Page 65 of Reaper's Desire

"Does it matter?"

"Not to me." His fingers brush against mine. "I'm just glad you ended up here tonight."

The touch sends a small spark through me, but it's nothing like what I feel when Julian touches me. Nothing like the electricity that arcs between us, the way my entire body comes alive under his hands. But that's the point, isn't it? Julian doesn't want me. He's made that abundantly clear. Tomáš does.

"Dance with me," he says, wrapping his hand around mine and tugging me off of the barstool. He flashes me another of those devastating smiles, and I let him pull me onto the dance floor, into the crush of bodies moving to the heavy electronic beat. His hands find my hips immediately, pulling me close, andI don't stop him. I let our bodies press together, let his mouth brush against my ear as he says something I can't quite hear over the music.

This is what I came here for. To feel wanted. To prove that Julian's rejection doesn't matter, that I can find someone else, that I don't need him. But even as Tomáš's hands slide lower on my hips, even as he pulls me tighter against him, all I can think about is Julian. The way he looked at me on that balcony. The way his hands felt on my body. The way he kissed me like he was drowning and I was air.

A moment of weakness.

The memory stings, cutting through the alcohol haze. I press closer to Tomáš, trying to lose myself in the moment and feel something other than the ache of Julian's rejection.

"You're tense," Tomáš murmurs against my ear, his hands moving up my sides. "Relax. I've got you."

But I don't want him to have me. I want?—

Stop.I force the thought away and focus on the man in front of me, on his hands and his body and the way he's looking at me like I'm something he wants to devour. This is what I need. This is what will make the hurt stop.

"Let's get out of here," Tomáš says, his mouth brushing against my neck. "My hotel is close. We could have a drink somewhere quieter. Somewhere we can actually talk."

We both know he's not interested in talking. But this is what I came here for. This is what I want. I want to remind myself that Julian isn't everything. That it doesn't matter what he thinks or wants or says. If I'm nothing to him, he can be nothing to me, too.

"Okay," I hear myself say. "Let's go."

Tomáš's hotel room looks fairly cheap and impersonal, just standard furniture and a queen bed with white linens that look like they've been bleached a thousand times. It could be anyhotel room in any city in the world. There's nothing distinctive about it, nothing memorable. But it's clean, and it's perfect for what this is. Meaningless sex.

Tomáš closes the door behind us and immediately pulls me against him, his mouth finding mine without any pretense of the drink he offered or the talking he mentioned before. He kisses aggressively, his tongue pushing confidently past my lips, and his hands already working at the hem of my shirt. I kiss him back, trying to lose myself in the sensation.

His hands slide under my shirt, warm against my skin, and he walks me backward toward the bed. I let him guide me, let him push the shirt up and over my head, then let him unhook my bra. "You're so fucking beautiful," he murmurs against my neck, his hands cupping my breasts. "I've been thinking about this since I saw you at the bar."

I close my eyes and try to focus on his touch, on the way his thumbs brush over my nipples, on the heat of his mouth against my skin. He's not pawing at me; he's good at this. His mouth feels firm and hot against my skin, his hands curving against me as he seeks out the places that will make me moan, taking his time. But all I can think about is Julian. The way he touched me in Ibiza. The way he made me feel like I was the only thing that mattered in the entire world.

Stop thinking about him.

Tomáš pushes me down onto the bed and follows me, his body covering mine as his hands work at the button of my jeans. "Fuck, I can't wait to taste you," he mutters, and I help him, lifting my hips so he can slide them down my legs. He rises up on his knees as I'm lying there in just my underwear while he strips off his own shirt.

He's attractive. Fit. Exactly the kind of man I would have taken home without a second thought a month ago. His abs are cobblestone hard, with tattoos inked around his sides and up hischest and arms, the rest of his muscles equally defined. I can see the thick bulge against his fly—he's hung, too, and incredibly hard for me.

But I feel nothing. Just emptiness where desire should be, the hollow ache of trying to replace something irreplaceable.

"You okay?" Tomáš asks, pausing with his hands on his belt. "You seem distracted."

"I'm fine," I lie. "Just—keep going."

He doesn't need to be told twice. His belt hits the floor, followed by his jeans, and then his mouth finds mine again. His cock is on the verge of escaping his black boxer briefs, a clear, thick line against the fabric. His hands slide down my sides, hooking into the waistband of my underwear, and I close my eyes and try to surrender to this. I want it to be good. I want him to make me come, to make me stop thinking that it will never be good again because of what Julian has made me feel.

Tomáš's mouth glides over my breast as he tosses my panties to the floor, and the door explodes inward.

I scream, jerking upright, my heart slamming against my ribs. Tomáš rolls off me with a startled curse, reaching for something, but he doesn't get the chance.

Julian is across the room in three strides, his gaze black with fury. He grabs Tomáš by the throat and slams him against the wall hard enough that I hear the impact. I hear the breath leave Tomáš's lungs in a pained gasp.

"Julian, stop!" I scramble off the bed. "What the fuck are you?—"

Julian doesn't even look at me. His focus is entirely on Tomáš, whose face is turning red as Julian's grip tightens around his throat. There's something in Julian's eyes I've never seen before, not even when he attacked the man in Greece.

"Please," Tomáš chokes out, his hands clawing at Julian's wrist. "I don't—I didn't?—"