She nearly forgot her question. “If all Ilinas are female, how do they reproduce without creating half-breeds?”
His palm rose, his fingers stroking the inside of her thigh, making her pulse race and her body overheat.
“They reproduce as needed through magic. And ritual.”
A single finger stroked the damp silk of her panties and the ultrasensitive flesh beneath.
Her legs buckled at the intense shot of pure pleasure.
Zeeland caught her tight against him. “You’re soaked.”
Her face flamed. “I can’t help it. Don’t make fun of me, Zee. Not now. Not over this.”
He growled low, an intensely satisfied sound. “I wouldn’t dream of making fun of you, sweetheart. Ever. Your wetness is what tells me you’re ready for me. Or getting there. It’s exactly what I’d hoped to find.”
“Oh.”
He laughed and nipped her ear as he slid his finger back to her thigh, then slid it under the edge of her panties. The touch of his bare finger against her heated flesh made her cry out.
“You’re so wet. So perfect.” He stroked her flesh, sliding along the inner edge of the folds until she thought she would go insane with wanting…more.
“Zeeland, please. You’re just tormenting me now.”
He chuckled low. “Believe me when I say I share your pain, angel. I think we’ve both waited long enough.”
He turned her around to face him, then grabbed the hem of her dress and pulled it up and over her head, dropping it on the floor and leaving her standing in nothing but her panties and heels.
His gaze moved over her slowly, his dark eyes gleaming with appreciation. With a quick move, he swung her into his arms and deposited her in the middle of the four-poster bed. She wasted no time. While he stripped off his sweater, she sat up and removed her strappy red sandals, one after the other. Her gaze drank in the play of muscles across Zee’s chest as he unfastened his belt and shucked off his pants.
As he came to her, naked and fully aroused, she was certain he must be the most beautiful man who’d ever lived. He looked at her, meeting her gaze, soft adoration in his eyes.
Her heart contracted. “Zeeland. If I turn into a ghost…” She swallowed the lump of dread wedging itself in her throat. “Don’t freak out. Please?”
He stretched out beside her pulling her down until she lay lengthwise on top of him, looking down into his face. His erection lay between them, their bodies separated only by the tiny scrap of lace of her panties.
He reached up and stroked the hair back from her face. “We’ll handle it, Juli.”
She tried to be reassured, but now that they were naked, were so close to finally doing it, her fear began to get the better of her. “I don’t know if I can go through with this, Zee.”
He cupped her cheek. “It’ll be okay.”
“Once you see the real me, you may not want anything to do with me.”
His dark eyes softened. “I’ve already seen the real you, sweetheart. Inside and out. If you have a few extra gifts, I can deal with that.”
“You’ve run from me once.”
“That was different. You scared the crap out of me.”
She laughed, a sharp sound of playful outrage, but the words pinched. “Thanks a lot.”
He cupped her face in his hands, his expression utterly serious. “You still scare me, Julianne. Not what you are or might do when I make love to you. But the way I feel about you. How badly I need you.”
She stared into his eyes, longing to ask how he felt about her. But his hands slid down her bare back, burrowing inside her panties to cup her rear, and her thoughts fled on a moan.
“Sweet goddess, Julianne, I need you now.”
He rolled her beneath him and pulled off her panties with a single quick tug that told her he was on the very edge of control. The realization filled her with hot excitement.
In a frantic storm of pent-up passion, his hands touched her everywhere, his mouth kissed every inch of her flesh until she was feverish with need for release from the torment of desire that raged within her.
“Zeeland, come inside me. Please.”
His finger touched her as it had before, sliding along the inside edge of her folds. But this time it pressed deeper, and deeper still, until it could go no farther.
“Is that okay?” he asked, his voice tight as a bowstring.
“Don’t tease me, Zeeland,” she gasped. “It’s not enough.”
His chuckle was hoarse. “Not enough. It’s a damned good thing.”
With his knee, he spread her thighs, then positioned himself over her, his weight on his forearms, his gaze glued to hers.
“If I hurt you, tell me, Juli. I’ll stop.”