Carpathian 23 - Dark Storm

more. Was there shyness
     in his voice? Not quite, but certainly a hesitant charm she found intriguing. She
     turned over and as he sat up, so did she, stifling a yawn. He traced the pad of his
     finger down her cheek to her lower lip.
    “You have this very tempting lip that makes me want to lean over and just bite,” he
     said very softly.
    She found herself blushing. She wasn’t a woman who blushed, but then men didn’t say
     blatantly sexual things to her as a rule. Her mother always told her she was intimidating,
     unapproachable and too striking. The combination, according to Annabel, was lethal
     when meeting men. Only the bravest would dare to get shot down. Of course mothers
     had to say things like that—maybe they even believed it. Riley had never bought into
     her mother’s explanations.
    His finger caressed her lip, soft brushstrokes threatening to steal her sanity. She
     had an incredible, and completely out of character urge, to draw that finger into
     her mouth. He was temptation personified—the serpent in the garden—and she was falling
     faster than Eve ever thought of eating that apple.
    She made a sound, she knew she managed something, but his eyes, with those small red-orange
     flames flickering with such heat, surrounded by the longest lashes she’d ever seen,
     were so distracting and intense.
    “Do you want your gift?” he asked softly.
    Her gaze dropped to his perfectly molded mouth. If she leaned forward just a few inches . . .
    “ Sivamet , are you awake?”
    There was laughter in his voice. Riley had it bad, because that laughter resonated
     through her body, setting every nerve on fire. She managed a nod, completely mesmerized
     by him. She had wanted out of the classroom, wanted some adventure, but she had never
     considered she might find . . . him .
    “This is an ancient tradition,” he explained as he gave her a single flower.
    The blossom was large, much like a lily but shaped like a star. The petals were open
     to reveal the inside, the ovary a deep ruby red with two striped filaments. The shape
     and size of the stigma brought the color flooding to her face—that particular part
     looked like a very large erection. She knew flowers, her mother grew every kind, but
     this one, stunningly beautiful, definitely could be used to explain sex.
    “Taste it.”
    She blinked at him. Swallowed. She didn’t know why that sounded sexy. Everything he
     said and did seemed to be sexy.
    “Use your tongue to stroke along the . . .”
    “Um. I get it.” She couldn’t possibly.
    Her eyes, captured by his, refused to look away. She was caught there, in those mesmerizing
     eyes, trapped, unable to defend herself. Her tongue darted out and she touched that
     bulbous head tentatively. At once taste burst through her mouth, vibrant and spicy.
     Addicting. She licked along the underside and all around the head, seeking more of
     the elusive flavor.
    Dax leaned closer until she could feel his warm breath against her neck. “Do you like
     it?”
    “It’s amazing,” she admitted. “I’ve never tasted anything like this.”
    “The flower takes on the taste of the giver.”
    His gaze bored into hers, compelling her to get every last drop, the intensity of
     desire sending a shiver through her body. Why in the world would she find his declaration
     hot? And why couldn’t she stop devouring the fragile flower, craving that spicy taste.
     The petals, soft velvet, held his scent. She felt surrounded by him with each stroke
     of her tongue, drawing that nectar into her body.
    “Hand it to me.” He didn’t take his eyes from hers.
    Reluctantly she took one last lingering lick along the stigma and handed him back
     the flower. Holding her gaze, he dipped his head, his mouth in the bloom. His tongue
     found the filaments and ovary, devouring the nectar collected there. She’d never seen
     anything so sexy in her life. Her entire body went hot.
    “Your taste is addictive.” His gaze burned into hers. Blatantly sexual.
    A flood of liquid heat added to her discomfort. Tension coiled in her belly, slithered
     through her deepest core until she crawled with need. She pressed her lips tightly
     together as he took his time obviously savoring the inside of the flower. His gaze
     burned over her, those tiny flames growing hotter and wilder as he ate out the night
     flower.
    By the time he lifted his head, his eyes were glowing. “Kneel up for a moment.”
    She didn’t think to