There was a mixture of lust and something else she couldn’t name—tenderness, maybe. Possession. She was too susceptible to him, her feelings too confused. She wanted to fall into his arms and be held. Or rub herself up and down his skin. Or slide her mouth over his tempting shaft and lap at his cream like a starving cat.

Jake’s fingertips rubbed her scalp in a hypnotic massage. “Not one woman, Emma. And I never will again. You’re mine. I don’t let go of what is mine.” His hand tightened in her hair, pulling her head back so he had access to her mouth in another long, gentle kiss.

Emma felt herself melting. Jake, as a rule, wasn’t gentle, but his kiss, just for a moment, felt like love before his passion, his lust, took over and he was in a feeding frenzy again, growing hotter and more wild. She opened her mouth under the demand of his tongue and let him take her away, let him carry her back into his carnal world of sin and sex. His arms were enormously strong, circling her, sweeping her into that vortex of mind-numbing pleasure.

He was so strong, his personality overwhelming. Everything about Jake was compelling and mesmerizing. Even his aura of danger drew something inside of her straight to him. His hands stroked her skin, soothing, tender—at first—but when a moan escaped and her breath began to come in ragged gasps, he took her to the next level, playing her body like the master he was. His fingers tugged at her nipples, twisting and pulling a little harder, his teeth scraping sensitive skin. His mouth found his marks on her breast and he lapped at them with his tongue so that it rasped over the sensitive nerve endings until she trembled anew.

She loved that roughness in him, that switch from tender to rough hunger, as if his need of her was so great he was on the edge of his control. And yet, even though she was so willing and wanting, there was a part of her that screamed: No. No. Stop what you’re doing. You’re jeopardizing everything you have.

Jake cupped her breasts in his hands. So firm. So tempting. How many times had he walked into the nursery and seen her breast-feeding Andraya? He didn’t know about other men, but the sight always sent erotic pleasure streaking through him. He’d always wanted to drop to his knees and taste her. She was so beautiful, a sensual woman in her natural state.

He kissed her again, loving her mouth. He’d always loved her mouth, had dreamt of it so many times. She tasted even better than he’d imagined, all sweet and tangy and so Emma. He loved the heat of her body, the way she opened for him when his hands moved over her down to her thighs, already wet and needy and willing to accommodate him. Her body was his, even though she still wanted to deny it.

He watched her face as he applied pressure to the hard little point of her breast, saw her face flush as heat spread, watched the bite of pain blur with intense pleasure as he tugged. Her breath came in a ragged gasp and her eyes got that sexy glaze he loved. She was exquisite, even more so when aroused. He lowered his head and took one breast into his mouth. Licking, sucking, teeth tugging and nipping, he watched her every reaction, driving her higher and higher.

He moved down to lick at her abdomen, teasing her intriguing belly button, lapping up the drops from her fiery curls. Her breath came out in a long hiss as he flicked his tongue across her mound. He lowered his body, sliding down her, spreading her thighs, still watching her, loving the way her eyes lost focus and turned wholly emerald, nearly glowing at him with slumberous lust.

He took a long, slow, deliberate lick, his tongue swirling around her tight bud, and then flicked back and forth over it until she was gasping, fighting and writhing under him. Her nerve endings, already so sensitive, sizzled and burned. He made love to her in the only way he knew how—raw, sensual, driving her past all preconceived limits. Taking her as high as she thought she could go and then more, sucking, licking, stroking, using teeth, tongue and fingers. She might not think he was loving her, but it was the only expression of emotion he could give her. This was who he was. He took his time, kissing, paying attention to her slightest reaction before his mouth hungrily latched on to her hot, wet sheath to tip her over the edge.

She screamed, lifting her hips as he pushed his tongue into her with a slow, hard stroke. Her body was an inferno, so hot, so wet, a raging fire threatening to consume her. She sobbed for release. Jake sucked her clit into his mouth, flicking the tight bud with his tongue, raking with his teeth against it. She stiffened, sobbed again, her nails digging in his shoulders, and then her body melted, turned to liquid as the earth-shattering orgasm overtook her.

When she quieted, he was back standing above her, offering his pulsing shaft. She opened her thighs to accept him, but he reached down and urged her up to her knees, shaking his head, although he was desperate to be inside of her. “No,” he said softly, his voice firm, demanding even. “Not this time. I need your mouth on me again, Emma. I need to see you wanting me, everything that I am.” Because she had given him everything but what he needed and he was taking everything from her. She was his. And he was going to make her know it, whether she wanted to admit it or not. Withhold her love from him? She thought it wasn’t love?

He did need her mouth, so hot and sexy, more than he could ever express or explain to her. She hadn’t surrendered. Did she think he couldn’t feel the conflict in her? Her body was his, but not her heart or mind, and he wouldn’t settle for less than everything—total surrender. She had to know who she belonged to, who she’d been born for.

The leopard growled and paced, raked with claws, kept a relentless assault on his mind. Take her. Take her. She belongs to me. She has to know she is mine. The need thundered in his heart, in his body, a roar of absolute supremacy. The cat was wild, furious that she wouldn’t submit totally to him.