She was addictive. He couldn’t stop kissing her. He never wanted to stop. The taste of her lingered in his mouth—in his mind. She’d somehow crawled down his throat to spread like a virus through his entire body, so that he was an addict. He needed to feed on that wild, elusive taste. That lavender scent mixed with her pheromones stayed with him every moment of the day and night. He’d waited, knowing her leopard was close to the surface and that it would drive her into a sexual frenzy of need. He had been ruthless enough to wait, to watch, to be close at hand so that no other had a chance to interfere or come between them.

He couldn’t resist her mouth, that full lower, almost pouty lip that drove him insane. He kissed her again, drowning in her those long, addictive kisses he couldn’t get enough of. He’d never be satisfied with anyone else. He knew it. She was branded in his very bones, wrapped tight inside of him. He kissed her again and again, keeping her pinned to the wall, one leg wrapped tight around his thigh. He lifted his head, once more coming up for air. There were things that had to be said. Explanations. Truths that needed to be revealed, but he couldn’t think straight enough, not with her leopard so close. The emerging was soon. Another day. Maybe two. Maybe tonight.

The idea of her coming to him like this, so in need, hardened his body into a painful ache of urgency. He knew in the morning there would be tears and regret, if her leopard didn’t emerge. Confusion. Perhaps even anger toward him, but he couldn’t stop himself to give her the explanations of being a shifter. She probably wouldn’t believe him and she was in no condition—and neither was he—to wait. Hopefully her leopard would rise and everything would turn out the way it should.

His thumb moved back and forth across the curve of the sweet temptation of her lower lip. “You’ll be afraid, Blue. I know you will, but look to me. Not anyone else. I’ll get you through this. Just keep looking to me.”

She stood in her lacy blue bra, her nipples hard and red from his teeth and mouth. Her breasts lifted with every ragged breath she drew in, a temptation impossible to resist. Before she could reply, he was kissing her again. There was too much confusion in her eyes. Trepidation. Fear of his roughness, and he couldn’t be gentle, as hard as he tried. His leopard drove him, and now, more than ever, with her female rising, his male was too close to the surface for tenderness to show.

Kissing Bijou was better than any fine wine he’d ever tasted. He tried to stop, tried to find enough semblance of control to at least reassure her he wouldn’t hurt her. He managed to lift his head inches from hers, resting his forehead against hers, looking into those amazing blue leopard eyes. He brushed back her hair, looking into her eyes, trying to reassure her when he was already ripping away her innocence with his roughness.

He was far too experienced not to recognize that she was innocent, but his leopard didn’t care, and neither did hers. His hands moved over her of their own accord, shaping all that soft exposed skin. His. She was his, now and for all time. Her skin was so soft, like satin, and he blazed a trail of fire from her mouth down her chin to her throat and back up to her mouth again because there was nothing else he could do. He had to kiss her. Had to touch her. Their choices were long gone.

6

BIJOU made a sound, a soft little cry that tore at Remy, inflamed him, made him all the more desperate for her. He had to get skin to skin. Blood surged hotly, pooled low and wicked, until he was one giant ache. He bent his mouth to her breast, his hand going to the other nipple as his teeth tugged and teased. He wanted her more than aroused, more than ready. He wasn’t going to give her one moment to back out or change her mind. He was too far gone.

She writhed against him, pressing her back into the wall, a soft little cry somewhere between pain and pleasure escaping. He caught at her with hard hands, whirled her around and pushed her hard against the wall, his hands dropping to the waistband of her jeans. He stripped her clothes and shoes from her, holding her still with one hard hand against her back, unrelenting, not allowing her to move while he removed every bit of cloth that might come between them.

His own clothes followed, while he breathed deep, trying to keep his animal instincts at bay. He kissed his way up the back of her legs, nuzzled her firm bottom and made her yelp when he bit her twice, the second time deliberately leaving his mark.

“Remy, it’s too much,” she whispered. Her body trembled, her arms flat against the wall, her head turned to one side as she tried to look at him through her long fall of silky hair.

His hand slipped between the wall and her flat belly, continued that slide lower as he stood, until he was cupping her hot mound while pressing himself against her back, pinning her there to the wall. She was hotter and slicker than anything he’d ever felt. His finger slid inside of her. She moaned and her body clamped down tight. Her hips bucked involuntarily. He bent his head to her shoulder, kissing her neck, nuzzling her as his finger moved in and out in a slow replica of what he wanted most.

Her buttocks rubbed against him as she gasped and moved, unable to be still. He sank his teeth into soft skin and she cried out, hot liquid pouring over his finger, lubricating her enough that he could sink two fingers deep.

“What are you doing?” Her voice was muffled. Husky. Desperate.

His tongue lapped at the marks on her shoulder and neck. “Getting you ready for me.”

“I don’ know what I’m doin’,” she confided. “I’ve never been with a man.” She took a breath. “Teach me, Remy. I want to please you.”