Shifting her slightly, he growled, “If you don’t stop, I’m going to put the bag down, bend you over my knee and turn that beautiful little ass of yours a nice shade of red.”
“You wouldn’t dare.” She sounded skeptical but the thrashing ceased.
“Don’t count on it. I’ve been in hell the last few weeks. Delivering a small dose of what I’ve suffered to your derriere might be just what the doctor ordered.”
“I can’t be your mate,” she argued hoarsely. “You know that, right? It’s not possible.”
He stopped in front of his bike and climbed aboard, keeping her weight balanced with the arm under her legs. “And why is that?”
“I’m human,” she answered as if it were the most logical thing in the world.
“And?” He situated her across his lap and used his free arm to retrieve the bag and place it in her lap.
“And nothing!”
“Doesn’t sound like nothing to me, baby.”
She started struggling again, nearly sending the bag to the concrete in her efforts to gain freedom. “Damn it, it won’t work, there is no way—”
He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and arms, forcing her to go still. “Why won’t it work? Tell me.”
“You’ll…you’ll…” She shrugged after a moment, staring straight ahead, refusing to look at him.
Lowering his voice an octave, he prodded, “I’ll what?”
“You’ll hurt me,” she expelled in a rush. “I’ve heard rumors of what it’s like, and in case you haven’t noticed I’m a third your size.”
For the first time in his life his heart actually felt laden with an invisible weight. She might know about shifters but she didn’t know about shifters. A male would die before he ever harmed his mate. It was ingrained from the moment of birth, buried deeply within, an instinct to protect and defend, to nurture and cherish.
Grasping her chin, he forced her to meet his eyes. “I would never hurt you. Believe what you will about me, my kind and our lifestyle. But trust in this. To hurt you would be to hurt myself. We are connected, and through that bond we will share both pain and pleasure.”
Arousal tinted the air and he struggled not to respond to her need. He could sense her confusion and doubt, her uncertainty and fear. First he had to take her home. There he would feed her, talk to her, soothe her and, ultimately, claim her.
Caressing her cheek with his thumb, he whispered, “I’m going to take you home with me. This thing between us isn’t going to go away. I promise to be as patient as I can and to answer any questions you have. Just don’t shut me out. That’s all I ask.”
For a moment he worried she might argue but then she nodded. “As long as you promise not to do anything I don’t want you to do. We’re going to talk, nothing else.”
He retrieved the key from his pocket and grinned. He’d have her so needy and eager to come she wouldn’t know yes from no. Of course, he wasn’t going to tell her that. The best way to learn sometimes was by jumping in headfirst, and in this case, his head was making a beeline for the paradise between her thighs.
He started the bike and growled in approval when she wrapped her left arm beneath his jacket and clutched his ribs. “I won’t do anything unless you beg me to, how’s that?”
“Dream on,” she muttered and he just knew she was rolling her eyes.
Bending slightly at the waist, he revved up the bike and purred, “Hang on, Ava mine. From here on in, it’s going to be one hell of a ride.”
Chapter Five
They were just going to talk.
Yeah right.
Ava gulped and bit her lip when she felt Diskant’s pronounced erection press into her back as he reached above her to retrieve dishes from the overhead cabinet. The hard length prodded, pressed and rubbed against her spine until it was difficult to remain still or keep quiet.
True to his word, he hadn’t done anything to garner her anger or disapproval. However, those passing touches—his bristled chin against her neck as he retrieved the key from the motorcycle, his large hands grasping her waist to help her down from the bike, the heat of his breath caressing her cheek as he bowed over her much smaller frame to open the door to the firehouse—and the constant use of the nickname he obviously preferred, were driving her mad.
His soft lips brushed against her ear as he whispered huskily, “I’ll leave these here for you. I’m going to the basement to get a bottle of wine and check on Oscar.”
An infinitesimal tendril of heat twined down her ear and neck, traveling to her nape before prickling down her spine. Talking was out of the question. Her tongue was too heavy, as were her breasts, which strained each time they came within proximity of his body, the nipples going taut in invitation.
Jesus, this is crazy!
He was a shifter—an Omega! There was no logical explanation for him to view her as a mate.
Granted, the reading material the Villati had shared was limited. They only wanted to offer her a taste, attempting to bait her to join their ranks with the promise of endless knowledge. There was nothing about human mates inside those pages, not a single word. She’d learned a long time ago while working the club that shifters didn’t date or become entangled with humans. She assumed it was due to the fact that human women had to be too fragile for what they wanted sexually. One wrong move and a night of consensual sex could end in a homicide. Of that she was certain.
“Pinkie?” Diskant’s throaty murmur of concern snapped her out of her dark musings.
Quickly clearing her throat, she managed to respond evenly, “Wine sounds great.”
He shifted his hips as he passed, allowing her to feel the firm ridge of his cock as it was pressed between his leather pants and her cotton shirt. Her breath caught and a spasm at the apex of her thighs was followed by a fiery flood of wetness as arousal rained from her sex and coated her panties. Thighs quaking, she bit her lower lip again and forced herself to remain still. She would not give in to the knee-jerk reaction to clench her legs together. If she did he would notice, and she did have some pride left.
Although she knew he could smell her desire, Diskant didn’t say a word, behaving like an utter gentleman and leaving the kitchen to retrieve the wine as promised. She watched as his body rippled beneath his tight black turtleneck, the muscles in his shoulders contorting and stretching as walked from the room and vanished past the entranceway.
She sagged onto the counter and laid her head on her folded arms, forcing herself to breathe through her nose rather than pant like a bitch in heat. The fragrant aroma of chicken parmesan would have beckoned if her body weren’t so damn hot and achy. Once upon a time she’d yearned for this kind of sexual tension. However, back then the man she’d wanted it from hadn’t frightened her or made her entire body burn. Whereas Martin had been quiet, intellectual and nonthreatening, Diskant was brash, masculine and powerful. They were polar opposites and, for a split second, she wondered how in the holy hell she’d ever been attracted to her one-time fiancé in the first place.
While mentally stimulating, Martin had never been able to satisfy her sexually. The more she’d tried to initiate play in the bedroom, the more he’d rebelled against the notion. He was a missionary man through and through, which was why she’d finally ended their engagement altogether. Being in control of her life, her brother’s screw-ups, and dealing with the increasing annoyances of the Villati drained her. She needed one place she could relinquish the weight of responsibility, allowing her to simply be for a while.
Diskant would give her that. There was no way he would allow her to boss him around or dictate how they wrangled sexually in the bedroom. What would it be like to have him tell her what to do? To grant him the authority to take his pleasure as he pleased and, in turn, nourish her own? As a shifter, he would be disease free and safe. What would it be like to have a night of sex without any worries or repercussions?