“I’m going to shift and take a look around, Saria. It may take a while.”

“I want to take some photographs of you. Is that all right? In your leopard form.”

“You know that’s not a good idea.” Drake hated to deny her anything. “Even for your own use, it’s just not a good idea.”

“How could anyone tell the difference between a shifter and a leopard?”

He handed her his shirt, shrugging out of it easily. “They’ll know the picture was taken here in the marsh, honey. How will you explain a leopard in Fenton’s Marsh?”

Saria seemed fascinated by the muscles on his chest. She stared while she folded his shirt. Drake kicked off his shoes and dropped his hands to the front of his jeans. Her gaze dropped with his hands as he parted the material and peeled them from his body. He liked that she was fascinated. She was going to have to get used to seeing him naked and she didn’t seem to mind, although she appeared a little intimidated.

“Your brother Remy is a tough man.” He tried distracting her.

She blinked, trying to focus on his face. “All of them are.”

“This lair needs a strong leader. And he fought circles around their appointed fighter. He’d take any of them down in seconds.”

“My brothers stay to themselves.”

“Isn’t Mahieu seeing Charisse?” He handed her the jeans, desperately trying to think of anything but sex. Suddenly sex was on his mind in a big way, and being a man, he found his thoughts physically impossible to hide. She was already intimidated enough by the thought of having sex with him.

“Well, with any of my brothers you just never know. Lojos and Gage have been givin’ him a really bad time about her, teasin’, you know. Mahieu doesn’t say much, but he’s been hittin’ the jazz clubs with her.”

She made no attempt to pull her gaze away from his body. Her eyes grew big and she raised her eyebrows. “I don’ know, Drake, you’re just a little bigger than I expected.”

The woman could make the devil blush. Instead of stepping back from him, she stepped closer to him and reached toward him hesitantly, as if afraid he’d bat her hand away. He went still. So did his leopard. Both held their breath. Her gaze jumped to his face, burning into his, then dropped again to his heavy erection. Tentatively, her fingers brushed over his cock, a soft slide of just the pads of her fingers, as if he might burn her skin—instead, she burned his.

The breath slammed from his lungs. Hot blood rushed through his veins to pool into aicked, urgent need. Every nerve ending seemed centered in his groin. Her fingers stroked over the length of him, tracing him, shaping him, sliding lower to cup his sac. A low growl escaped, his throat closing on the sound so it came out strangled.

“So hot,” she murmured as if to herself. “Alive.”

“Very alive,” he admitted, gritting his teeth. He didn’t want her to stop, but it was torture, pure and simple.

Saria looked up again at Drake’s face. Lines of desire were etched deep. His eyes had gone fiery gold—like the blazing sun. She moistened her lips. Everything about him was beautiful to her. She loved the idea that his body was so hot and hard just for her. There was something powerful and freeing about taking control. Her fingers played over his body as if it was a musical instrument, sliding and stroking and shaping while she committed the feel of him to her memory. A single pearly drop of his essence leaked from the smooth, velvet head.

Saria stared down at the drop and licked her lips a second time. Her mouth watered. Deep inside, she felt her leopard stir, and then stretch with languid interest. The amorous cat had been driving her crazy earlier in the swamp—something she didn’t want to admit to Drake in front of her brothers, but now she didn’t want her leopard’s response. She wanted this exploration to be all her. Looking up, she thought that Drake’s face could have been carved from stone. His eyes were hooded, heavy-lidded, his expression one of pure power and passion. His eyes had gone completely golden with lust and unbridled need—for her. She drank in the sight of him, her heart pounding with daring.

“Drake.” She stared down at his erection. “Show me.”

He didn’t ask questions, or protest. He took her hand and wrapped it around him like a fist. He showed her how to pump him. He felt like velvet over steel, a fascinating combination. She wanted to spend a long time learning all about his body, what made him gasp with pleasure and what brought him to his knees. What put that sexy, heated glitter in his gold eyes.

She’d read about sex, and she’d certainly fantasized, but she hadn’t considered being with any of the men she’d grown up with. This man with his rock hard body, the blazing heat in his eyes and passionate nature was everything she’d imagined. Her body felt hot and needy, her skin so sensitive that the thin shirt hurt. She felt hungry for him, starved to know the taste and feel of him. She wanted to make her own claim on him.

She hadn’t thought of herself as a jealous woman, but the thought of another woman touching him made her want to claw with lethal intent. She wanted to be the one to please him, to be the one he craved with the same intensity she craved him. The need came in waves, a hot rush through her veins pulsing through her feminine core. The deep urgent desire was not entirely brought on by her leopard, although she understood the feline much better than she had.

Drake Donovan was the sexiest man she’d ever encountered and the chemistry between them was off the charts. There was no resisting the terrible urgency in her body. Without thinking, she bent her head to taste that silky drop, her tongue curling around the broad head. He jerked in her fist, swelled more. A growl rumbled in his chest and she licked with small delicate strokes, smiling when she was rewarded with hot pulses.