Beastly Passions (22 page)

“You’ve taken me on any and every available surface you could from the moment I gave you permission to, yet now you’d like to ask what it is that prompted me into saying yes?” she asked, watching him. “Why? Do you need me to cup your ego by the balls?”

“As you’ve already had it in your mouth several times, I don’t find myself concerned for whether you will touch it again.”

She bit back a grin. “I’m feline. Natural curiosity often causes bad decision making.”

“You lie when the truth will do.”

Waving a hand, she dismissed his words. “And you bore me with all of your theories. Are we finished cavorting now, or would you like to harass me with your thoughts some more?”

“You know,” he whispered, suddenly at her side. “I do so enjoy when you make me work for it.” And then he lunged…

Difficult
and troublesome indeed. But she was no less worth the pains it took to get her to smile; to look at him the way she did when she assumed he wasn’t paying attention. She could continue to deny it aloud as much as she desired, but Taras knew the truth of her feelings. He felt the weight of them each time she drug him from what she continued to refer to as his laboratory for bed because she felt as though he’d been puttering about long enough and needed sleep. Each time that she faithfully grumbled about being removed from her work, but followed wherever he led her despite her dramatic complaints. When she helpfully weighed in on a decision he had to make in business, but didn’t set out to leave him looking like an absolute imbecile because he hadn’t been able to answer the question himself. She thought it was him who took care of her with his impromptu lunches and adventures far away from the office and home. However, it was truly her who took care of
him
. His need to please her had forced him from the confines of his cage. Before Asha he had repetitively explored different parts of the world at the prompting of his father’s bidding, yet he never truly saw anything. Every road traveled was a blur, a forgetful jumble of sights. Now he found himself stopping to absorb each detail before him as he saw them through her ever-inquisitive eyes.

They’d toured the botanical gardens, had strolled the beaches of Astafyev’s Bay, and walked the halls of museums. There had been trips to markets and restaurants that one wouldn’t notice at first glance. And she never attempted to change or restrain him. She didn’t ask that he suddenly become sociable or even approachable. Though he made the effort for her benefit, his wife didn’t force his hand or twist his arm. He still smiled rarely, and when he did it was in her presence. His humor remained as dry as it had always been and she didn’t demand that he suddenly become neighborly. Although she often times accused him of being as brutish as ever—such as the other night when he’d removed their bedroom door from the hinges—she seemed rather content with him. Taras could take satisfaction in that. He could convince himself that contentedness was all he needed. He just simply had to keep working at it.

“If I don’t make you work for it,” Asha quipped from his arms as he hauled her up against him. “It will be just another thing that has been handed to you because you’re a bully.”

Taras frowned. “Me? A bully? Never.”

She rolled her eyes heavenward. “You are a bully in its purest form and will convince me no different.”

“Are you saying that I bully you into your lust?” he asked, beginning to loosen his hold. “Because
that
is untrue.”

“I’m saying that because of you I was in need of a new door.”

“Heh.”

Asha stopped and examined him. “What?”

“You’re right. Perhaps I
do
bully you.” He completely released her, leaving her to stumble backwards and then headed for the truck. It was when he reached it that he noticed she hadn’t moved. Casting a glance over his shoulder, he took in how she remained where she was with the most enchanting expression on her face—confusion. “Are you not coming?”

Her brows only dipped lower.

“You’ve complained several times that you have work to do. I thought that you may want to get back to this as opposed to…cavorting, as you called it.”

Drawing up, Asha nodded sharply. “Yes, yes I do.”

“Then perhaps it would do you good to cover up.” Taras threw her his shirt, watching as it landed on her head and bit down on his tongue to trap the laughter lingering in his mouth.

His wife snatched it down and jerkily placed it on. “All right.”

He watched in amusement and then dressed himself in what was left. Afterwards, he waited for her to climb back into the cab and had to resist the urge to ask her if all was well when she snatched her seatbelt across her chest in the most aggressive manner. If nothing else, he was sure that would have earned him a slap. He wanted to teach her a lesson, not piss her off.

Asha
wanted to
scream.
What was wrong with him? All of the posturing and talking and silliness only to leave her frustrated and wanting? It was the most maddening thing he’d done all day. He was the one who’d said that their volley of words led to nice, rough fucks. And gods was it true. It was
sooo
true. She loved that. The control that he gave her. Aggravating him, allowing him to incense her, it all traveled the same ridiculous and potent path. But now he was quitting that? Why? Why would he alter the formula?

“Can I trouble you to share the shower?” Taras questioned as she just about stormed into their bathroom with him on her heels. “I find that it is easier to reach lower back when you are there.”

She gritted her teeth for all of a few seconds before realizing what this was. He wanted to “shower” with her. All right, she was capable of playing along. Unbuttoning his shirt, Asha stripped it from herself and walked it to the nearby hamper, dumping it.

“Of course.”

He smiled and turned away from her to undress, causing her to frown. Taras had nothing to be ashamed of. He never turned away from her. If anything, he attempted to get right in her line of sight so she could be as distracted as possible by the rigid physique he’d spent all of his years honing. Swallowing, Asha paced towards the stall and then flipped the knobs to set the temperature where she generally had it when they bathed together. She climbed in and waited for him to do the same. He did. He soaped up, requested her help in reaching his lower back as he always did and rinsed off.

Asha watched him through lids that were half-mast, more than pleased with the view. Pretty men had never been an interest of hers. She was fairly certain she had never given most a second look, but her spouse managed to balance the line between lush and rugged, making her quiver. He noticed the way she paid close attention to his routine and winked her way.

She took that as a sign that he would then proceed to make his move as he always did. Instead when he grasped her by the hips this time, it was to slide her out of his way so that he could step out of the stall, snatch down a clean towel and cover himself.

Gaze now narrowed, she glared on as he strolled from the bathroom into
his
room while whistling and closed the door. When she heard the lock click after that, she’d had quite enough! It was disturbing. The need to be under his skin and have him under her own. So quick and reckless it came. Without any regard for her pride or—at the very least—her ego.

The water went off and she was out of the stall in a pace that told of her inhuman attributes. Her balled hand hit Taras’ door with enough force to make the frame tremble. Footsteps padded towards it, the lock was flicked open and then the door cracked. It
cracked!

“Yes?” he asked mildly from the other side as though she were a stranger.

Pressing her palms to the wood, Asha shoved it the rest of the way. He went with it, obviously surprised. She stepped across the threshold of his sparsely furnished quarters and rounded on him.

“Just what in the hell are you doing?”

Shocked and still in his towel, her husband blinked. “I’m sorry?”

“This,”—Asha motioned to his slick form—“what are you doing?”

“Drying off?” he retorted as if she were simple minded.

“No, you imbecile,” she snapped. “Down at the lake you were practically ready to impale me and now here you are, acting like a chaste teenage boy in a locker room of men.”

“If we are being honest, your tone of voice currently puts me in a frame of mind such as this. I do not feel particularly secure at the moment.”

She began to yell and stopped herself. “I would like to know what happened to your intent to antagonize me so that we could enjoy ourselves as we always do.”

“I think perhaps I should stop this,” he told her solemnly. Before she could question why, he went on with, “I would not want you to feel…bullied.”

Her mouth opened and closed several times. As she stood in the middle of his floor, dripping water onto his carpet and well aware that she was bare, she took in the smugness to his expression and felt a growl lodging itself in the middle of her chest. “You did this on purpose.”

“I know not what you mean.”

“You
wanted
me to make an ass out of myself, storming in here without any really knowledge as to why your ignoring me was so bothersome.” Asha fisted her hands at her sides. “You’re the worst.”

“Clearly I am not if I can get you to react such as this.” He motioned to her nakedness. “I have to say, I thought it would take longer.”

“Oh!” She started past him, only to have him take her by the forearm and swing her back around.

“No, no, no. You came in here for my attention. Now you may receive it.”

“I don’t want it!”

As he typically did, he laughed. It was such a full, joyous sound. She loathed and adored it. “You do, but as usual pride has been a hindrance.” His palm moved from her forearm to her belly. “This is the difference between you and I. It is why you will never win in our games, because you do not know when you have the upper hand, wife. You could do no more than curl a finger and I would come crawling through blood and shit and death to get to you. But you don’t relish in that power. Instead you downplay and ignore it. Why? Because you are too afraid to admit that the entire reason you would curl that finger is because you
need
me to come crawling as much as I need to do so.”

Asha swallowed down her previous annoyance and silently admitted that he was correct.

“Your righteous indignation is beautiful,” Taras said against her nape. He bit her there and sucked. “Tits heaving high, the angles of your face sharper and your eyes cutting.” He shuddered behind her and ground into her buttocks, causing her lips to part. “Makes me harder than anything else ever has.”

The spark she felt in her gut from the confession turned something in her. Whatever it was had to have been a duality of the viciousness she’d come to know since taking him as her husband. It was poignant and thirsty and eager. Why did she deny herself that power indeed?

Perhaps it was because something small and spiteful inside thought she shouldn’t have this. That she shouldn’t enjoy it. That she should continue to compartmentalize Taras as the thing that hid in the shadows.

“Am I reprehensible because you want me? Or do you want me because I’m reprehensible?

The answer to the latter may have very well been yes. That could have been his draw. That he was dark and dangerous. But Asha couldn’t examine it now. She couldn’t analyze or dig deeper. Not with the rasp of his hands edging up her ribcage. Or the way his towel had fallen to the floor in a whisper of fabric. The pulse of his erection against her lower back and the suction of his mouth on her shoulder all kept her blissfully ignorant of her own secrets. For now, she would enjoy that.

Asha took his hands from her and twisted. The low lighting in his room reflected off of his irises and made him look more animalistic than usual. The quake it sent through her made her take a step back. One after the other followed and she only halted once her calves had bumped the lower part of his bed’s structure. She dipped and sat at the edge of his mattress.

Lifting a hand, she crooked her pointer finger and commanded, “So then crawl.”

Taras’ brows rose; as did the corners of his mouth. His grin was nothing less than absolutely wolfish and he dropped to his knees without a murmur of protest. The length of his back and the width of his shoulders contracted as they worked in tandem with his legs moving in her direction. Too aroused to speak and too afraid as to what would leave her if she did, Asha cinched down on the bottom rim of her lips and waited in agony as he swayed closer. He came with his languid, feline grace, stopping before her feet and placing his hands on her thighs. Taras spread them with enough force to make her take notice and she curled her fingers into his comforter.

Her husband’s head dipped and she felt his breath fan across her inner thigh before his fangs scraped against the over sensitized flesh. She hummed and he repeated the action, his eyes focused solely on her features as he did so. It was so intrusive. Having him touch her this way and watch her simultaneously. He refused her the escape of looking away. His tongue flicked out and made her jolt as he edged closely to the now puffed lips of her pussy where her clit had plumped.