Craving the shelter of his arms and the rhythm of his blood flow, she climbed into his lap, straddled his marble hard thighs and nestled her hips against his groin. With hands splayed across his chest, she tried to speak the words he deserved to hear. The three words she wanted to say, but her throat shriveled and closed tight.
“You love me.” He pressed a kiss to her nose.
“I can’t love.” She wanted to. She really did.
“You love me.” A knowing smile sat smug and sure between deep dimples.
“Stop saying that.”
His hands were hot brands against her butt. “Remember when you asked about my eyes. Why they turn purple?”
“Yes. You never answered me.”
“They only do that when we’ve surrendered ourselves completely to the other. When mind, body and soul we’ve given ourselves to our mate.” He pulled her against his growing arousal.
“I don’t understand.”
“Love, Grayce. That’s love.”
“Zander.” She didn’t want to argue anymore. “I have no doubt that you feel that way. You’ve proved it time and time again.”
“Shut up. Let me finish.” He groaned and moved her to the floor, trapped her in a cage of flesh and bone.
“Grayce. You silly, stubborn, hot tempered little fool.” He ripped her shirt down the middle. “You love me.” He sucked a nipple between his teeth.
“Zander, please—” He silenced her with warm, moist lips. She writhed with lustful need beneath him and worked to free his erection from the evil denim holding it prisoner.
“Your eyes, Grayce. Your eyes turned purple. Right before you blew the shower door to the moon.”
He swallowed her gasp with another kiss. “Deny it all you want, but you love me.”