as he wanted her right now. To taste her again. To claim her. To lose himself in her. To feel alive again, as only she made him feel.

"See me, Slade," she whispered, her blue eyes searching his. "My name is Anya Diaz. I'm a daughter. I'm a best friend. I'm real, Slade, and you know it. Let yourself feel who I am, because I know you treasure life far too much to ever take it, once you let yourself see that it's real."

He closed his eyes, cutting himself off from her, his breath coming in tight gasps as he fought for control.

"Do you know I'm real, Slade? Do you?" She wouldn't let him go, hammering at him with words meant to break through his shields. "Do you know that I breathe? That I cry? That I feel pain? That I feel love?" Her hand went to his chest, and he sucked in his breath as her fingers brushed over his skin so gently it was almost surreal. "Do you know that you're real, too? That you breathe? That you once loved someone, and maybe still do? That you can't hide behind a wall of isolation anymore? You can't go back, Slade. It's too late."

"No!" He opened his eyes and rolled on top of her, rage exploding through him. "It's not too late," he growled desperately. "It's not too late! I can go back. I'm going back!"

She didn't retreat. She just met his gaze. "But do you really want to?" she asked. "Truly?"

"Yes," he whispered, suddenly drained. "I want to wipe my memory of all of this and just return to the life I've carved out for myself. I have to."

She locked her hands behind his head. He could break her grasp easily, but he couldn't make himself do it. He just
couldn't
make himself pull back. "One kiss, Slade. One real kiss where you let yourself truly feel how beautiful your kiss really is."

"I can't." But he couldn't take his gaze off her mouth. Tremors shook his body with the need to lose himself in her. Not just fucking. More than that. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to taste her. He wanted to taste every inch of her body, and then bury himself inside her until all the darkness fled from his soul.

She was so ruthless and relentless in her assault on his isolation. It pissed him off, but at the same time, he felt like she was throwing him an anchor in the middle of a raging storm, and it was up to him to grab it or to let the winds tear him apart.

"Slade." She framed his face with her hands, her fingers so soft he almost couldn't grasp it. "I'll protect you from yourself."

Her statement was so ludicrous that he almost laughed...except something inside him shouted that she was right. That
she
was the one who could save him...even though he didn't want saving. He didn't need saving. He just needed to go back to who he was...except he couldn't. He'd been thrust into a new role, a role that had him grasping for a handhold he couldn't find, making choices he didn't understand, like bringing her back to his home, his greatest sanctuary.

He felt like his mind was spinning and fragmenting, splitting apart, and he couldn't figure out how to put the pieces back together again. Nothing fit. Nothing made sense. Nothing except her. He looked at her, really looked at her. He let himself see the loneliness in her eyes. He traced his finger over the circles under her eyes and the lines of stress around her mouth. He rested his hand over her heart, feeling the steady thump. He saw the faint freckles dotting her cheeks, and the smudges of makeup beneath her eyes, giving her a luminous, haunted beauty.

She was imperfect and flawed, emotional and open...and real, just as she'd hammered at him to see.

Something inside him turned over, and he slid his fingers into her hair. "I see you," he said softly, unable to keep the awe out of his voice. She was real, she was beautiful, and she was life.

She smiled then, a heart-wrenchingly beautiful smile. "And I see you, Slade. You're real, too, no matter how hard you try not to exist." She traced her index finger along his jaw. "We both need to be seen," she said softly. "I need you. I need what you give me. And you need the same thing from me." She took his hand and set it over her heart again. "Look at me, Slade. Do you really believe you could kill me, even by accident?"

He did as she requested, and he looked at her. He let himself see her. He allowed her blue eyes to entrance him. He revisited the pain she'd shared with him when her mother had died. He let himself feel the soft warmth of her breast beneath his palm. He allowed himself to take a deep breath, to inhale the emotions she poured into him. He envisioned the kiss in the bar again, the moment he'd switched his kiss from pleasure to killing. Instantly, revulsion roiled through him, a dark, angry hate for what he'd almost done. Shock rolled through him. "I don't think I could," he said slowly, shocked by the truth of his words.

He couldn't kill her any more than he could kill his own brother.

Victory surged through him, laced with a disbelieving awe. Was it really possible that she was right? That he could kiss her and not fear? Hot, raging desire rushed through him, and silently, he fisted her hair, angling his head until his lips were almost touching hers. "I want you," he whispered, his voice raw and hoarse.

She laced her hands behind his neck again. "There is nothing more important to me than staying alive long enough to find Julia," she said. "I would never put myself in a position where I thought I would not survive it, but I believe in you, Slade. I trust you."

I trust you.
No one had ever trusted him for anything decent in his life. The words reverberated through him, like a bass drum thundering through his soul. He wanted to be that man, the one worthy of those three simple words. He
had
to be that man.

He bent his head, moving slowly, giving her the chance to stop him.

She didn't.

His lips touched hers, a shocking assault to his senses. To protect her, he'd opened himself to her on every level, forcing himself to embrace every essence of her being. His heightened awareness changed the kiss from sensuality and sex to something so much more potent and overwhelming. Desire ripped through him, plunging right to his gut, ignited by the simple sensation of her lips against his, by the taste of her mouth.

He angled his head, deepening the kiss, sliding his tongue between her teeth. Her response was passionate and unhesitating, kissing him back as if all of her barriers had been torn down as well. Lightning seemed to flood the room with white flashes and searing fire. With a low growl, he dragged her against him, unable to contain the need pouring through him. Her kiss was like the oxygen he'd lived without for so long, flooding him with strength and light, everything he needed in order to live.

Her curves meshed with the hard lines of his body as he folded her against him, devouring her with kisses that were so much more than he'd ever delivered before. It was mutual, a sharing of pleasure unlike he'd ever experienced before. His kisses had always been one-sided, an offering of peace to the souls he was about to claim. Even when he'd kissed her before, he'd held back, accustomed to remaining impassive during the most intense passion.

But she'd wrested his control from him. At the same time, she'd given him permission to experience the kiss for his own pleasure, to bask in her response, to appreciate the joy he could give her. It became about mutual satisfaction and exploration, about expression and appreciation.

He broke the kiss and trailed his mouth over her breasts, his hands greedily spanning her hips, and tracing over her thighs and ass. Every inch of her was pure sensation, unbridled perfection, and flawed humanity. He loved the saltiness of her skin, evidence of the sweat she'd shed fighting for her life. It made her real.

Greedily, he swept his mouth across her body, tasting every inch of her while his hands framed her hips, holding her still, keeping her close. He'd never experienced his own kiss before, not like this. He'd always held back, observing his kiss, evaluating the response of his victim, carefully monitoring what he was doing.

But now, he let himself become swept up in the mesmerizing experience of the kiss. He closed his eyes, focusing all his senses on the feel of her skin beneath his lips. The taste of her flesh. He could feel the quivers of her muscles beneath his kiss as he moved across her belly, lower and lower.

She twisted beneath him, the intoxicating scent of her desire tantalizing him even more. He parted her legs and kissed her damp folds, the same way he'd done before, only this time, he let himself experience it. It was a rush to be so attuned to her body and her responses. She tasted of honey and sweetness, and a darker twist of something that called to him, summoning him. He growled low in his chest and kissed his way back up her body, parting her legs with his knee.