Jaded by Anya Bast Page A

The depth of her desire for this man frightened her, yet she was far too immersed in her need to put a stop to this. Desire overrode good sense and she didn’t care.
    He took her by the hand, a hand that felt warm and strong in hers, and led her up the stairs to his bedroom. Anticipation of being intimate with him raced through her blood in a way she’d never experienced. Six years ago he’d been all she’d wanted and had never been able to have.
    And now, he was hers, if perhaps only just for a night.
    A low fire burned in the enormous stone hearth that dominated one wall. To her right stood a divan, two chairs, and a low table. At the other end of the room was a huge four-poster bed, the size of which only the very wealthy possessed, covered with pillows at the top, soft sheets, and a thick comforter, all mussed from his body. For a crazy moment she resisted the urge to dive across the room, into the bed, and roll in the scent of him that undoubtedly lingered in the blanket folds. Soon she would have the real thing—his bare body up against hers.
    They’d left her wrap on the floor of the kitchen. He lifted her nightgown over her head, tossing it to the couch. Then he stood back and took in her nude body, bathed by the gentle glow of the fire that burned in the great stone hearth.
    “You are more beautiful than I ever imagined.” His voice was low, gruff, filled with an intense arousal that heated her blood.
    She stepped toward him, intending to make him every bit as nude as she was, but he lifted her suddenly into his arms, making her squeal with surprise. He walked her over to the bed and tossed her down onto the mattress. The softness of the bed enveloped her, making her laugh for the sheer joy of being with him. She rolled in the comforter, burying her face in his pillow and inhaling the scent that clung to it—leather, a little wood smoke, and a hint of his spicy aftershave. Heaven .
    Byron made a low, hungry sound in the back of his throat. “You look good in my bed, Lilya. I may decide to keep you there for the next three weeks.”
    She rolled onto her back and looked at him. “I have no problem with that.” The words came out a little breathless. “Come here.”

Seven

    H e pulled his shirt over his head and Lilya’s breath caught. Like Alek, Byron was not as weak-limbed as one might presume since he was rich and, therefore, relatively idle. She would have to ask both of them about that soon. She’d always known that Byron had strength; it was apparent under his clothes. His chest and upper arms were pleasingly muscled as if he engaged in some kind of hard exercise on a regular basis.
    It was rare she had such men in her bed, but she enjoyed it. It made her feel protected in a way that she supposed harkened back to the primal days of their species. Woman, wanting the protection of a man’s strong arms. Byron was the first and only man ever to make her feel that way . . . truly protected.
    This was the first time in years she’d had a liaison with a man that wasn’t carefully planned out, but this was Byron. She felt free to let herself go with him. She trusted him.
    Byron lowered himself onto the mattress, coming over her, his gaze completely caught with hers. “You’re going to break my heart, Lilya,” he murmured a moment before his mouth came down on hers.
    She wanted to reply, to protest that eventuality, but his mouth dropped to her breast and she became suddenly incapable of speech. His hot tongue skated over her nipple, making it hard, sending shocks of pleasure through her. All the nerves burst to life and she arched her back, moaning, while he sucked it into his mouth.
    Her fingers found his hair and tangled through it, mussing the thick tendrils, before she dropped her hands to his shoulders and slid them down his back. She loved the heat of his body, the smooth iron silk of his warm skin covering hard muscle. Touching his body was a sensual treat.
    Her hands smoothed downward, finding