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none of her three previous lovers had ever allowed her to control the pace of their lovemaking. For better or, most likely, worse, that would change tonight.
    "Be afraid,” he urged. “It isn't too late to stop.” Desire racked his body and cursed him for a fool in arguing against what she wanted, what he wanted.
    "Don't spoil it."
    She slid the ice across his chest, down the ridges of his abdomen. Sara was breathing a little faster now and her own heat flushed her face. “It melts so fast."
    "My body temperature is higher than yours.” Jack intended to speak calmly but the sensations of Sara's warm soft fingers mixed with those from the cold hard ice to create an experience he'd never felt before, never considered even possible. He ended his sentence in a gasp as she brought the ice to the line created by his pants and ran it across his lower abdomen.
    "You like it,” Sara breathed. “Why not admit it?” She felt empowered, he knew. Well, she should. Her wards held him as if he was the weakest imp.
    "Maybe,” he admitted.
    "Do you bite?"
    "Maybe,” he repeated.
    "Let's find out.” She brought her lips down, brushing against his own, then passing to blow lightly into his ear.
    A tremor wrenched his body as his instincts warred with his control. He could still command his body, but barely. Sara's actions, her pure appeal, endangered both of them. No one, human or demon, had ever aroused him so completely.
    "Stay calm.” She breathed the words into his ear. The combination of sound and touch sharpened his need.
    His erection swelled, aching to be free from the confining pants. He signaled his body to loose some of his pent-up heat to burn them off, leave him naked. No response except a brightening of the blue wards that held him to the bed. She'd warded against his magic as well.
    Sara looked at him disappointed. “You are straining against the wards. Do I have to tighten them?"
    "Don't toy with me,” he warned. “I won't always be tied to your bed."
    Sara laughed. “Maybe you're right. I'd better take advantage of the situation while I can."
    She ran her tongue down his neck. “Umm, you taste good."
    She smelled good. Only it was more than just a scent. She might be playing at wickedness now, but Sara was anything but evil. Jack inhaled her goodness, at war with himself between the pain it caused and its brief reminder of long-denied heaven.
    Sara cut off Jack's melancholy thoughts by kissing him.
    This kiss started with a brush of lips against lips, but she didn't move on as she had before. Instead, she deepened the touch, pressing harder against his lips, nibbling at them with her teeth.
    Without thought, he opened his mouth. Did he intend to speak, to protest, to bite? He wasn't even sure himself. Then it didn't matter. Sara seized her moment of advantage and plunged her tongue into his own mouth.
    His own tongue met hers, thrusting against it, then yielding again. She tasted of strawberries and nature and earth.
    A splash touched his face. He opened his eyes without knowing they had been shut and watched another tear fall from her eye and strike his cheek. “You kiss beautifully,” she told him.
    "Did I hurt you?"
    "I'm hurting myself."
    He couldn't argue with that. He was the tool in her self-destruction. Now, though, he'd passed his limits. He didn't want her to stop. Instead, he wanted, needed, this sexual union. He craved her even more painfully because he knew she could never give him more than a brief respite from the agony. Human women didn't give themselves to demons. They had to be tricked. But not Sara. Sara had shed tears for him. It was clearly impossible. “I'm sorry,” he said.
    "Oh don't be sappy.” She kissed him again, hard but without opening her mouth to let his tongue retrace its exploration.
    She pulled away, her amber eyes stared into his own, then traced the form of his body spread-eagled on her bed.
    "I'm wondering why you are still wearing your pants."
    Sara's hands trembled as