A wave of heat heralded a storm of fire, through him, through her. Savannah’s hands, of their own accord, pushed his shirt from his wide shoulders. She watched with enormous eyes as he slowly shrugged out of it, his silver gaze holding her blue one captive. She was drowning in those pale, mesmerizing eyes. Eyes filled with such intensity, with so much hunger for one woman. Her. Only her.
Afraid of what she was committing herself to, Savannah tentatively, cautiously, touched his mind with hers. She found a hunger so deep, so wild, so urgent, she was instantly lost. How could she deny his fierce need? Even though Gregori knew he was a man without tenderness, that his every instinct was wild and uninhibited, his intent was to be gentle with her, to ensure her pleasure. His every thought was for her, to please her, to worship her body with his.
“I know you are afraid, mon amour,” he whispered softly, his hands sliding up her rib cage to her breasts. “But I am no longer a beast. You leashed the demon. There is only me, a man who very much wants to make love to his lifemate.” She felt his breath against her nipple. “Let me show you how it is supposed to be. Beautiful. Such pleasure. I can bring you so much pleasure, ma petite.” His mouth closed over her breast, hot and moist. The sound of his voice was mesmerizing, enticing. She could get caught up forever in the mere sound of it. There was no thought in his mind for his own burning body, his own urgent demands; he wanted to show her the beauty and pleasure of true mating.
Flames raced through her blood and licked down her skin at the intensity of the eroticism, the craving his mouth at her breast created. She moaned, low and soft, the note brushing at his soul like the flutter of butterfly wings. Her hands slid over his back, tracing each defined muscle with her fingertips, committing him to memory. Tears filled her eyes. How could a man be so sensual, so perfect? He was stealing her will as easily as he was stealing her body.
“Want me, Savannah,” he whispered softly. “Want me the way I want you.” His tongue rasped over her skin, traced the underside of her breast, followed each rib even as his hands explored her hips and thighs. His fingers found their goal, the heated, moist entrance, hot and ready, waiting for his body to merge with hers.
She arched into his palm, her body demanding relief. “I feel like I’m burning up, Gregori!” she gasped, shocked at the intensity of her hunger for him. She needed him.
“I am the one burning up, going up in flames.” His fingers pushed deeper, ensuring her readiness, taking pleasure in her reaction. Her hands on his bare skin were driving him wild, but most of all, it was the trust she was giving to him that moved him so deeply.
Gregori could not conceive of such trust from a woman so brutally used, and it humbled him, the way she was so forgiving. She might never be able to love a monster such as he, but with her understanding, her compassion, she was determined to make something of the imposed sentence of their life together.
The clothes confining his body were tight and painful, so he removed them with a mere thought. He heard her gasp as the hot length of him pressed aggressively against her thigh. She had thought herself safe as long as his clothes were on. She had thought she would have the time to make up her mind, to choose for herself, but her body was making the choice for her. And he was losing himself in the molten heat of her, in her shadowed, secret places.
Savannah’s body suddenly went rigid. She caught his face in her hands, exerting pressure so that he had to lift his head from his delicious explorations, his silver eyes molten as they touched on her face. She took a deep breath. “What if I can’t do this, Gregori?” She sounded close to tears. “What if I can never do this?”