Her nipples beaded. A small tremor sent a spasm through her channel. He pushed another finger into her, scissored them apart to stretch her. He did it casually, still watching her face, holding her gaze captive with his. A small burn as he stretched her sent heat spiraling through her sheath, rocking her. He was barely touching her and she thought he might make her explode.

Her hips undulated, pressed into his hand so that she tried to ride his fingers. He withdrew them immediately. “Lie still for me, baby. I’m going to eat you. Do to you just what I’ve wanted to do every night we’ve been in bed together.”

His eyes burned her, they were so hot as they moved over her body. His face was a study in raw, masculine beauty. She loved his face, especially when he looked at her with such command, such stark sensuality. He was the epitome of sexy to her. His rough tone coupled with his explicit intent sent more honey and spice spilling from her body in anticipation. She tugged her lower lip between her teeth in an effort to keep her hips still for him, wanting his fingers back. Aching for his mouth.

“When I wake up needing my mouth on your breasts, between your legs, Kitten, do you know what I decided I was going to do about it from now on?”

She shook her head. She was trembling all over now. So hot. So needy, and he still hadn’t even really touched her.

“I’m going to do whatever the hell I want to do,” he said softly and gripped her hips in his hard hands.

The breath slammed out of her. She actually began to feel a little feverish. A little desperate for him. She wanted to plead with him to stop talking and get to it, but she knew that if she did, he’d make her wait longer, building that tension already coiling so tight in her body.

His hooded eyes moved over her then, his carved features stamped with possession. His hands followed his gaze, moving down from her shoulders to her breasts. She waited, holding her breath, needing him to suckle, to lavish attention, to tug and roll her nipples the way he did, but his palms just slipped over her curves and moved down her rib cage to her waist and then lower to her belly.

“I’d like to see that tattoo on you, baby,” he said. “On the small of your back, but right here, I’d like a little ring so I could put a chain around your belly and play with it when I make love to you.”

He was killing her. It took every ounce of self-control she had not to allow her legs to shift restlessly, or her hips to move. He was killing her with the soft brush of his fingers and his erotic images.

“Would you do that for me?”

“If you asked me to,” she admitted. Because she’d do anything for him to make him happy. If that was really something that mattered to him, then it mattered to her. She didn’t mind tattoos. In fact, she loved his. She’d never thought about piercings, but a small belly ring might be sexy.

“If I asked you to?” he repeated, his hands sliding lower to frame her mound and then slip lower still to sweep over her inner thighs. He frowned a little.

“I meant if I thought it mattered to you,” she hastened to explain. It was difficult to think straight when her body was on fire. “I’ve never considered either, and I really like tattoos. I hadn’t thought about a belly ring, but it might be nice.”

“You’d do it for me if it mattered to me?”

His eyes were back on hers and her stomach did a crazy flip. She’d said the right thing, she could see how pleased he was. Her answer mattered to him whether she did it or not. She loved that she’d put that look in his eyes.

“Of course. I like doing things for you,” she admitted.

His smile took her breath away. He stretched out on the bed, on his belly and put her legs over his shoulders. Her breath hitched again. He looked so sexy, his gaze focused now, this time on the junction between her legs. He looked hungry, like a predatory animal about to feast. The raw sensuality was carved deep into the lines of his face and there in his eyes.

Her body pulsed and throbbed and without any more encouragement than his focused stare, more hot spice slipped out. His hands stroked her thighs and her temperature rose until she felt as if the very blood in her veins had caught fire.

She closed her eyes when she felt his warm breath first. The smallest of things, yet her inner muscles reacted, pulsing with need. She felt as if time had stopped. She heard her heart beat. The clock ticking. The wind in the trees. He had to do something or she was going to die.

He made a single sound, low in his throat, like the snarl or growl of a leopard about to devour a meal it had caught. Her heart nearly exploded and she tightened her fists around the thick dowels to anchor herself.

His tongue slid through her hot, slick folds like a caress and her entire body jerked. A low cry escaped her throat before she could hold it back. His eyes jumped to her face, a golden, hot gaze that warned her not to move, not to disturb him, that he would go at his own pace.

Catarina forced her twisting body to still. To give him all the control. She realized in that moment he was already in control of her, but not so much of himself. He was truly one with his leopard, and he wanted his feast and was going to take it. The primal frenzy was on him and it only made her burn hotter for him.

Eli began licking her like a cat might lap a bowl of cream. His tongue rasped over and into her, sending her nearly spiraling out of control at the first touch. Electrical currents raced to her breasts like tiny bolts of lightning, making them sensitive and achy. Her stomach muscles coiled so tightly it hurt. She fought for air when her lungs burned, reminding her she had to breathe.