"Jonas." She whispered his name, the need building inside her now, tearing through her and laying waste to any thought she may have been harboring about thinking this step through any longer.
Lifting her hands, she pressed her fingers to his hard, heated abdomen, feeling it flex beneath her fingers as her own stomach clenched in hunger. She loved how readily he responded to her touch. There were no games with it. She gave him pleasure just as well as he gave her.
"Come to bed with me, Rachel," he breathed against her ear. "I promise, there will be no heat tonight. You have all the time you need to become accustomed the idea of it. To decide if the loss of control is worth it."
She lifted her head, staring back at him, wondering at the incredible gentleness in his voice.
"It hurts you," she whispered.
"Like it would hurt any other man not to have you." He cupped her cheek, his thumb running over her lips. "You are an addiction to me, love. But it's not as though I'm going into withdrawal quite yet."
He looked amused, patient. He didn't look like a man in the throes of agony.
"Ely thinks . . ."
"Ely is sometimes a bit overprotective when it comes to mated Breeds, and a whole lot too nosy about the biology of the phenomena," he stated as his hand stroked down her arm, his fingers finding hers as he moved back to draw her to his bedroom. "Don't worry about what Ely says, Rachel. Worry about what you need."
He was lying to her. She could see the lie in his eyes, in the fine film of perspiration glistening along his forehead. He was in pain, and the knowledge of how he held back, to give her the time she needed, had her wondering if holding back was truly what she wanted to do.
He needed to kiss her. The glands beneath his tongue, as Merinus had explained it, could become agonizingly sensitive unless the hormone was shared.
He was protecting her.
She let him draw her to the bedroom as butterflies beat against her stomach and her lungs tightened with nerves.
She had fantasized for so long. So many nights she had imagined what it would be like if he ever touched her. And his touch was more than she had ever imagined.
As he drew her into the bedroom, Rachel stared up at him, seeing in his eyes the incredible control he was exerting on himself now.
Liquid mercury eyes raged with hunger, with need. His expression was tight, savagely hewn. And sexy. The powerful, primal features of his face, the corded strength of his body, were so damned sexy she could barely stand to look at him without needing his touch.
Without needing to touch him.
Reaching to his bare shoulders, Rachel let the tips of her fingers skim across the powerful muscles, feeling the tension in them, as well as the tightly leashed control.
"You are such a liar," she whispered. "Merinus told me all about mating heat, Jonas. And what she didn't tell me, I've guessed or Ely was kind enough to spit out information on."
"Merinus has a big mouth." He grimaced as she let her nails scratch across his flesh.
"Merinus tells me the truth," she stated as he stared down with those oddly colored eyes.
"No. Merinus lies." He jerked as her nails raked lower, glancing over the tight, hard discs of his male nipples.
She wondered how long she could play with him? How far could she push him? Would his control actually break? She had never heard of anyone, man or woman, shattering his much-lauded control.
"I think you like lying." Leaning forward, her lips touched his chest, her tongue reaching out to lick over one of the tight, hard male nipples, tasting it, and then wanting more.
His hand jerked up, tangled in her hair and held her still for long, tense moments before she felt it ease marginally.
"I don't lie," he breathed out, his jaw bunching as she stared up at him before raking across his nipple with her teeth.
"Enough." A groan tore from his lips as his fingers knotted in her hair once again. "Don't tempt me, Rachel. If you think you know fear of the mating heat now, then you will surely understand what true fear of it is if you keep pushing like this."
"Like what?" she breathed out roughly as she kissed the center of his chest. "Like this?" She bit into his flesh, tugged at it, felt his stomach tremble against her own as heat flooded her pussy.
The need for his touch rushed through her like a firestorm, weakening her knees and pulsing through her womb as her breath caught with the sensation.
That smallest indication of her pleasure was nearly enough to break his control. She felt him tighten, watched as his gaze flared, heated, became molten.
A groan rumbled in his chest as he pulled her head back, his own lowering as though in preparation to kiss her.
A kiss that never came. Instead, his lips pressed to her jaw, a muted groan tearing from his lips as he pushed her robe from her shoulders with his free hand before loosening his fingers from her hair, and with that hand, pulled the slender strap of her gown over her shoulder. It was so sensual, so sexual, Rachel couldn't hold back the whimper that tore from her throat.
The bedroom became heated with hunger. Rachel could feel it in the air, brewing between them as she fought to hold on to the shattered senses.
"The need to touch you makes me insane," he growled as the robe and gown puddled at her feet.
She was naked now. Standing before him, her body laid bare for him to see, to stroke, to possess.
"God, look at you." His gaze dropped to her breasts, her nipples tight and hard, so sensitive that the very air moved across them in a stroke of pleasure.
Rachel closed her eyes, lost in the pleasure as his hands cupped her breasts, stroked them. She could feel the imperative need rising between them now, a sense of primal hunger tearing between then.
Rachel felt tremors of need racing down her spine, flickering through her pussy, stoking a flame through it that she wondered if there was any way to put out. Could she ever be sated from his touch, or would the hunger only continue to grow?
As he gripped her nipples between thumb and finger, Rachel promised herself that tonight wasn't just for her. Jonas, she was beginning to realize, would put aside his own wants, his own hungers, for his mate. For her.
Was that fair? So many people took from him; even when he manipulated them into it, still, they took, raged at him for the games he played, the results he achieved, and all he gave of himself. And no one offered of themselves, or of their lives, for Jonas.
And once again, Jonas was willing to give of himself and ask nothing in return.
Was that what she wanted?
Her head tilted back as his lips moved down her neck, rough velvet, stroking pleasure through every nerve ending, yet it wasn't enough.
It was his lips only. No stroke of his tongue, no kiss from his lips. And she wanted it, so desperately.
She was terrified of the mating heat, yet she was just as terrified of never knowing it.
She was terrified, period. Her life was raging out of control in so many ways, and yet in others, it seemed to be exactly where it should be. She was where she should be. Here in Jonas's arms.
And she knew something was missing: his kiss. The feel of his lips moving over hers, his tongue stroking against hers.
His lips were at her breasts, stroking over the flesh, rubbing against her nipple. She arched closer, trying to push her nipple between his lips. She wanted it there, ached to feel it there.
"Jonas." She whispered his name, knowing he was nowhere close to losing his remarkable control.
Should she break it? Could she break it?
She stared down at his dark head, dazed, nearly ready to beg for more.
"Do you think this is enough?" she whispered as his head lifted.