Page 93 of The Commander

“Get out of the truck. I want to fuck my mate.”

His words knocked all arguments right out of her. Well. That was the strange tension she’d felt. Her insides liquified with agreement. That happened to be something she would like too.

“My shoulder?” she asked as she swung her legs out. Moving it too much would bring the pain back and no one wanted that. The meds and nap had helped her considerably. She didn’t like pain.

“I can be careful. When I wish it.” He waited until she moved, instead of grabbing her. The patient action dissolved the last of her anxiety. That self-control ability of his pushed her attraction buttons in the most unexpected ways.

When she moved, he moved with her. Her legs wobbled. She reached out, braced herself against him. His shirt was gone. His pants. Everything.

“Your clothes?”

“I don’t have to wear them anymore. Never needed them.”

Of its own mind, her hand traced what she could reach of him. He had bones where he shouldn’t, what felt like extra tendons. Strength and power in every line. There had only been a couple of opportunities to touch him, and there were still things about him she had yet to understand.

He didn’t let her linger, drawing her away with a supportive arm around her waist. They went to the front of the truck. The light let her finally see his magnificent body, something she wasn’t sure she’d ever get accustomed to.

He was a demon, an impossible monster from legend. So tall that her nose bumped his chest, just above the rows and rows of abdominal muscles. Strong enough to pick up a fully grown man and toss him like a stick. Gentling that strength, he pushed her back against the hood of the truck.

“Brace your arm,” he instructed, folding the other over her chest to hold it.

“Okay.”

He lowered himself down her body and knelt so that he could unfasten her pants.

“Bastian,” she whispered his name, overwhelmed. She wanted him. But this? The night? The hood of the truck? She had no idea what she was doing.

“I won’t hurt you, Kitten. Not unless you deserve it. Do you deserve it? Do you need to be punished?”

Lingering guilt made her want to say yes. But instead, she held back the words, not sure what he meant to do.

“No? Good. I don’t think so either,” Pushing her back on the truck, he removed her shoes and pants. She kicked her foot with a shiver caused by the cool night fanning over her bare skin.

“Steady now.” One broad hand stopped her from rolling, the other explored what he’d uncovered, smoothing over her goose pimples. “I’d love to keep you naked. Do you think that is possible? Can you build up a better tolerance to the elements?”

“No. I can’t. It helps that you are a walking heater. You are always so warm.”

“I get hotter when I’m in rut.”

“Rut?” She had no clue what that meant.

He lifted the hem of her coat and shirt, so that his breath steamed hot over her stomach and his lips could skim her bellybutton.“I run hot when I am producing the extra seed I need to fuck a child into my mate.”

“Oh, god. No. Don’t say that. Don’t make it sound sexy.”

“It is sexy.”

Something hot and firm flicked her. His tongue?

“No, it’s not. I can’t bring a baby into this world.” The whole sentence came out like a weak little whine when that wasn’t how she felt about it. She was terrified of the idea. This was a world where children weren’t just victims of circumstance. They were targets of misery.

She knew the risks of sex with him but hadn’t managed to get her mind wrapped around all the possibilities. She was trying not to think about that.

“What if it was a better world?” he asked, as he nuzzled in like he wanted to soak her into himself. The rough-gentle of his touches, his firm hands were as bad as his sexy voice.

She melted like good chocolate in the sun.

“No. Can’t,” she barely managed to answer the question.

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