“Finn,” Martha repeated, smiling back. “It suits you. Well, Finn. I’m Martha.”
“Yes,” he whispered, all hungry intensity again. He bent down a little, locked on her as if nothing else existed in the whole world.
She darted her tongue over her lips. “And…I’m your mate.”
He was so close now, she could see herself reflected in the dark pools of his eyes. Nonetheless he hesitated, his mouth barely a breath away from hers.
“Martha.” The words sounded like they were being torn from his throat. “Do you truly want me?”
In answer, she closed the gap between them. The first touch of his lips on hers washed away any lingering doubts, filling her with certainty. This was right. With every part of her, body and mind and soul, she knew it.
He was her mate, and she was his. They were meant to be together. She wouldn’t deny it any longer.
His taut muscles were hard as iron under her palm, yet his lips were gentle on hers. The unexpected softness of the kiss made her close her eyes, surrendering to the sweetness singing through her soul.
Oh, this man, this man.
My man.
She wanted to taste him, but he pulled away as she tried to deepen the kiss. Opening her eyes, she started to ask him what was wrong, but he stopped her question with a finger across her lips. His expression was rigidly controlled, but she could feel the urgency of his desire where she pressed against his body.
“No more,” he growled, and her blood leaped at the barely-restrained feral edge to his voice. “Not here. But if you are sure…”
Too breathless for words, she nodded.
He didn’t need to be invited twice. She gasped as he swept her up, lifting her as if she weighed nothing at all. Holding her in one arm, he vaulted over the veranda, so smoothly that she didn’t even feel a bump. The instant his feet hit the ground, he was striding away, carrying her in the direction of the guest houses.
“No, wait,” she managed to gasp out, as she realized he was headed for her cottage. “Let’s go to yours.”
He shook his head with a quick, sharp motion, never breaking stride. “Yours is closer.”
“But-“
It was too late. He was already shouldering open the door, ducking his head to avoid hitting it on the lintel. Martha squirmed with embarrassment, hiding her face against his shoulder.
Oh, I should have cleaned up, I should at least have picked up my underwear-!
A strange, dry sound rattled deep in the Master Shark’s—no, in Finn’s chest. It took her a second to realize that he was laughing.
“I hope,” he murmured in her ear, “that this means you were expecting me.”
She risked a peek. There was no sign of the earlier chaos. Her clothes and scattered toiletries had been whisked out of sight, as if by magic. The rustic floorboards gleamed in the soft, romantic light of a few scattered candles, safely contained within tall glass jars. A fresh flower arrangement of jasmine and amaryllis perfumed the air. The bed had been made up with crisp white linens, and someone had scattered handfuls of rose petals across it.
“That Magnolia.” Martha shook her head, half-touched, half-exasperated. “I told her not to bother the staff.”
Finn made that hoarse, almost silent laugh again. His mouth was still set in its usual harsh line, but his eyes gleamed. “I am glad that she did.”
Martha had to admit to herself, she was too. Still, the unmistakably bridal appearance of the bedroom made her feel suddenly shy. It had been so long since she’d been with a man, and she was no spring chicken. What if she disappointed him?
“Martha.” There was an odd catch to Finn’s voice, a slight note of hesitancy that she’d never heard before. The amusement had faded from his face. “I am a shark.”
“Yes?” She blinked at him, confused. “So?”
He took a deep breath, tilting his head to indicate the gentle, romantic setting. “This is not…not in my nature. But if you desire softness…I will try.”
Her own fears fled in the face of the raw vulnerability in his eyes. She slid down out of his arms, pressing herself fiercely against his body.
“I desire you,” she said. Deliberately, she dug her nails into his muscled back. “Just as you are.”