“Saban, there are no guarantees in life,” she snapped, frustrated, feeling the pressure his certainty
brought her. “I just walked out of a marriage that nearly destroyed me with one controlling man. I don’t need to jump out of the frying pan into the fire.”
As the last word left her lips, heat bloomed in her womb, between her thighs. Her teeth clenched on the agonizing pleasure. It wasn’t pain. It was a need for pleasure, and it was sharp, intense, destructive to her self-control.
“I took the damned pills,” she groaned, wrapping her arms around her stomach, pressing, fighting against the clenching, spasming need that tore through it.
“The hormone in the kiss raises the arousal level,” he said softly. “The hormone in the male se**n eases it somewhat.”
He pushed her hair back from her face, his hard hands stroking pure pleasure along the sides of her face.
“I suspected.” She shook her head. “The tabloid stories, all those silly articles. When I came to Sanctuary and met Callan and Merinus, I suspected parts of them were true.”
And she had been intrigued, curious about the Breed who watched her with hungry eyes and pretended to be something, someone he wasn’t.
“Parts of them are true,” he agreed. “Let me ease you, Natalie. Let me take away the pain.”
His lips touched hers, a butterfly kiss that had her own lips parting and a breath of need escaping her lips.
“I’m going to regret this.” She knew she was.
Natalie opened her eyes and stared back at him, desperation, need, and fear roiling together inside her.
“I can’t handle shackles, Saban. I can’t be controlled.” The fear of it was ripping through her mind, destroying the balance she had found after her divorce.
Because she was being controlled. By the mating hormone he had spilled into her system, by her own body, by needs she couldn’t deny because everything inside her was demanding his touch.
“I’ll call Ely,” he growled. “She can strengthen the pills.”
Natalie shook her head, her hands jerking up to cover his as he moved to straighten away from her.
“Touch me. Just touch me.” She could feel the perspiration pouring from her face now, the weakness invading her body. “Saban, this is worse than she predicted. Oh God, this is bad.”
Dr. Ely Morrey had explained what she could expect in the first stage of the mating heat. But she’d said it only got worse after mates had sex that first time. Before that, the arousal would stay steady, a little uncomfortable, until she and Saban actually had sex.
If it was worse than this later, then she didn’t know if she would survive it. She stared back at Saban, seeing the agony in his eyes, the knowledge that he hadn’t expected this either.
“ Cher , Natalie.” His thumbs smoothed over her cheeks. “Go inside, away from me. I’ll finish this meal for you. You can eat.”
She shook her head.
“If we stay out here, bébé , we’ll end up f**king out here.” He was breathing hard, his chest moving fast and hard as his hands tightened around her face. “The scent of your arousal is making me insane. My control is thin enough as it is.”
She licked her lips nervously. “Come in with me.”
The fact that she had made the decision, that she was actually considering having sex with him at this point shouldn’t have surprised her, but it did. This arousal wasn’t painful, not in the sense of levels or degrees of pain. Instead, it was imperative, desperate; her skin was crawling with the need to be touched, her mouth watering for the taste of him.
“Go in,” he said tightly. “I’ll bring the food back in and come to you.”
She shook her head.
“Get away from me, Natalie,” he snarled, jerking to his feet, surprising her with his vehemence. “Go inside. Five minutes. Give yourself five minutes away from me, make certain without me that your wisest choice isn’t to call Ely first.”
“You started this.” She jumped from the chair and faced him, anger rising inside her, pounding through her blood and spearing through her senses as it strengthened along with the lust. “You shot this freaky hormone into my system; now you can take care of it.”
If she could just get past the need, just for a few minutes, just long enough to think again, then she could figure it out. But she knew, until he touched her, until he took her, there wasn’t going to be a clear thought in her head.
A growl rumbled in his throat. “It’s too strong right now,” he grated. “I won’t take you easy.”
“If you tried to take me easy, I might have to kill you,” she raged back, her hands fisting in his shirt as she felt the flames of need licking over her flesh. “Saban, please, just touch me. Do something, anything so I can think.”
“So you can figure a way out of this?” Bitterness filled his voice, but he was touching her, easing her backward into the house, the steaks forgotten.
“So I can figure out how to handle this.” Maybe she was accepting there was no way out of it, but she didn’t accept what she knew was coming from it.
She liked Saban. She hadn’t realized how much she liked him until she had to think about it, had to categorize the relationship that had developed. She cared for him. She would miss him, God, miss him so bad if he wasn’t here, but she didn’t love him. She didn’t want to love him. And she didn’t want to be controlled by him or some damned hormonal aphrodisiac.
The door locked behind him, and Natalie found herself lifted against him, his arms like steel bands around her as his kiss became a tease. He licked and nibbled at her lips, giving her just a taste of the spicy, storm-laden essence of his kiss. He made her crave more. Made her moan, her arms tighten around his neck, her tongue dip past his lips to taste more of him.
“We won’t make it to the bedroom if you keep this up,” he warned her, his voice dark, rough, a growling rasp that sent a shiver racing through her as one hand pushed beneath the elastic band of her pants to cup the curve of her cheek.
“So?” She didn’t care.
As he held her against him, her hands slid from around his neck to the buttons of his shirt. She wanted to feel him, wanted to touch him. The weeks he had followed her through the house that image had played out in her mind. Turning, ripping the buttons free and jerking the material from his body before rubbing against him like a cat. Like he had a habit of rubbing against her every chance he had. She wanted him. She didn’t have to fight that want now; something had forced her into it, taken the choice out of her hands, and she suddenly wondered if that wasn’t a good thing. Would she have ever gone after the powerful, sexual beast this man was on her own?