Aisling slid from his back without him saying anything. His body tightened in protest. He turned and took in the sight of her. She was pale, blood-covered, her eyes shadowed with emotions he couldn’t read.

He took her hand and they hurried the remaining distance to her house. When they were safely inside, he followed her into the bathroom. Bloody clothes hit the floor an instant before she wrenched the shower curtain open.

In those first few minutes, as red water swirled around their feet before disappearing down the drain, Zurael wasn’t sure she was aware of him. But when the water finally cleared, she looked up and met his eyes. Heated need flashed between them.

The reasons he’d stepped away from her earlier flickered through his mind briefly and then were gone. His breath caught in his throat when she lathered her hands and touched his chest.

His cock bobbed against his abdomen. Stretched upward as if it wanted to reach her fingers.

“You saved my life,” she said, stroking across his nipples, then down his sides, driving the hunger higher with her caress.

He placed his hand on her neck and wanted to kill her assailant all over again for the bruises left on her throat. Her pulse thundered against his palm. Her eyes darkened with desire as he followed the delicate line of her neck to her shoulder. She licked her lips when his other hand settled on her hip, mimicking the slow slick glide of her fingers on his sides.

“We shouldn’t,” she whispered.

He knew she was right. He knew it didn’t matter.

Her nipples were hard, tight points begging for his attention. She closed her eyes and arched her back when his fingers traced her collarbone, then slid down to circle a pale pink areola. He leaned in and captured its twin with his mouth.

Lust spiked through him as her belly rubbed against his cock. His hand moved from her hip to her lower back. Now that he was touching her he couldn’t stop.

Her sweet moans turned the shower into a sultry paradise. Her aroused scent made his penis weep and throb.

Zurael wanted to bathe in her. To plunge into her wet, hot depths. He wanted to thrust in and out of her until she screamed his name and summoned the lava-hot release of his seed.

He burned for her with the primal fire of the Djinn. It snaked through his veins in a roar that couldn’t be denied.

Zurael forced himself away from her breast and turned off the water. There would be other times for taking her in the shower. This first time he wanted her underneath him.

Aisling stepped from the shower stall. She toweled herself dry, though she could barely take her eyes off Zurael’s glistening body.

He was hard muscle and easy strength, masculine promise and otherworldly sensuality. There were those who would burn her at the stake if they found out she’d lain with him. She didn’t care.

She burned with the need to feel him against her, inside her. Longed to lose herself completely in the passion he promised.

Later she would remember what happened at Sinners. Later the guilt would assault her. For now she wanted her only reality to be what she shared with him.

She squeezed the water from her braid as best she could, then passed the towel to him. Watched as he rubbed it over his slick skin.

His cock pulsed when her gaze lingered on it. His testicles were smooth globes, like a stallion’s.

Aisling shivered as she imagined him covering her like a stallion mounts a mare. She turned her head slightly, flushed and aroused, already wet and parted for him-a willing participant in a seduction that might leave her damned.

When his hand took hers, she entwined her fingers with his. Anticipation and need built with each step toward the bed.

He paused next to it and pulled her tight against him. She kissed his throat as her hands roamed over his back and buttocks.

When she would have lifted her face and sought his lips, he eased her backward, onto the blanket. “Zurael,” she whispered, arching as his mouth found her breast again and he began suckling.

It felt as though his lips reached between her thighs and pulled wave after wave of pleasure from deep inside her womb. Her clit stood at attention. It throbbed to the rhythm of his mouth sucking her nipple.

His hands reached under her buttocks, urged her to spread her thighs so the slick folds of her labia and her erect clit were pressed against his heated belly. Aisling moaned. Her channel clenched and released. Her hands went to his hair.

She whimpered in frustration. His hair was wet and tightly braided, just as hers was.

He kissed lower. He teased her belly button with his tongue, stabbed in and out in the same way she wanted him to do to her mouth.

Lust made Zurael nearly mindless. The siren song of his name on Aisling’s lips made him want to press his mouth to hers and share his soul. He was saved from temptation by the heady musk of her arousal, by the lure of her petal-soft lower lips and the feminine mystery of her cunt.

She was ready for him. Her folds were slick and swollen, open, like a night-blooming flower. He could no more turn away from the sweet nectar of her than he could turn away from water in the desert.

He pressed his mouth to her soft skin and reveled in the way she arched and cried his name. He swiped his tongue along her slit and found the taste of her more intoxicating than any wine.

Aisling was lost in sensation, in the hot press and retreat of his tongue. His name was a litany she repeated over and over again.

Her hands went to her breasts, cupping, rubbing, tweaking the hardened nipples as he laved and kissed her lower lips, as he thrust into her with his tongue. She cried out when his mouth found her clit and he began sucking. Her hips jerked to the rhythm he set.

She was helpless against him, helpless against what he made her feel. “Please,” she said, panting, barely able to breathe under his onslaught.

He tightened his grip on her buttocks as if he were afraid she’d try to escape. His tongue joined his lips in tormenting her swollen clit. It swirled over the exposed head, stroked the sensitive underside until she was desperately fucking the tiny organ through his lips.

Aisling’s hands left her breasts and grabbed the bedding as erotic sensation rolled through her. The sounds of his pleasure fed her own. The image of him between her thighs was burned forever in her memory.

His tongue was a flame licking over her, filling her, turning her blood into molten lava until finally her cunt clenched and spasmed in a release that left her crying, as if only tears could extinguish the fire inside her.

But even the wetness of her tears wasn’t enough. She still ached. She still needed. She still wanted to feel his body against hers, in hers.

Zurael was desperate to couple with her, desperate beyond anything he’d known in centuries of existence. He wanted to lie on top of Aisling and press his mouth to hers. He wanted to share her taste in a deeply carnal kiss. He wanted to feel the slide of her tongue against his and swallow her whimpers as his cock pressed deep inside her channel.

Dangerous, she was so dangerous to him. If he wasn’t careful, she’d possess his soul and command him, even without binding him with the incantation the god had given to his mud creatures.

He lifted his mouth from her lush, wet cunt but didn’t give Aisling time to tempt him into crawling up her body.

Zurael positioned her on her hands and knees. He reveled in the way she went willingly, in the way she spread her thighs and pressed backward, enticing him to penetrate her.

Primitive pleasure surged through him at the sight of her readiness. His cock pulsed and leaked. His balls tightened in warning.

It was a torturous exercise in control to keep from impaling her with one hard thrust. He moaned as he pressed the tip of his penis against her heated opening. He panted and struggled to go slowly.