Passion Untamed (Feral Warriors #3)(41)

With his free hand, he reached for her face, glad she didn't turn away. As he slid his fingers along the silken line of her jaw, awareness rippled through the air between them. "But I won't hurt you, Skye."

To his surprise, she lifted her hand, her soft palm mirroring his, sliding along the edge of his jaw. Her eyes softened and glistened, tightening the band of tenderness around his heart.

"No matter what happens," she said softly, her fingers lifting to stroke his cheek, making him ache with the need to take her into his arms. "No matter what you ultimately have to do with me, I want you to know you're the finest man I've ever met."

He wanted to object. The only thing he intended to ultimately do with her was protect her. But he couldn't make that promise. Not when there were still so many unknowns about her role in all this.

Besides, her words made his conscience rebel. "How can you think that when I've hurt you?" Not only had he torn a chunk from her arm, but he'd scared them both by what he'd almost done to her in the prison.

"You never hurt me without reason. Never for the fun of it." Her fingers slid into his hair, sliding through the locks, making him want to purr. "Even when you scared me, even when I thought you were going to hurt me downstairs, I understood why. What I did to you, capturing you, was reprehensible."

"You didn't have a choice."

She looked away, even as her fingers dug more deeply into his hair as if she needed to anchor herself. Her eyes, when they looked up again, were deep wells of regret. "I did have a choice, though. I almost told you to run that day, the day I led you into the woods. I was terrified of what would happen to you if I captured you. Birik had assured me I'd be able to keep my Feral, that he didn't mean to kill you, but I knew he'd do whatever he wanted. His word means nothing. But I also knew that if I let you go, Birik would only capture another Feral for me."

Her gentle thumb stroked his cheek. Her fingers moved, their tips trailing across his mouth, sending tendrils of lush excitement heating his blood. Her gaze flicked back to his, her eyes luminous, reflecting the heat he felt in his own.

"I didn't want another Feral, Paenther. I wanted you. It was selfishness that made me lead you into the woods that day. I wanted you inside me. And I wanted to keep you."

Her admission probably should have angered him, but all it did was inflame him more. Because the truth was, from the moment he first laid eyes on her, he'd wanted her, too. His hands slid into her soft hair and he pulled her to him and kissed her, a tender kiss meant to cherish instead of dominate. A kiss he wanted to share instead of take.

His lips moved over hers slowly, sensuously, as he savored the heady brush of flesh against sensitive flesh. When her tongue darted out, he nipped it lightly then stroked it with his own, pulling it into his mouth. Passion erupted, stealing his breath. He needed her beneath him, her legs spread. And it would be so easy. So easy because he knew exactly what she wore under that shirt of his. Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

With a few deft strokes of his fingers he could make her want him as badly as he wanted her. She was his prisoner, now. He held all the power.

And for that reason, he held back. He wouldn't take advantage of her. Not when so many already had.

But, goddess, he wanted. His mouth opened fully over hers, his tongue sweeping inside her mouth, drinking the taste of raindrops. Her soft hands slid around his neck and into his hair as she kissed him back, her tongue quick and strong, parrying every thrust.

His breath became ragged, lifting in time with hers until they both sounded like they'd been running hard and fast. He thought he'd happily drown in the taste of her, in the scent of violets.

Her hand slipped down to his bare chest, her touch almost rough as it grazed his nipple, then lifted to his shoulder and down his arm, caressing his skin, molding the muscle beneath her hand.

Over and over, he told himself this was just a kiss. Just a kiss. But the heat built, second by second. If there had been power orbs in the room, they'd have been spitting with light. What was it about her that sent his passion spiraling into orbit and had him flaming like the sun?

His hand moved down to slide over one small, perfect breast. Her nipple pebbled, pressing against his palm through the silk of the shirt. His body surged, hard and throbbing with need. Take it slow. But he had to touch her. He had to feel that flesh beneath his palm.

Knowing better than to reach under her shirt if he wanted to retain any scrap of sanity at all, he unbuttoned her from the top instead, two buttons, then three, until his hand slipped freely inside. As his palm cupped that perfect mound, he gripped the back of her head with his other hand and kissed her hard, desperately, inhaling her. Needing her.

The feel of her hand on his shaft jerked him out of his insanity even as it threatened to send him over the edge for good.

With a strength born of all he'd watched her suffer, he forced himself to let go of her and take gentle hold of her wrists, pulling her hands to his mouth.

She looked at him, her eyes searching his, heat and uncertainty swirling in their depths as he kissed her palms, one after the other.

"You don't want me touching you there?" she asked, no feigned innocence in her eyes. Her uncertainty was all too real.

"I'm not going to take advantage of you."

Her delicate brows drew together. "How does my touching you mean you're taking advantage?"