Jaded by Anya Bast

going to try and find the kitchen for a glass of water.”
    “I’ll show you where it is.”
    She followed him down a corridor and into a large kitchen, larger than the one at the Temple of Dreams. Their footsteps echoed. He lit two lamps, sought a glass for her, and filled it with water from the water pipes running through his home. Not many could afford pipes or had a large enough water supply to draw from.
    “Don’t you get lonely in this big house all by yourself?” She accepted the glass of water and sank into a nearby chair. It was chilly in the huge room and she shivered.
    “Now that my family is gone, yes, sometimes, but I’m used to it being big and empty. You’re used to a bustling house with lots of people in it at all times.”
    “It helps me feel less lonesome. I hate feeling lonely.” She sipped her water. “I guess I felt so alone after my father died that I developed a serious aversion to it. It’s one of the reasons I didn’t stay in the house you so graciously provided for me. After what happened, I could have easily become a recluse there.”
    “I’m glad you didn’t. The world benefits from your presence.” He paused. “Alek is already warming to you.”
    In the low light of the room, she studied him. “You’re a strange man, Byron, wanting what you want from me. I don’t understand it.” She finished the rest of her water and stood, pulling her wrap more firmly around her against the chill. “I’ve never met anyone like you.”
    “I’m unique, am I? I’ll take that as a compliment.”
    “Indeed, you’re matchless in your inscrutability.”
    His brows rose. “Am I now?”
    Hiding a smile, she walked over to set the glass on the counter, coming deliberately close to him. She was pleased when he didn’t back away. His body felt nice, warming her through her clothes. They had nice rapport. There were few men she shared this kind of energy with and, with this particular man, she wanted to explore it further. And not because she could control it, or use it, or because she wanted him to pay her.
    She just wanted him because he was Byron .
    He turned toward her and cupped her face in his hands. Lowering his head, he tasted her lips and her knees went weak. His mouth dragged across hers slowly as he rocked her back against the counter. It seemed like she’d been waiting forever for this.
    “Lilya, I want you,” he whispered. “Having you here, so close to me, and not touching you, it’s torture.”
    “I want you too, Byron, you know that.” Her hands found his waist and the hem of the shirt he slept in. His skin beneath felt warm under her palms, the muscles of his back tight as he moved. He brushed the shoulder of her night wrap, pulling it down and off. It slithered to the floor at her feet. She didn’t even feel the cold, not when she was in his arms.
    “I’ve wanted this for a long time,” he murmured against her lips.
    “So have I.” Her nipples had gone hard and pressed through the thin fabric of her nightgown. “I’ve chosen all my partners, but I’m not sure I’ve wanted to be with a man as much as I want to be with you right now.” Her voice trembled from the force of that desire.
    He stilled in the semidark, one hand at the nape of her neck, and stared down at her as if he couldn’t believe what she’d just said. For a moment he looked like he would say something, but instead he lowered his mouth and kissed her again, this time slanting his mouth hungrily over hers and slipping his tongue deep into her mouth.
    She gripped his upper arms, appreciating the bunch and flex of them as he made minute movements. Anticipation thrilled through her body, raced through her veins, and set her heart to thumping out a crazy rhythm she hadn’t felt in years.
    He broke the kiss softly and murmured against her lips, “Then come to my bedroom and let’s do this right.”
    Her answer came without hesitation. “Yes.” She forced herself not to whimper and add a please .