"Of course I am," I say softly. "I'm your mate."
He groans and drops to his knees on the furs, then pulls me down with him. I slide against his big body, wrapping my arms around his neck as his mouth meets mine. We kiss hungrily, and it doesn't matter that I'm slightly sweaty and topless and one of my breasts is probably flattened into a pancake against his chest. He kisses me like I'm the only thing in the world that matters, and it suddenly makes me angry. Juth shouldn't be so surprised and moved when someone defends him. Everyone needs to realize how fucking amazing he is.
"You're a good man," I tell him between hungry kisses. "You're a strong hunter and a wonderful dad." I bite down lightly on his lower lip, because I know he loves the scrape of my teeth. "And you're an amazing lover. Never let anyone make you feel like you're not worth it. You are."
"This is why you courted me for so long?" he asks, his gaze reverent and full of so much emotion that it makes my heart hurt.
Courted? For so long? Does this seem like a long time to him? We mesh so well together sometimes it feels like he's always been mine, and I've always been his. Other times it feels so new that it's staggering. "Just know that I think you're the best man on the beach." I rake my nails lightly down his back. "The best kisser, the best dad, and absolutely the best at licking."
He slips a hand under my skirt, seeking out the heat between my thighs. "It is because my mate has such a tasty cunt. I cannot keep my mouth off of it."
I whimper as he claims my mouth in another scorching, claiming kiss, his tongue thrusting into my mouth in a way that leaves no doubt in my mind what he's thinking about. My body clenches around nothing, and it only increases the ache inside me. God, I want him, but I don't know how long we've got before dinner. "We need to be quick if we need to head back soon."
Juth doesn't answer me. He just kisses me again, and then cups my breasts in both his big hands and teases the nipples.
I moan, rubbing up against him when he coaxes the tips into points. "Maybe…" I breathe. "Maybe we have a bit more time."
He stares down at my breasts in fascination, his fingers moving over them. He always looks at me so intently, as if he has to study everything I react to in order to please me. It's like I'm the hardest test of his life and he's determined to ace it. I squirm a little as he caresses the underside of my breast, then grazes his fingers over a red mark left from the leather straps. "Why do you hide such glorious teats away?" he asks suddenly, surprising me. "Is it because you think I will not want the others to see them? Like my kilt?"
For once, all my composure deserts me. "Huh?"
Our eyes meet, and he rubs a maddening, enticing thumb across my nipple. "The male Ashtar told me I should wear a kilt because you would not like the other females staring at what belongs to you. That you are possessive of my body. Is that why you hide your teats away? You do not wish to show your beautiful body to the other males and make them jealous of me?"
Oh. That's a bizarre misunderstanding. Part of me wants to smack Ashtar for lying to him about why to wear a kilt over his loins, but then again, maybe in Ashtar's eyes, that's the truth? How do I explain human body shame to someone who thinks you only cover up when it's cold? I certainly don't want to teach that body shame to Pak, who loves to run around pants-less all day long, and I think it's cute because his little tail wags constantly. Do I tell Juth that the reason I bind my breasts so tightly is because I'm well aware that I'm a larger woman and flattening my chest not only stops things from bouncing, but it makes me look a little slimmer, a little more svelte under the thick furs we wear?
Looking up at his rugged face, full of alien planes and glowing blue eyes, I realize that to him, I am beautiful. I'm not short and dumpy. I'm not top-heavy or unimpressive. To him, I am glorious.
It's something I didn't know I needed to hear until just now.
"I wear it because everything shakes too much if I don't," I admit. "And because I've never liked them."
The look on his face is utterly incredulous. "Not like them? Why?"
"They're big—"
"So big," he breathes, his expression reverent as he gazes down at my boobs.