Tarian.
Minutes later…
Wine decadent, perfect, sits on the table between us.
The scent of pine and strawberries and the salty sea fills the air, making everything feel sensual.
The fire crackling in the intricately designed fireplace heats the room, warming the space, but I know it isn’t the fire, or the wine, or the food that makes everything burn.
It’s her.
It’s the heat everything she is sends my way.
Everything about Muireann is art.
A delicious art of seduction.
Her business.
Her thriving pearl farm.
Her home.
Her.
She’s danger posed as a human.
Seduction personified.
“Second round successful for you, Tarian.” Her voice flows smoothly now.
I smile at her.
My heart beats fast not from fear of this dangerous game we’ve been playing for minutes.
No.
From fear of what she does to me.
“So it seems.” My grin comes easily, despite the way my heart slams against my chest.
I slide the revolver across the glass table to her.
It stops right in front of her.
She doesn’t look at it.
Her gaze stays on me.
Her lips pout into that dangerous shape that makes me want to cross the space between us.
Suck them.
Bite them.
“You should be afraid.
Very afraid.” Her voice is light.
Not pressing.
Almost curious.
“But I’m not,” I say smoothly.
Her eyes widen for just a second before settling back into that controlled, knowing gaze.
“It’s a revolver, Tarian.
Why aren’t you scared?” She asks.
Then her eyes flicker with something unreadable.
“Or aren’t you scared of death?”
I look at her, really look at her.
Shouldn’t I be scared of death?
She’s right.
I should be.
We’re playing Russian roulette with a real revolver.
And yet here I am, untouched by fear of the bullet going off.
Unterrified of dying.
What terrifies me is her.
What this moment, this room, this woman draped in pearls can do to me.
I pick up the golden revolver, testing its weight in my hand, feeling her eyes on me the entire time.
The tension thickens.
Presses.
Breathes.
Then I kneel before her.
I watch her eyes as I lift the revolver to my head.
To my temple.
Her eyes widen, just a fraction.
“It’s supposed to be my turn.” She reminds me, her voice small.
Weak, even.
I smile, leaning closer.
She’s right.
It is her turn.
But I want her to understand something.
“You’re right.
It’s your turn, Muireann.” My grin turns devilish as I press the tip of the gun to my temple.
She doesn’t look away.
“But I want you to know it isn’t this gun that frightens me.
Though it should.”
She watches me, intrigued.
I shut my eyes and pull the trigger.
My heart crashes violently as I wait for the inevitable.
Nothing.
Again.
My heart still beats.
My breath still moves through me.
I snap my eyes open and meet her stunned gaze.
I won.
Three rounds.
I won.
She watches me now with a new kind of interest.
“If the gun didn’t frighten you… then what did?”
I set the revolver down slowly.
Then I trail my fingers along hers.
She recoils at first, but then she stills, allowing me.
I move along her bare arms, up her shoulders, until my fingers hover over the kiss tattoo nestled in the valley of her breasts.
I don’t touch.
I hover.
She lets me.
“You frighten me, Muireann.” I breathe, the emphasis sharp on ‘you’.
My chest loosens as the words leave me.
Her gaze snaps to mine, sharp, stunned.
Her lips part.
And again, I’m helplessly drawn to them.
Painted deep red.
Dangerous.
“I want to kiss you.” I admit. The source of this chapter is novelping.com.
She licks her lower lip.
Watches my mouth.
Bites down gently before lifting her gaze back to mine.
“Then what’s stopping you?”
The question stuns me, briefly.
Then I close the space between us and press my lips to hers.
Shaky.
Relieved.
Hurried.
I drink her in.
She kisses me back.
Our moans fill the room as the kiss deepens.
I pull her into my arms, lift her effortlessly, and carry her to the nearest sofa.
I sit, settling her onto my lap.
She straddles me.
Presses closer.
Moans deeply, her fingers threading into my hair.
I loosen her bun, sinking my hands into her hair as I grind my hips against her parted thighs.
She mewls into my mouth.
My hands slip beneath her dress, finding her breasts, rubbing, teasing, tweaking her n*pples.
“Tarian…” She moans against my lips.
The sound wrecks me.
Sends a violent jolt straight to my core.
My c*ck swells painfully inside my pants.
She rocks against me, and I guide her hips harder, needier.
She lifts her dress, slips her hand between us, unzips me, frees me and sinks herself down onto me.
We both grunt as she stretches around me, as I fill her completely.
We still.
Eyes locked.
Faces tight with pleasure.
Her heat slick and perfect around me.
My body throbbing for her.
I kiss her deeply again and start to move, guiding her hips as she rolls against me.
Our moans tear through the room.
Our bodies move as one.
I kiss the tattoo on her chest.
She moans for me, dragging her teeth across my shoulder.
Just as I feel her cresting, just as I feel myself tipping, she stills.
She watches me as she speaks.
“I never loaded the gun.”
The words stun me and then she moves again.
My orgasm rips through me at the same moment hers tears free.
At the same time I’m trying to make sense of what she’s just confessed.
We come together, shattering, gasping.
Crossing a line.
A line in my marriage I never thought I would cross.
Cheating on my wife.