His voice was the barest whisper, warm against her fingertips. “I am not.”
She leaned in. The kiss was sweet and soft, but she could feel the barely-restrained hunger behind it. There was a matching hunger building in her own body, hot and liquid. Under her palms, the muscles of his chest were rigid, shaking with tension.
“Cuan,” she breathed. “Ask me.”
His fingers twisted in her hair. He pulled her head back, just a bit, and heat surged between her thighs. His faemarks were alight with blue fire now. His wolf-gold eyes burned even brighter, shining with joy…and something else. Something fiercer, more primal, that made her shudder with delicious anticipation.
“Tamsin,” he said, in that deep, deep growl. “Be my mate.”
“Yes, yes!” She tried to press herself to him, but he still had a grip on her hair. “Oh yes, Cuan, yes.”
“Now?” He leaned closer, those burning eyes filling her world. “Now, and forever?”
“Yes!” Damn it, if he tried to turn this into some kind of lengthy, earnest discussion to establish mutual desire and consent… “Now, Cuan!”
Thankfully, he did not need further assurances. Which was just as well, since Tamsin felt about ready to explode.
A deep, wordless growl ripped from his throat. He scooped her up, effortlessly, so that she was straddling his lap. She pressed herself against him, kissing him, with the same frantic urgency that he kissed her.
Tamsin slid her hands downward, glorying in every taut line of his torso. The faemarks on his chest glowed through his shirt. She tugged impatiently at the fabric, wishing that she had the strength to just rip it off his body.
Cuan, bless him, didn’t need prompting. He broke the kiss just long enough to yank his shirt over his head. She greedily drank in the sight of him—all that gorgeous bronzed muscle, all that man.
All hers.
The sight only made her more desperate. She rocked against him, her breath coming in helpless gasps. He arced up, hands tight on her hips, grinding in just the right spot. Pleasure sparked through her, bright as his faemarks…but it still wasn’t enough.
Their clothes were a maddening barrier between them. She fumbled at his leather leggings, baffled by the complex system of straps and buckles that fastened them around his waist.
Damn it, I’m going to have to get this man some jeans.
“Take these off,” she mumbled into his mouth. “Take these off now.”
“Not here.” His hands slid under her backside. He stood up, taking her with him, supporting her whole weight without the slightest sign of strain. “Your bed.”
“Oh yes,” she sighed, recognizing the perfection of it. “Yes.”
Cuan carried her up to the bedroom—a slow process, that involved much kissing, and also quite a bit of muttered swearing and muffled laughter. Her crooked, oak-beamed, two-hundred-year-old cottage had not really been designed for towering faerie warriors, especially not ones carrying full-grown, giggling women.
He managed to get her to the bed at last. By silent agreement, they both stripped off their own clothes. There was a time and a place for slowly undressing one’s lover, and this was definitely not it.
In record time, Tamsin was naked on the bed. She stretched out, glorying in the sight of Cuan here, in her most private, personal sanctuary. He should have looked alien, outlandish, amidst her comfortable furnishings. But he stood there, huge and sculpted and dangerous, with glowing eyes and pointed ears and magic sparkling across his skin…and he wasn’t out of place at all.
This was exactly where he belonged. Where both of them belonged.
She beckoned to him, smiling, spreading her legs.
He came down to her. She wrapped her arms around him, holding him tight, welcoming him home.
He murmured her name, over and over, as he trailed kisses across her skin. He worshipped every inch of her, until her hands were fisted in the sheets, her back arcing up. Once, twice, she shattered under those strong hands, and each time he gathered her up and began all over again.
There was no need to rush. They had all the time in the world.
At last he positioned himself over her, braced on shaking arms. His long, dark hair hung down, wet with sweat, tangled by her hands. His faemarks burned around his intent, hungry eyes.
“All that I am, I give to you,” he said hoarsely. “I am yours, forever, always.”
“All that I am, I give to you,” she echoed. She reached up, tracing his glowing faemarks, joy singing through her. “I am yours. Forever, and always.”