“I want to not have a child. Believe me, one is enough.”
“Then why in the names of all the goddesses do you want me to—” He cut himself off, expression clearing. “Ah. I believe we have a cultural misunderstanding. I forgot that humans don’t require fertility rituals to conceive.”
Cathy processed this. “You mean fae women don’t have unwanted pregnancies?”
He cocked an eyebrow at her. “It’s fairly difficult to do a three day ritual involving a sacred bath and a sweat lodge by accident.”
“I’m not fae, though.”
“No, but I am.” The eyebrow climbed higher. “And, believe me, the male version of the fertility ritual requires significantly more time and pain. The goddesses ensure that no fae becomes a father until he thoroughly appreciates what his mate will have to endure.”
Cathy let out a relieved sigh, letting herself lean against him once more. “So you can’t get me pregnant?”
“No.” Aodhan trailed a line of kisses along her jaw. “And to forestall the next obvious question, we don’t have diseases that can be transmitted that way, either. Is there anything else you want to discuss?”
If there were, she couldn’t think of them. Not with his mouth at her neck, teeth and tongue setting her on fire.
“No,” she gasped, tilting her head back as pleasure shuddered through her. “I think—ah!—I think that’s everything.”
“In that case…” His hands skimmed her curves, moving down to the tie of her dressing gown. “May I take this off?”
She fisted her hands in the front of his robes, jerking impatiently at the fabric. “You first.”
Cathy had a sudden stab of worry that she’d been too bold, too demanding—but his mouth curved upward. With a parting kiss, he stepped backward, just far enough to have space to shrug out of his robes.
As the brown fabric fell away from his chest, Cathy couldn’t repress a sound of pure appreciation. Aodhan’s eyes gleamed down at her.
“Seems all those months poring over anatomy textbooks weren’t wasted,” he murmured. His hand went to the fastening at the waistband of his close-fitting trousers, then hesitated. “Should I continue?”
“Yes,” Cathy breathed, her pulse thundering in her veins. “Please.”
He kicked off his boots, then unfastened his pants. Cathy sucked in her breath as his length sprang free.
Oh. Oh God.
Catching her agog stare, Aodhan looked down at himself, frowning. “I thought there were no significant differences between human and fae anatomy in this particular area. Is there a compatibility issue?”
“N-no,” Cathy managed, still unable to drag her gaze upward. “Just, uh… you said you studied anatomy textbooks?”
“A great many. I am sure they can’t all have been inaccurate.”
She moistened her lips. “Did they include measurements?”
“Yes, of course.” Aodhan’s eyebrows drew together, his frown deepening. “Though they seemed ludicrously undersized, given the proportions of the rest of the male form. I took the liberty of making some adjustments.”
“Yes,” Cathy said faintly. “I can see that.”
He was starting to look worried. “Would you prefer more modest dimensions? I’d need my notebooks and workshop to adjust my transformation spell. If you’d rather stop—”
“No!” Cathy yelped. “Definitely not. I may just, uh, need us to take things slowly, okay?”
The glint returned to his eye. He reached out, drawing a finger over her wrist with maddening leisure.
“I,” he breathed, tracing the looping golden lines of the magical bond, “was intending to be very slow.”
Need pounded through her. “Maybe not that slow.”
He chuckled, capturing her mouth for another kiss. She melted against him, feeling all the hard lines of his body. Only the thin linen of her dressing gown separated her skin from his.