“On fruit! Not your skin.”
“Elise.” One word said strongly enough she seemed to hold her breath. “I want this. I’m asking you to give it to me.”
“To send a message to Vanessa.”
“No. Because I want it. Rubbing Vanessa’s nose in it after the way she’s treated you is just a bonus.”
“What if I screw up?”
“You’re not going to screw up. It’s no different than today.”
Her gaze dropped to his chest and she swallowed huge.
“It looks right there,” he said. “That voice or instinct you felt last night and today knows it. Don’t be afraid. Give me what I want and make it real for me.”
She studied the outline. The machine and ink ready and waiting beside her. Then searched his face and whispered, “This is crazy.”
“Stop thinking. Just do it.”
With a tiny shake of her head, she wiped her palms on her jeans and scanned the tray. “Shouldn’t I wear gloves or something?”
“Voláns with their magic don’t contract infections like singura do. Plus, I’m warrior house, so surface wounds don’t last long on my skin. Besides all that, you’re my mate. I don’t want gloves on you.”
She nodded, picked up the machine and got it situated in her grip just as she had at the shop. She inked up like a pro, faced him and cocked her head, considered his position and then how she was perched on the chair’s edge. “This doesn’t feel right.” Dropping to her knees between his splayed legs, she let out a slow breath through her mouth, leaned in and tentatively braced her hand on his shoulder. “Wow. This is...different.”
Fuck different. It was potent. A supercharged profoundness mixed with a primal edge. “It’s the bond. Trust it.”
Narrowing her gaze, she fired up the machine.
The buzz jolted through him, but it was her breath against his skin that registered the strongest. The warmth of her hands and the nearness of her body. The needles made contact a second later and a wave of deep red rippled against his skin.
Elise jerked back. “What was that?”
He caught her with hands at her waist before she could get far. “Just my magic. A natural defense for warriors. A shield to block superficial injuries.” He urged her back into position. “If it thought you were a threat, it wouldn’t have let you in, but my magic knows you. It’ll spread out and pull you in with it as you go.” He smoothed his hands to her hips and prayed she’d be too occupied by what she was doing to notice the rigid length straining just inches away. “It’s okay. Keep going.”
He paced his breathing. Focused on every physical point of contact and willed his magic to settle. To surround and soothe her.
She settled into a rhythm. Inking the needles. Drawing a steady line. Dabbing the excess ink away and assessing her work. It was the same steady concentration she’d used at the shop, but there was more to it this time. A connection within her movements that built and strengthened with each line. A focus lasered on to something felt more than seen. Whether it was his magic pulling her in, their bond guiding her, or the act itself, he couldn’t figure out, but she was fully in the moment. Invested at the most fundamental level and riding her instincts. Flowing with the wave they created.
He wanted her like that beneath him. Lost to only the sensations he gave her. Free of any thoughts but the ones they created together. Mindless and wild.
The buzz stopped, and the room’s silence pressed heavy around them.
Elise swiped the last line, the lingering drag of her fingertip almost remorseful. As if she hated the fact there wasn’t more left to give. “Done.”
No, she wasn’t. Not even close. One look at her face—at the curiosity and longing as she studied not just the mark she’d left behind, but his torso—and he knew with absolute certainty she was far from done. His mate was hungry. Intrigued and cautiously considering a whole new terrain.
Slipping one arm around her waist, he tugged the machine from her fingers, set it aside and then cupped the back of her neck. “It’s okay, Elise. I’m yours. You don’t need an excuse to touch me.”
Gaze still locked to her name, she traced her fingers beneath the ink. As if the simple gesture might somehow underscore his words and help her come to grips with her new reality.
“More.” Keeping one hand anchored at her nape, he covered her hand with his and flattened it against his sternum. “Take what you want.”
Her gaze shot to his. “How do you know what I want?”
“Because I feel it, mihara. Need to give you what you want as much as you want to take it.” He released his grip and leaned back on the ottoman, propping himself up on his elbows and giving her unimpeded access. “All you need to do is take what’s yours.”
Chapter Eleven
So tempting. A virile male—a prime one so far beyond Elise’s imagination or fantasies she still couldn’t believe it—stretched out in front of her. Offering her unimpeded touch. An exploration. And he was hers.
Her mate, if what he said was true. Chosen specifically for her. The revelation was both astounding and humbling, wrapped up in a healthy amount of disbelief.
She licked her lips, for all the good it did her. Her mouth and tongue were equally dry and showed no signs of catching up.
Her gaze slipped lower, lingering a bit too long on the obvious erection beneath his track pants before shifting her focus back to his face. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
“Why not?”
Because she didn’t know what she was doing. Because the last thing she wanted was to look like an idiot. “Because I’m not ready,” she said instead.
He pushed himself upright and cupped both sides of her face. “I’m not offering this as a lead-in to sex. I’m offering you this as a starting point. A chance for us to learn each other. For you to explore.” He paused a beat, his gaze roving her face, considering. “Do you want to touch me?”
“God, yes.” It slipped out, fully uncensored and breathy with relief and need. If she had the courage to take what he offered, he’d be stretched out naked on the bed behind them so she could soak in every detail and feel every inch of him.
“Then do it.” He shifted one hand to the back of her head and tugged her ponytail holder free. Digging his fingers deep along her occipital bone, he combed the thick strands from root to tip. “I want to touch you, too, Elise. Very much.”
“That’s kind of what I’m afraid of.”
His mouth crooked in a wry smile. “Then you set the pace. For tonight, however you touch me—wherever you explore—sets the boundary.”
Well, that was clear enough. And reasonable. Except for one thing. “Won’t you...” Ugh, but she hated her inexperience. Hated not having the right words to use in this situation. She dipped her head toward the still straining length between them. “Won’t that be uncomfortable for you?”
She’d expected laughter, or maybe an awkward moment. Instead, his golden eyes warmed and his smile softened. “Just because we’re intimate doesn’t mean either one of us has to get off.”
It didn’t? Because, from all the stories she’d heard, that was the end game everyone seemed most focused on. “But you’ll still be...” She shrugged and glanced downward.
“Then you will be, too.” He grinned huge, a wicked edge to it that made her sex clench. “Unless you decide to take matters into your own hands, of course. In which case, I’d enjoy like hell watching.”
Another flutter. This one stealing a little of her breath and making her tighten her grip on Tate’s thighs to remain steady.
He cocked his head, the sharpness in his gaze telling her he’d caught the subtle response. “You like cake?”
Huh? Cake? “Um...yes?”
“Ever lick the spoon while you were making the batter?”
“Of course.”
“
Did you like it?”
Okay, this was officially the weirdest erotic conversation she’d had in her life. Not to mention the only erotic conversation she’d ever had. “Yes.”
“And the cake after it was baked...ever eaten it without frosting?”
“Sure.”
“Would you turn it down without the frosting?”
“No.”
He traced the line of her jaw with one knuckle, the heat and thoughtfulness behind his gaze electrifying the contact. “That’s what intimacy is supposed to be like. The whole process is good. Something to enjoy. Just because you don’t end up with icing doesn’t negate how good the rest of it is.”
Oh.
Okay.
No immediate need for icing.
Though, right about now, that felt like a damned shame.
His thumb skimmed along her lower lip, the contact making her realize they’d parted at some point in the process. “What do you want, mihara? Not what you think you should do, or what you think I want—but what you want?”
She wanted to touch. Wanted to take her sweet time and look her fill without worry. “I set the pace?”
“Only the boundaries you set.”
Her heart’s erratic rhythm thundered in her head and, despite the solid floor beneath her feet and the walls around her, she could have sworn her toes were poised at the edge of a ten-thousand-foot cliff. She coiled her hand around his wrist and held on tight. “Okay.”
His rumbled exhale was rich with relief and pure masculine satisfaction, and the wildness burning behind his eyes made her breath catch. “My brave mate. All mine.”
Twisting his wrist, he captured her hand and skimmed his lips along her knuckles. “Come on.” Before she could process what he meant, he stood and pulled her to her feet.
“Wait. Where are we going?”
He pulled his hair free of its holder and backed toward the bed, breaking their joined hands only when necessary to stretch out on top of the comforter. “Where you’ve got plenty of room to work.”
Whoa, boy.
This was real. Not a daydream. Not some detached wishful thinking void of witnesses, but the real freaking deal. She inched closer, utterly clueless on next steps.
“It’s okay, Elise. Just kick your sandals off and crawl up here. There’s no right or wrong. Just what feels good to you.”
What felt good to her? He was the one being touched and, for some reason, wanting whatever she did to feel awesome for him seemed imperative. Still, he clearly knew more about how to navigate this scenario than her, so she went with it. Shoes off, she put one knee to the mattress and tried to kneel on one side of his hips, but he caught her other knee and guided her so she straddled him instead.
“Oh.” She stood tall on her knees, glanced down at the still very prominent erection beneath his pants, then back behind her. “Won’t it be uncomfortable for you if I sit here?”
He chuckled and urged her downward with hands at her hips. “Not like you think.”
Right. And now she not only had a bird’s-eye view of how hard he was, but the base of his cock was just an inch from her own sex.
He cocked his knees behind her, effectively shifting her balance forward so she had to catch herself with hands at either side of his head. It also obliterated what was left of the space between them and brought her core flush against his cock. It was just a hint of contact, but the impact it sent scurrying through her was on par with an electric jolt. “Wow.”
His eyes crinkled at the sides with a hint of mischief. “Wow, good? Or, wow, too much?”
“Wow, good.” Wow, very very good was more like it. So much so she wasn’t entirely confident her body could process the rush all at once. She forced herself to take a deeper breath and let her gaze drift downward. Across the wide slabs of his pectorals, down his sternum and the defined muscles in his abdomen. Touching him before had been one thing. A necessity to give him what he wanted with guilty pleasures thrown in as a side benefit. But this was intentional. A connection far more intimate. “I’m not sure where to start.”
He tucked the hair that had fallen along one side of her face behind her ear. “Turn your mind off. Just go with what feels right and see where it takes you.”
Her gaze snagged on her name now inked just above his heart. On the swirling black lines marred only by the red, irritated aftereffects of the needles piercing his flesh.
You’re my mate.
The same flutter and flush she’d felt when he’d uttered those words stirred in her belly all over again, and that indefinable and overpowering force that had sprung to life this afternoon lifted its head, awake and eager for all he offered. She traced the tail of the stylized E, careful not to further aggravate the mark. “Do you have any idea how surreal this is?”
“Which part?”
“All of it.” Emboldened, she splayed her hands against his warm skin. So much strength. Every muscle lean, deeply defined and covered by taut, tan skin. The dusting of gold hair along his pecs and sternum tickled her palms and she could have sworn her heartbeat settled into a rhythm to match the one beneath her touch. “The clan. What we can do.” She shifted her hands up and outward, savoring the corded lines of his shoulders and down to his biceps. “Having a mate.”
His hands settled on her hips. When he spoke, his voice was different. Deeper and a little strained. “Does that scare you?”
“Logic tells me it should. That the whole notion isn’t possible.”
“But?”
She smoothed her fingertips down his sternum and lower to his abs. A trail of hair slightly darker like his beard dipped low and disappeared beneath the waistband of his pants. Temptation nudged her to follow it. To tease the subtle line and see what response it garnered. “My mother told me for years about our clan. About our magic and the ability to shift.” Slow and steady, she followed the path, her lungs straining harder for breath with every inch gained. “I listened to logic once and it was wrong. I’d rather follow my gut this time and see where it takes me.”
“Elise?”
She didn’t dare look up. Not with the dangerous undercurrent in his voice. She kept her focus rooted downward, instead, and smoothed her hands across his stomach, her thumbs dragging along the waistline of his pants. “Hmmm?”
“What’s your gut want right now?”
To let go.
To see, touch and taste him everywhere and not give a fig about how little she knew. Except they’d made an agreement and taking things to the level she wanted with him would mean offering him the same in kind. She slid her hands toward his hips, the soft cotton of his pants an affront to her senses after the hot, tight press of his flesh. “I want to touch you.”
He could have made fun of her shyness. Could have pointed out she already had her hands on him and forced her to be more specific. Instead, he cupped the side of her face and urged her gaze to his. “It’s okay.” He covered one of her hands with his and guided it closer to the straining length in front of her. “I want your hands on me.”
Two heartbeats. Two ragged, unsteady kicks that went too fast and yet seemed to stretch over eternity.
And then she was there. Her palm pressed against his impossibly hard shaft and his hips flexing into her touch. Her breath rushed out in a shaky exhale. Fascinated by the feel of him, she stroked his length, outlining his shape through the soft cotton. “That’s...different.”
He chuckled, but there was a hint of strain behind it. An incongruent mix of humor at the situation and a struggle for control. “Not what you’d expected?”
“Not even close.” What she actually had expected she couldn’t have articulated if she’d tried, but her imagination had clearly come up woefully short. She dragged her finger down the center then back up again. Soft at first. Then stronger.
Through her explorations, he traced idle patterns
along one shoulder. A subtle touch that both calmed and encouraged her.
As if she needed encouragement. With every stroke and every breath, her courage blossomed. Lifted its head and demanded answers. “Are you...” She cleared her throat and tried again, peeking from beneath her lashes and meeting his eyes. “Can I see you?”
In the lamplight, his amber eyes already ran a deeper, warmer color, but the second the reality of her question registered, they seemed to deepen further and his steady touch at her shoulder faltered. “You’re sure?”
Was she? They’d made an agreement. She set the boundaries and taking this step would push her own limits a lot further out than where she’d thought they’d end up.
Yes.
The times in her life when she’d felt such clear direction were few and far between, but tonight it resonated with perfect clarity. Mind, body and spirit all aligned at once.
She nodded, too bound by whatever it was that moved between them to actually speak. The same energy and unique connections she’d felt between them from the start, only more palpable and crackling with awareness.
Holding her gaze, he lifted his hips and pushed his pants past his hips and down to his corded thighs. “Whatever you want, mihara. It’s yours.”
Wow.
Never in her life had she been so dumbfounded. So caught off guard and floundering for stable footing. But seeing Tate like this—laid out solely for her perusal and exploration—packed a wallop. An emotional loopty-loop that left her thoughts racing to catch up.
She ducked her head and focused on pulling his pants the rest of the way off, praying the action covered some of her fuzzledness. Too soon, she tossed them to the floor and was left with him watching her. Waiting for her to take what she’d asked for.
He cocked one arm and braced it behind his head, propping his head up for a better view. The other hand he splayed above one pec, her name just below the heel of his palm. “I’m trying to be good, but if you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to run out of resolve real fast and claim my own turn.”
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