Free Secrets and Sins: Chayot: A Secrets and Sins novel (Entangled Ignite) by Naima Simone

incite a hunger to straddle his hard thigh and soothe the hungry emptiness in her sex. “Do you want to be fucked?”
    She froze, slapped by the frank rawness of the question as well as image upon erotic image of being naked under him, over him. He would be gorgeous. All golden skin and lean muscle thrusting into her, pleasuring her. Yes. Yes , she wanted it. The slick skin sliding over skin, the dark groans, stroking hands, and gut-wrenching ecstasy.
    But the montage of pictures in her mind didn’t match up with the guttural tone he used. He made it sound fleeting, dirty…shameful. No . She didn’t want that.
    “Do you, Aslyn?” he demanded again. “Because I could fuck you. I could pick you up, carry you down the hallway to your bedroom, and lay you out on that bed. Or better yet, push you against the wall, strip off your pants, put my mouth on you. Taste you. Suck you. Make you come down my throat before working my cock into your pussy. I’d take you against that wall, Aslyn, thrusting so deep, riding you so hard, you’d scream my name as you came again. I can do that, baby.” He nipped her lip, soothed the sting with his tongue. “But it’s all you would get from me. It’s all I have to give.”
    “Chay,” she rasped, her will razed to the ground by the picture he’d drawn with his explicit description. Holy shit that was hot . Her chest rose and fell, her breath labored, heavy. Every nerve hummed, jumped, pulsated. She’d transformed into one giant ache. She circled the wrist of the hand that was still entwined around her hair.
    “No, Aslyn,” he interrupted, shaking his head. “You are not a fuck-’em-and-leave-’em woman. And I’m not a relationship man. You wouldn’t sleep with your boyfriend—your boyfriend —before ninety days, and we haven’t known each other for ninety hours. I don’t deserve someone as pure, as good as you. I’ve done some foul and selfish things in my life. But I won’t add using you to the list.”
    Gently, he released her and pushed her back several steps. He stood, and before she could stop him, he circled around her and headed for the kitchen entrance. She sorted past the surprise, the hurt of rejection, the heat of desire, and focused on his last words.
    “I won’t add using you to the list.”
    “Use me?” She whipped around, palming the edge of the island for support. “Use me for what?”
    Chay didn’t turn to face her, and for a moment, she believed he’d keep walking without responding to her question. But he glanced at her over his shoulder, and the cold, aloof shield had returned, locking his thoughts in and her out.
    “For forgetfulness. Oblivion.”
    She didn’t try to stop him again for another explanation. Instead, she remained silent as he strode across her living room and exited her house.
    Leaving her aroused. Rejected.
    And wondering.

    An hour later, Aslyn sat at the piano, her fingers hovering over the keys. Tension raced down her spine, drew her shoulders tight. Her stomach clenched. Wait. She sucked in a breath. What was that? A fluttering. Like a bird’s wing deep in her soul. Hazy, nebulous, but there. Sweat dampened her forehead, rolled down her back. She lowered her hands to the keyboard. And froze. Whatever had quickened in her chest—if there had been anything there in the first place—was gone. With quick, harsh breaths, she lowered the cover over the piano keys, concealing them from her sight. As if the action could also shut off the sense of loss and emptiness.
    Damn . She jammed her fists against her thighs. With another soft curse, she shoved the stool back and stalked from the room, the grief sharper somehow. Because the music had been there just beyond her reach. But still unobtainable.
    A half-hour later she exited the bathroom, a towel wrapped around her, tucking the ends between her breasts. Steam from her shower trailed after her into the bedroom. She shivered, the central air chilling her damp skin. But the air