She took a great deal of time fastening her seat belt, straightening her coat, brushing her thick hair back from her eyes. Slowly she turned and looked at him. Her beautiful gray eyes widened.
He waited for the look of disgust. The fear. The realization she’d been rescued by a monster.
Her lips parted. She frowned, then smiled. Her hand came up, as if to touch his face.
He grabbed her wrist. Not that. He wasn’t ready for that.
“It was you, wasn’t it? You’re the one who rescued me.”
Her voice was soft, the inflection showing just a trace of the Northeast. He suddenly remembered that neither one of them had spoken a word the night before.
No words.
Moans. Whimpers. He’d made her scream, made her sob. Made her cry. Made himself cry, for that matter. But no words.
He cleared his throat, opened his mouth to speak. To tell her she was wrong. That she must be thinking of someone else. Someone whole. Unmarked.
Human.
She pressed her finger against his mouth, as if to explore. He jerked away from her touch.
She blinked in surprise, but she touched him once more, her hand cupping the side of his face. “I know it was you. Don’t deny it. Pheromones? Your scent…I’m not sure how I know, but I do.” She laughed. It was a surprisingly harsh sound. “My pussy knows, that’s for sure. I’m getting wet. My muscles are already finding a rhythm—your rhythm—tightening, relaxing….”
The image filled his mind, all that moist flesh, ripening, preparing for him. His sac tightened, his testicles crawled up close to his body. He felt heat and the pulsing throb of the big artery feeding blood the length of his cock. Felt himself stretch, grow. Lengthen.
Her words shocked him. Surprised him.
Turned him on. Dear God, it was all he could do to restrain himself. Didn’t she understand what she was doing? What she’d already done? He wanted to rip her clothes off, take her here, in the backseat of the car, with Oliver just on the other side of the tinted glass. Fuck her until she couldn’t see straight.
Couldn’t see him. “You don’t know what you’re saying.” He had to swallow and clear his throat. “You don’t know who I am. What I am.”
She smiled, an easy, natural smile that lit up her entire face. “Ah, but I do. You’re the man who saved my life. The man who made love to me all night long.” She blinked. He was surprised to see her eyes fill with tears. “You’re the man who made me feel more feminine, more desirable, than I’ve ever felt in my life.”
He reached up and turned on the overhead light, then grabbed her by the shoulders. His laughter sounded harsh. Painful. “Look at me. Really look at me. Does this turn you on? This face? Yes, we had sex—in the dark. Your back was to me, your eyes turned away. Could you look at me, see me as I am, when I shove my cock up that wet pussy of yours? Would you still want me when I’m tied with you, when my cock swells and traps you against my body, holds you to me like a bitch in heat? Holds you so you have to stare into this face, see this body? Could you do that, little girl? Could you fuck me without the fantasy?”
He growled, released his grip on her shoulders and turned away. “That was inexcusable. I am sorry. I will have Oliver take you home. Please give him your address.”
Stunned, Xandi could only stare in silence as he first snarled at her, then turned away in disgust. With her? No, she thought. Most likely with himself, though why he should think his amazing countenance would put her off…No, it didn’t put her off, not at all. The effect was exactly the opposite.
The words he’d said in anger rocked her body. A sensual litany, a promise of unimaginable pleasure: when my cock swells and traps you against my body…when I shove my cock up that wet pussy of yours…could you fuck me…fuck me…fuck me…
Oh, God, yes!
She’d sensed it last night, this link, this need she felt for him. Of course, then she’d merely thought him a man. A normal, albeit very sexy, man. Suddenly the passion, the unimaginable lust, made sense. There was something beyond human, beyond normal desire, with this person. Something her body craved, her mind needed. Something about him that made her whole.
She studied his profile in the dim light of the overhead lamp. He was obviously not completely human, though what he was couldn’t possibly be. She glanced at his hands. A man’s hands—large, the knuckles big and bony, the nails neatly trimmed, the hair thick across the backs of his fingers.
She remembered the feel of that silky hair. She’d clasped his arms against her just last night. Held him tightly while he palmed her breasts, caressed her between her legs.
Loved her. Passionately.
Now that she could see him, even though he was dressed in a pair of dark pants and a black turtleneck sweater, she realized most of his body must be covered with the silky fur. It wasn’t black, as she’d first thought. No, it was more a deep gray tipped with silver. The hair on his head grew long, falling to his shoulders, and it was the same dark gray, also tipped with silver.
What she’d thought was his beard was so much more. The same silver-tipped fur covered his face, his jaw…and what could only be described as his muzzle. His nose was dark, his lips almost black. When he curled his upper lip, she saw sharp, white canines.
Even his ears were animalistic, triangular, held close to his head, lying back against his skull as if he were angry…or frightened?
Still human, yet very much the beast. An elemental creature, so out of place in the backseat of a Mercedes limousine.
She was a fool to want him. He wasn’t human. He wasn’t natural.
He was so much more. So very much.
He turned slowly around until he sat facing her. His hands rested on his muscular thighs. His shoulders rose and fell as he took deep breaths, straining the seams of his sweater. She felt his soft sigh as much as she heard the whisper of sound.
“Your address? Please, I would like to take you home.”
“No.” She shook her head, wrapped her fingers around his right wrist. He started to tug his hand away, but she held on. “I want to go home with you.” She looked up at him, forcing him to see her as a woman. A woman who was more intrigued than disgusted with the beast that was so obviously a huge part of him. “I want to make love with you again. I want…” She choked up. Couldn’t force the words out. “I don’t want to lose what you have given me. Please? Take me with you. Whoever—whatever—you are. I need to know…more. Do you understand?”
He frowned. His silver-tipped brows drew together over that long, lupine nose. His eyes glowed amber, practically golden in the dim interior light of the car, the pupils narrowed to black, diamond-shaped shards. “No,” he said, glancing down at her fingers wrapped tightly around his arm. “No, I really don’t understand. Look at me. See what I am. Not who…What.”
She sucked in a deep, shuddering breath. Let it out. Sensed, somehow, her entire future rested on her answer. “I see what you are, though I have no explanation. I want very much to know who you are.” She tightened her grip around his wrist and slowly turned his hand so that it rested palm-side up on his thigh.
“You can’t deny that you felt it, felt what happened between us last night.” How does one explain a link, a connection, so powerful, so…pure? She placed her left hand in his, studied the difference in their colors, the huge discrepancy in size.
She’d known last night that the man holding her was big. She’d had no real sense of his actual size. His hand dwarfed hers, his shoulders were broad, his chest muscles rippled through the black turtleneck. She couldn’t even guess at his height, but figured he was well over six and a half feet tall.
She raised her chin and