He watched as her face flushed a delicate, rosy hue. Her green eyes flashed with undisguised desire, and slowly, temptingly, his senses filled with the sweet, spicy scent of feminine need.
She was losing control--over her body, at least. He could sense the sensual weakening, feel it rushing through him as it simultaneously pulsed through her body.
He had to clench his teeth, force back the claws determined to push free and hold back a growl of hunger that he feared could terrify them both.
"It's a conversation I want to have though," he assured her. "I want to know what you thought about, Rachel. Who was in your imagination when you came? Who was taking you as your body arched and your breath caught in pleasure?"
A fine shudder raced through her. Any other man would have missed it. Most Breeds would have missed it. But Jonas felt it. He swore he could feel the vibrations as the sensation tore through her body.
His cock was so damned hard he swore it was in danger of bursting. His balls drew up tight to the base, blood pulsed and shuddered through the heavy shaft.
In his entire life he had never wanted, never ached for anything as he did this woman, his mate.
His woman.
Nature had created her for him alone. God had gifted him, and holding himself back from her was the hardest thing he had ever done in his entire life.
"Please don't." The plea in her voice was heavy with her own battle to deny him.
" 'Please don't,' " he murmured. "Such a delicate little plea for something we both want so desperately. Tell me, Rachel, how much longer do you think we can continue to deny it?"
He wasn't going to make it long. The taste of the hormone filled his senses, dug sharpened claws into his control and shredded it further.
"As long as we have to." She breathed in hard, deep. "I don't need a mate, Jonas. I don't need a man, period. I want my life back, and I'm certain you do as well. Giving in to this is only going to complicate both our lives."
"You think you can walk away then?" The animal instincts that were so much a part of him roared out in denial. He would never, ever allow her to walk away from him.
"I know I can." In her eyes he saw her belief in that statement. "I have no choice, Jonas. Neither do you. When this is over, Amber and I will leave. So I would suggest looking for a new assistant while you can."
He was in her face. Even before he realized it, he leaned forward, his palms flat at the sides of her seat, his nose almost touching hers, his eyes locked with hers.
"Never." The rumble of sound that tore from his throat bore little resemblance to the voice of a man. "I'll never let you go."
"And I won't allow you to hold me. Tell me, do you truly want a mate who wants nothing more than to escape?"
"If that's the only way I can have you, then I'll take it and be content," he promised her with a snarl. "Think about that, Rachel. Believe it.
Keep pushing this, keep pushing me, and I'll show exactly how easy it will be to hold you."
Before he lost all semblance of the man he was, Jonas jerked back in his own seat and fought the need. God, he fought. He wanted to feel her against him. He was dying for her touch. Anything to ease the tightness in his flesh, the ache for the warmth of her touching him rather than reaching out for him.
He had lived through hell. He had been created to kill and to breed. Now, nature was pushing, demanding, overriding his control and creating a path he hadn't meant to take.
The plans he had made over the years were now falling by the wayside in favor of a life he had promised himself he wouldn't attempt to live.
Fate had stepped in, and Jonas could now only pray that she had some idea what the hell she was doing. Because he was damned if he knew.
CHAPTER 6
Her sister, Diana, had once told her that there was nothing worse than a determined man. Rachel hadn't clearly understood what she was talking about until she had seen the pure, undiluted determination in Jonas's gaze.
Seeing it wouldn't have been near so terrifying if the instant response that whipped through her body hadn't been so impossible to control.
And he'd known it. He'd sensed it. He'd scented the quick, rapid flow of moisture that filled her vagina, he'd glanced at her breasts to see the hardened tips of her nipples pressing against the thin material of the white blouse she wore.
Arousal--blazing, uncontrolled and rapid--had rushed through her, nearly breaking her own determination to deny the primal response she couldn't seem to control.
Thankfully, Jonas seemed wary of the edge they were suddenly skating on. He'd pulled back, remained silent and allowed her the chance to get her body, as well as her imagination, under control.