A growl rumbled in his chest and vibrated in her pussy.
Oh Lord, what was happening to her?
Should arousal be this strong, this hot? She felt flushed, overheated, oversensitive.
"If you don't get the hell away from me, I'm going to kiss you." He shook her just a little. "Listen to me, Rachel. You don't feel the heat; I do. You don't know what it does. Trust me." One hand lifted, touched her chin and raised her face until she was staring into his eyes. "Listen to me, baby: You'll regret it."
She shook her head. How could she regret it?
"Just a little kiss," she whispered.
His eyes closed briefly. "A little kiss." When he reopened them, the irises had lightened further, the color swirling, burning.
"I want you," she whispered. "You know I do. Surely there's some way . . ."
"I don't have the control," he snarled.
"The king of control?" She shook her head in bemusement. "What is it, Jonas? All or nothing? You can't let me at least have a glimpse of what I'm getting into without forcing me to accept it all the way?"
She watched his face. His jaw clenched and bunched as rage seemed to flicker in his gaze.
Slowly, so slowly, his head lowered, his gaze holding hers as she watched a battle she couldn't understand flickering in his eyes.
"I would never force you," he whispered.
His lips touched hers. So slowly.
Rachel felt herself shaking from the inside out as she tried to part her lips. She tried to take more of him, only to have him hold her closer. His lips were closed, heated, sending fiery sensations racing through her nervous system as desire began to rage through her.
His hands stroked down her arms, drew them to his shoulders before his hands gripped her hips and jerked her closer.
Her lips parted on a gasp.
Jonas's head lifted, his lips moving to her neck, his teeth raking the sensitive flesh. The feel of his hardened cock pressed tight and hard against her as the position forced her legs to part.
Thin dress pants were no protection against the hardened length of his erection beneath his own slacks.
His cock was hot, hard. So thick and heavy against the overheated, swollen mound of her sex. Rachel couldn't help but try to lift herself closer, to grind her clit against the heated proof of the heavy shaft as the need for release suddenly overwhelmed her.
Jonas's large palm cupped the back of her head as it fell back. His lips stroked along her neck; his teeth raked, nipped. The feel of his incisors, wicked sharp, sent fiery pleasure tearing through her before it struck her womb, clenching it with ecstasy.
"Jonas." Weakness assailed her, yet adrenaline coursed through her. She needed more. She ached for more.
Just as quickly as he pulled her to him, she found herself free. Stumbling against the desk, she stared back at him in shock as he snarled.
"What . . . ?"
"I have work to do." He turned, stalked back to his office and slammed the door. A second later, the lock clicked, informing her with more than words that he wanted nothing more to do with her.
"Jonas." She whispered his name, her hand lifting to her neck and the stinging sensation she could still feel.
Touching dampness, she pulled back and stared at her fingers with wide eyes.
Blood.
"You're playing a very dangerous game, little girl."
Rachel turned quickly, off balance, shocked as she stared back at Dr. Ely Morrey.
Dressed in a heavy sweater, jeans and boots, she didn't look like the genius in Breed genetics that Rachel knew she was.
"How . . ." She blinked, swallowed tightly. "I didn't hear you come in."
Evidently, Jonas hadn't heard either.
"Come with me." She jerked her head beyond the door before stepping into the harsh chill of the mountain air.
Rachel followed, not quite certain why. Closing the door behind her, Ely glared back at Rachel, her brown eyes enraged.
"I heard more than I probably should have," Ely expressed in a precise, icy tone Rachel had never heard from her before. Anger glittered in her brown eyes, an anger Rachel didn't understand. "You ask that man for the impossible."
Rachel shook her head. "What do you mean, the impossible?"
"To ask him to touch you, to kiss you without sharing the mating hormone, without making you his, is like asking the sun to not rise in the morning or set in the evening. You're asking him to destroy himself."
Rachel shook her head. "You said the hormone had to be shared to produce such reactions. That it was okay . . ."
"For you," Ely snapped. "You walk around him daily, sleep in his cabin, share his day and you don't suffer. Because he respects your desire to wait. Because he will not force this on you, no matter the pain he feels. You do this to him, and you don't even care about the effect on him."
Ely's face flushed with her anger.
"Ely, we haven't shared the mating hormone." Panic was beginning to set in, a fearful realization struggling to reveal itself inside her mind. Her heart.
"You haven't shared it with him," Ely snarled back at her. "You haven't tasted what drives him insane with need and pain because he can't have what nature is demanding he take, no matter how it must be taken. You don't suffer into the night, so aroused that it feels your flesh is peeling from your bones. You don't breathe and smell nothing but the scent of hunger and need that clings to the one who desires you, yet refuses you. You, Ms. Broen, aren't tortured with an agony that even the labs couldn't compare because there is no relief, there is no release."
"He has a hand," she shot back, furious. "Don't tell me he can't find relief. What am I asking for? A chance to love him rather than be tied to him without the benefit of a choice?"
"A hand?" Ely's tone was clipped, frosty with disgust. "In this, my dear, he has no 'hand,' as you so eloquently phrase it. No amount of masturbation will help; it will only make the agony greater. Each time he touches you, breathes in the scent of your desire, touches your flesh. Each time, the hunger is a thousand times worse than starvation. It's like having a limb ripped from his body. What you just did to him is greater disservice than those Council scientists could have ever done to him."
"All I wanted was a kiss," she whispered, horrified at what Ely was telling her. "I would never deliberately hurt him."
Ely glared back, refusing to soften. "You are to him something greater than even your child is to you. If you don't know now that you love him or that you could love him, then the best gift you could give him is to leave, completely. That, or stop being such a child and accept the gift he would give you." Censure glittered in her eyes. "If you're woman enough. Which at this point, I very much doubt you are."
CHAPTER 11
Rachel couldn't imagine the pain Ely had described to her. She couldn't imagine anyone enduring such pain, even Jonas. The man accused of being stone-cold ice inside.
After she returned to her desk, Jonas walked from his office, staring back at her, his expression perfectly calm and perfectly composed.
"I apologize for biting you so hard," he stated, his tone no longer tortured. "It was an accident, Rachel. One that won't be repeated."
She watched him now, trying to see beyond the calm expression to the torment Ely swore was a part of the mating heat.
She should have questioned him more, she thought. She should have taken the time, no matter the danger at first, and the business of their routine in the past week, to learn more about what she was refusing.
"Do you love me, Jonas?" The question slipped past her lips, almost unbidden.
She had always dreamed of love, not mating heat. Commitment. Loyalty. Faithfulness.