“You’re always in such perfect control. I can’t imagine you not in complete control. But then you look at me, and…” She closed her eyes as his mouth wandered lower, pushing aside the thin material of her top so he could touch more skin.
“You were saying?” he murmured against the inviting swell of her breast. “I look at you?” His teeth scraped gently, erotically over her sensitive skin, and she heard herself gasp even as her arms cradled his head to her.
What had she been saying? He was still in control. Even now, while she lay in his arms and could feel his body burning for hers, hungry for hers, he was in complete control. She turned more fully into his arms, her body pressing closer to the enormous strength of his. What would it feel like to belong? Really belong to someone? Not to be afraid all the time? When she was with Lucian, she was never afraid.
Lucian felt her body, soft and pliant, molding itself to his. He pushed the offending cloth farther from her skin, exposing her small, perfectly molded breasts to the cool air. To his dark, possessive gaze. To the heat of his mouth. She really was a miracle, everything about her. Her body moved restlessly, and he shifted his weight to pin her more fully beneath him, needing to feel every inch of her imprinted against his skin. He lowered his mouth and tasted her breast, his tongue swirling lazily, teasing her nipple into a hard peak.
He could hear the ebb and flow of her blood rushing through her veins, calling to him, beckoning with a sweet invitation. He murmured her name softly, stroked her skin, tracing each separate rib, finding the indentation of her small waist. In his ears was a dull roar, and the beast within him lifted its head and roared for release. Roared to claim what belonged to it.
Jaxon sensed the change in him. It was in the hard possession of his hands, the sudden aggression of his body. For the first time she was afraid. She caught his thick black hair in her fists and made a small sound somewhere between submission and protest. “Lucian.” She whispered his name like a talisman, knowing he would always protect her.
At once he raised his head. Her breath caught in her throat. Behind the depths of his eyes crouched a primitive animal; she could see it, the red flames in its eyes, the heat and hunger gathering into a fierce conflagration. Her heart thudded wildly. “Lucian.” She tightened her grip in his hair, two large handfuls, holding on for her life.
“It is all right, angel,” he said tenderly. He kissed her throat gently, lingering over her wildly beating pulse. “I could never hurt you. You are my life, the air I breathe. I may sometimes act more animal than man, but I am truly a man after all.”
“But not human.” Jaxon’s voice was a mere thread of sound.
“Not human,” he agreed. “A Carpathian male, very much needing his lifemate at this moment.”
Jaxon was suddenly acutely conscious of her disheveled clothes. “I think it would be best if you removed yourself from my bedroom.”
“Best for whom?” Amusement tinged his voice. “Not me.” Very gently he arranged her black top to cover her creamy skin. “Do you have any idea how much you mean to me?” He shook his head. “It is not possible that you could know.”
She was afraid to breathe. Her entire body was crying out for his, completely betraying her saner self. “Lucian, I really need to be alone for a while.”
“So you can deny that you want me?”
“Absolutely,” she agreed readily. There was no reason to deny it. He was lucky she wasn’t experienced. She might just be ripping his clothes off. The idea took her breath away.
He arched an expressive eyebrow at her. “It takes my breath away, too,” he murmured against her throat, proving he was a shadow firmly entrenched in her mind.
She wanted to be annoyed with him. He had no right to listen to her every thought. But she found herself laughing. It just seemed so intimate, lying on the bed with his arm curved around her waist, his black eyes moving over her with such stark hunger in them. “You’re so bad, Lucian.”