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This shouldn’t be possible. It shouldn’t be so sensual, so erotic that she wanted nothing more than to be stripped bare before him and feel him stroking over every inch of her flesh.
“I don’t know how to handle this.” She arched, shuddered in his arms. “I don’t know how to think, Del-Rey.”
“Don’t think, sweetheart,” he groaned against the mark he had left on her, before kissing it gently. “Just feel. Feel me. This is all you need to do. I’ll take care of everything else.”
She had to trust him, because she couldn’t control this. She didn’t want to fight it, not anymore. She didn’t want the hormone treatments blocking so much as a single sensation or a second of the need. She wanted it all. He had accepted it all, suffered for it, given her the freedom and the time she had needed to realize what she wanted, what she ached for. She could do nothing but let her senses fly
and give herself into the keeping of the man she had chosen years before as her own.
She arched into the thrust of his fingers, her cries shattering the space around her as she fought not to beg for him to take her now, at this second.
They couldn’t be far from Base. He would have to stop. It couldn’t last much longer.
“God, you make me lose my head.” He breathed out roughly, his head lifted despite her protests, his gaze narrowed on the window. “Come, sweet.” His hand slid slowly from her saturated flesh.
“Not yet,” she whimpered. “Don’t stop yet.”
“Just for a bit.” His lips lowered to hers, brushed against them, and he was kissing her again, slowly, deeply. His tongue pushed against hers, encouraging her to suckle at it as he fixed her pants, her sweater.
He pulled her hands from his flesh, holding them above her head with one of his as the other smoothed down her side, gripped her hip.
When he lifted his head, she forced her eyes to open, to stare back at him.
“When you need me, come to me, Anya. No matter where I am, no matter what I’m doing. Suffer in silence again, and I’ll make certain you understand clearly that it will not be permitted.”
Her lips parted in surprise at the dominant, dominating tone of his voice.
“Getting awful bossy, aren’t you, Coyote man?” She had to curl her fingers against the seat to keep from dragging him to her once again.
“I’m weak where you’re concerned, Mate,” he told her gently, but the tone didn’t disguise the pure power beneath it. “But don’t tempt me in matters of your safety or where your well-being is concerned. Be stubborn, I can deal with that. Take charge in the areas that are your own, that I can handle. Argue with me when you need to, yell at me if you must. But don’t endanger yourself or allow something I can fix to harm you. That I won’t tolerate.”
“Is there a rule book?” She snorted as he helped her sit up. “Or do I get to just stumble around on my own and mess up whenever?”
“Mess up whenever.” He grinned. “I’ll greatly enjoy showing you the error of your ways.”
Charm, seductive humor. She loved his smile. The sheer wicked devilry in it, the warmth she had always glimpsed now flaring into heat.
“We’re here,” he told her as the limo pulled into the front of the caverns.
“We’re going to clash soon,” she warned him. “Very soon.”
A frown tugged at his brow, though he nodded somberly.
“Yes, I know this, Coya. But know, even when we clash, you’re my coya. And I’ll ensure, even if it chances your wrath, that you’re always safe. Now come.” He gripped her hand as the limo door opened. “Let’s go find our room. I have a need for your touch and your taste. And I’ll wait no longer to ease that need.”
CHAPTER 17
He didn’t wait. Anya was rushed into the base, Del-Rey’s arm still wrapped around her, and pulled through the tunnels until they were locked into their room.
She found herself against the wall within seconds, his lips on hers, his tongue pushing into her mouth again. The hormonal release from the glands beneath his tongue seemed spicier, more addictive than ever before.
She sucked at the taste, licked against his tongue and heard his rumbled growl as she tore at the buttons of his shirt and pushed the material from his broad shoulders.
“I love your body,” she panted as his lips tore from hers and he shrugged the shirt free. “So hard and muscular.” She ran her hands over his shoulders and wanted to whimper at the heat beneath his flesh. “And so warm. Always so warm. I need your heat, Del-Rey.”
She needed him. How had she managed to stay away from him all those months? Denying herself the ultimate pleasure of just touching him, watching him move, or hearing his dark, rough voice.
“It’s yours.” His hands pushed beneath her sweater, lifting the material until he revealed the delicate lace of her bra.
