“Isabelle,” he murmured, his lips giving butterfly kisses to her skin as he spoke. “Forgive me. I don’t want to lose you, and I never want to hurt you. You’re becoming very important to me.”

As he was to her.

Every moment brought that truth more firmly to bear within her heart and mind. Thomas was a man to stay for. At this point all of that was lovely, but moot, wasn’t it? How could she admit her feelings for Thomas now, when the demon had designs on her body and soul?

The time for that was long past, gone with a visit from a demon in the silent dead of night.

“Stop thinking,” Thomas growled and then sank his teeth into her shoulder just hard enough to get her attention.

She gasped in surprise and intense pleasure at the possessive bite. Her fingers fisted against the wall in front of her and her body reacted, her sex becoming slick and warm.

Still biting her shoulder, he slid his knee between her thighs and forced her to spread them. Then he shoved his cock against her opening and thrust the head slowly within. His hands found her breasts and cupped them as he eased himself deep inside her inch by delicious inch.

Isabelle’s breath came in short, hard pants as her body stretched to accommodate him. The pleasure of having him inside suffused her. Then he began to thrust and the pleasure became sharper. He teased her nipples, pinching and rolling them between the pads of his fingers as his cock tunneled in and out of her sex.

Just the thought of how they must look excited her to the point of orgasm—her pressed face-first against the wall, Thomas’s hard, fine body working behind her, his buttocks flexing as he thrust deep within her and his big hands possessively controlling her breasts.

The first skitterings of climax rose along her spine and nerve endings. Thomas sensed it rising, slipped his hand down her abdomen and between her thighs to stroke her clit. Her orgasm exploded, heady and overwhelming. Her back arched as it washed through her, making her sex pulse around his thrusting cock.

While the last remnants of ecstasy still clung to her, Thomas turned her to face him. Her expression was lusty and satisfied, she knew—parted lips, eyelids at half mast. She wanted more of him. Thomas’s expression was serious, almost severe.

He cupped her cheek and stared into her eyes. “Isabelle.” It was just one word, but there seemed to be a world of emotion in it.

She covered his hand with her own and fought to divest herself of her initial desire to reject that emotion, to run away. You care about him, too. Let it be.

At least for now, she could let it be.