Her cheek was pressed to his bare chest, tears dampening the tough skin as one hand cupped the back of her head, while the other ran comfortingly up and down her back.
“I have you, baby,” he was whispering roughly, rocking her just a little bit. “It’s okay, Gypsy, I have you.”
He had her?
Her breathing hitched as she fought to get a handle on herself, to stop the tears she hadn’t shed before now.
She wanted to push him away from her. She was angry with him, she remembered that. But she couldn’t make herself do it. No one had comforted her since Mark’s death. Not because her parents hadn’t wanted to, they had tried. Because she hadn’t deserved to escape the pain and the remembered terror.
Because her selfishness had caused Mark’s death, and she couldn’t let herself forget that.
But she had forgotten it.
“Let me go.” She couldn’t let him weaken her further, but neither could she force any real demand into her voice. Because the terror was still there, lodged inside her soul and burning through her memories. A fear that drove spikes of agony tearing through her because she couldn’t make it stop. She couldn’t make the guilt and pain of that long-ago decision to disobey her brother go away.
“It’s okay, baby,” Rule whispered, his caresses soothing, gentle, though his voice was that harsh rasp he used whenever his eyes began changing, when the animal side of his genetics began showing itself.
“I’m okay.” But she wasn’t. It had been years since she’d had the nightmare. Of course, it had been years since she had allowed herself to sleep deeply too.
Pushing at his chest, she tried to put some distance between them, tried to get away from the warmth of his body. Because she was suddenly no longer fighting the remnants of that nightmare. Now, she was trying to tell herself she should be fighting the arousal rising inside her. Not that her senses were paying any attention to her. They were in a free fall to ecstasy with no intention of slowing down.
She had to get a handle on this need for him, especially in light of what she had learned the day before. She had to think, to figure out what her mother was up to and how to keep it from backlashing on the woman who had already lost one child too many.
Besides, she couldn’t allow herself to depend on him, or to believe he’d never walk away again. He’d already walked away once.
And showered as though he’d dirtied himself with her.
Unfortunately, even remembering that wasn’t enough to dim the hunger driving her.
“Would you please just let me go?” There was no way she was going to force her body not to ache for him if he didn’t stop holding her as though she would break if he weren’t careful.
“Let you go? When I can sense your need?” he asked, that growly sound in his voice deepening to a wicked, sexual sound.
“Sense my need, huh?” Her fingers curled against his chest, feeling beneath her touch the superfine, all-but-invisible hair that covered his body. “Is that another word for smelling it?”
“When I say I scent it, it seems to upset you,” he murmured as his lips brushed against the bend of her neck and shoulder where he had bitten her the night before in the shower.
“How would you like it if I could smell every emotion or reaction you have?” she questioned him roughly, her breath catching as his tongue swiped over the little wound.
The pleasure that surged through her at the contact stole her breath. Like a thousand tiny, heated caresses over her flesh. Just hot enough to emphasize the pleasure and tighten the sexual tension already clenching with sharp strikes of sexual intensity at her womb while slickening the inner flesh of her pussy.