Carpathian 18 - Dark Possesion

me. For men. I don't just sleep with anyone." This so wasn't coming out right because she honestly couldn't think with him looking at her like that.
    "I am grateful for your rules."
    There was a faint quirk to his mouth that only added to his allure. How could she explain she felt her self-respect and years of restraint were about to go flying out the window? If she was alone with him, she'd be doing her best to seduce him, or just plain beg for him to slam her up against the nearest wall and have his way with her.
    She had never wanted a relationship with a man that was comfortable. She had wanted all-consuming passion or nothing at all. She'd settled for nothing at all. She had fantasized about a relationship with a man who could inspire hot erotic licks of electricity running up and down her spine, where she met him in a grocery store wearing absolutely nothing beneath a coat, or danced with him in a sensual haze at a party, his hands moving on her skin, knowing, needing , that they wouldn't make it home before they succumbed to their desire for each other. Now here it was, every fantasy she had ever dreamt of.
    MaryAnn was fairly certain Manolito De La Cruz was the hottest man alive. He dripped sensuality. From every look and mannerism to the set of his shoulders, the thickness of his chest, the way his hips narrowed and the all-too-impressive bulge in the front or his jeans. His eyes were heavy-lidded and smoky with lust for her. While that stark hunger made her heart pound and her body go into serious meltdown, the truth was, in every single fantasy, the man had been wild about her, deeply in love. One without the other wasn't acceptable to her.

    "If I go off alone with you again now, Manolito, I'm not certain I could live with myself afterward."
    "I will do nothing you cannot live with."
    From the sound of his voice, he hoped to do things she couldn't live without, and that was exactly what she feared. Because she so wanted those things. She wanted him to teach her all the things she dreamt about, she wanted to belong to him, to have him love her, show her that the things in her mind could be real, not just imagined.
    "You are not letting me into your mind."
    Was there hurt in his voice? The last thing she wanted to do was hurt him. "I don't know how to let you in or out of my mind. I honestly have no idea why you all think I'm psychic. Jasmine thought I saved her from the mage. The wind was horrendous; a branch broke off and fell on him. I didn't do that. How could I have?"
    In a way she was very grateful he couldn't get into her mind. He would never get in if she had anything to do with it. All she needed was for him to read her fantasies and she would be in more trouble than she could imagine—and she had far too vivid an imagination when it came to sex.
    Manolito's dark eyes drifted possessively over her face. "Come with me, MaryAnn. Let me show you my world."
    She shouldn't go. She was asking for trouble if she went. She sighed. Of course she was going with him. She was going because she'd lost her mind, because she could still taste him in her mouth and feel his hands on her body and she ached inside and out for him. "I'm bringing the pepper spray."
    His faint smile sent tiny, flickering flames of arousal licking over her breasts and down her belly, dancing along her inner thighs until she felt searing heat scorch her most feminine core. She let her breath out, feeling as if she'd just leapt off a cliff.
    "I would expect nothing less than pepper spray," he answered, his voice tinged with amusement.
    That small note of humor, one she suspected was rare in him, just added to his allure. She lifted her gaze to his and was lost in the absolute focus and intensity she saw there—for her. Nothing—no one—existed for him but her in that moment.
    With exquisite gentleness, he wrapped his arms around her and drew her slowly up against his body. His skin was hot and hard and smelled masculine. His midnight hair brushed across her face as he lifted her, sliding her body up his so that she felt the thickness and length of his erection pressed deep into her softer body. "Put your arms around my neck and your legs around my waist. If you still fear flying, press your face into my neck so you cannot see. Trust me to take care of you, MaryAnn."
    There was a terribly intimate note in the velvet rasp of his voice husky and promising and altogether shocking, as if sin lived and breathed in him and reached to wrap her