It had been so long for Clayton that he couldn’t wait. He couldn’t take time to explore my body or whisper into my ear or see what I’d taste like. He couldn’t let me take time to touch him or kiss him or do everything he’d been deprived of since he’d returned from the grave.

Not the first time.

The first time, he yanked my jeans to my knees, shoved me onto to my side and lay behind me, pumping into me so hard I thought I might break. His hunger was as extreme as a starving vampire’s need for blood. He plunged into me, filling me up, holding onto me with a bruising grip, groaning as he climaxed.

He came so hard and violently I felt him release inside me. All he wanted, at that moment, was that release.

But the second time…

He lay on his back, his heart thundering beneath my ear as I rested my cheek on his chest. He was covered with a thin sheen of sweat, and he stared at the ceiling, his limbs loose and heavy as he swam through the aftereffects of his release.

“Trinity,” he whispered, finally, hoarsely.

I kissed his chest, my hand on his ribs, unable not to touch him. “Do you have more?” Desire screamed through me, wrapped around me, battered me.

He sat up, his energy climbing with his lust, and kicked off his shoes. He didn’t take his stare off me as he undressed, and with each new part of his body he revealed, I became a little more impatient. A little hotter.

I fell deeper into Clayton.

When his clothes lay on the floor, he reached for me. He buried his fingers in my hair and shuddered, his forehead against mine, then he tilted his head and took my lips with his.

It had been forever since he’d had the freedom to kiss a woman, or make love to a woman, or even touch a woman, but he wasn’t hesitant. He might have forgotten what it was like, but he hadn’t forgotten how to do it.

His kiss went from warm and deep and languid to intense and almost frantic, and with that kiss, the heat between us began to grow into overwhelming need. He slid his tongue into my mouth and tasted me before he drew back to look at me.

He took a deep breath and blew it out slowly, struggling to control himself.

His stare was no longer blank. It was filled with a man’s heat. It was full of wonder and appreciation, darkness and mystery, love, even, but behind all that was the fear and the knowledge that it wouldn’t last. That his freedom wasn’t real. I could see it as clearly as I could see his hunger.

I wanted to make him forget everything but his desire. I wanted him to have nothing in those eyes but that moment, that moment in my arms.

And I was wearing too many clothes. When I reached for my shirt he stopped me.

“I’ll do that.” He stood, lifting me with him, and paused to kiss the corner of my lips, to gently bite the edge of my chin, and to brush his lips over my throat before he began to undress me.

I released a shuddery breath and forced myself to stay still as he dropped my shirt to the floor and stared down at me. He slid a thumb over the scars on my chest, then cupped my breast, his hot, rough palms scraping the nipple with an almost agonizing gentleness.

Chills shook my body and goosebumps arose on my skin. I was both hot and cold. I grew heavy and wet between my thighs even as my mouth became dry, and my chest tightened as my legs grew weak and shaky.

And he was just getting started.

An image of Angus floated into my mind, not the image of him injured and in a jail cell, but the image of him shoving his huge hardness against me, followed immediately by the memory of Shane thrusting into me, of Miriam caressing my arm, and then of Amias holding my legs open as he shoved his mouth against my wetness, sucking and licking with an intensity that was so vivid I cried out.

We were all linked, at that moment. We were all there.

The demon inside Clayton was no longer powerful enough to suck the life force from me or take me to a place of despair, but he was a sex demon, and he was strong enough to force-feed me images and memories that filled me with overwhelming lust.

Clayton fed that lust with his torturous care and slowness and lips and tongue and fingers and need, and when I finally stood naked and trembling before him, I was consumed by him. There was nothing else.

I put my hands on his shoulders for balance as he urged my legs apart and slid his fingers between them. He closed his eyes as he probed, sliding his fingers through the wetness, rubbing the softly swelling flesh, then slipping a finger inside me.

“Oh, God,” I cried, and he opened his eyes to watch me, something dark and fierce and proud in his hot stare.

“I missed the feel of a woman,” he murmured. “I missed the scent. The taste.”

He shuddered and closed his eyes for a second, then withdrew his fingers and leaned his forehead against mine. “The demon doesn’t want to go slowly. He doesn’t want do anything but fuck you.”

I tightened my grip on his arms. “Then we will take our time. And the demon can go fuck himself.”

That surprised a hoarse laugh from him and unable to resist, I pressed my lips against his smiling ones, then whispered his name into the warmth of his mouth.

Then I stepped back, and when he reached for me, I shook my head. “Let me look at you.”

He dropped his hands to his sides and stood still for me, but his body vibrated with hunger and need and impatience.

He stared over my head, and when I got a chance to look at his body, really look at it, first, I wanted to cry, and then, I wanted only to make him forget. Like that would have been possible.

I’d known he’d been tortured. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I’d known Miriam had hurt him. But his body…

His body.

“It wasn’t all Miriam.” He spoke gently into my devastated silence. “I lived a rough life. And it no longer matters. Only this matters.” He took my hand to his cock, folded my fingers around it, and squeezed. “Have your feels, Trinity, but hurry. Because I want to be inside you.”

I looked away from his scars, scars that were on top of scars, and I nodded. His pain was from the past, and he no longer lived in the past. There was only this moment, and…

“You’re perfect,” I told him, hoping my eyes were as clear and sincere as my heart.

Because he was.

His body was lean and smooth, but for the scars, and scars didn’t make a person imperfect. They only told a story.

“I wish I’d known you,” I said fiercely. “I wish you’d been mine.”

Because I would have saved him.

I wanted to cry for him.

His hot stare nearly set my hair on fire. He grabbed my shoulders and pulled me to him. “Stop it. I’m not a broken man. I’m just a man. I need something more than your pity and your horror.”

“Then take it, Clayton. Take what you need.”

He groaned, then yanked me against his body, and his grip was tight as he carried me to the sofa. He dropped me to it and followed me down, his passion feeding mine.

I caught glimpses of the demon in his eyes, and I felt his influence in Clayton’s touches. I heard him in Clayton’s moans, and I knew Clayton wasn’t the only one enjoying his freedom. The demon was no longer sick—at least not physically.

And the demon liked sex.

A lot.

I lay naked and sprawled on the couch before both of them, and both of them slid their fingers into me and rubbed me and kissed me and ran their tongues over my breasts.

But eventually, there was only Clayton. He was the only one I cared about, the only one I saw. Let the demon have his fun. As long as he couldn’t mess with my mind, I really didn’t care what he saw or what he did.

To me, there was only Clayton.

And when I climbed on top of Clayton and took him into my mouth, I wasn’t sucking the demon.

Clayton lost control and grew rough and hard and almost mindless in his hunger, and that was okay. My passion was a match for his. My need was as big. My lust was as strong.

Over and over and over, until finally, our bodies could do no more. In the end, we found ourselves on the floor, and we lay spent and replete and sticky and hot, and he kept his arms wrapped around me as though he would never let me go.

But Angus was dying.

Clayton’s arms tightened as he felt me stiffen and knew what was coming, knew our time was at an end, and he rose up over me to give me one last, long, tender kiss.

When he pulled away and stared down at me, regretful but resigned, I saw something in his eyes that made me cry out in terror. I saw the absence of something.

The demon was gone.