Page 42 of Needed in the Night
The moment my fingertips touched that sweet liquid, every other thought evaporated but one:my Isla.
In my soul, my primal, beastly hunger for my true mate raised its head and roared.
CHAPTER 15
ISLA
As Mikas’sfingertips grazed the delicate skin of my inner thigh and the edge of my underwear, his vertical pupils suddenly dilated, turning his eyes all black.
In a blink I was on my back beneath him, the back of my head cradled by his enormous hand. As inhumanly fast as he’d moved, he’d made sure I didn’t hit the floor, and he braced himself with his other hand so he didn’t crush me with his weight.
He ran his nose along my hairline, down the side of my neck, and across my collarbone, growling low, his claws and teeth bared in a way that made me arch up against him.
I felt no fear at all. This,finally, was Mikas. Not the reserved, grumpy man he’d pretended to be as long as I’d known him, but the real Fortusian male who’d found his true mate and wanted her with all his hearts and soul. And body too, if the hard heat pressed against my thigh was any indication.
Simply touching me between my legs had done more thanignite something within him; it had uncaged him. And I would be lying if I said it hadn’t uncaged something in me too.
Pallasian bosors were one of the apex predators of the taiga regions of that planet. Their DNA had no doubt helped make Mikas a fearsome soldier. And as a mate, he would be primal. The thought sent a crashing wave of desire through me, and I felt myself dripping for him already.
How he’d restrained himself for so long, I had no idea, unless Nubo had made explicit threats against me if Mikas acted on his desires. The bastard. I hated him so much more now knowing he’d kept us apart.
I ran my fingers through Mikas’s thick hair and held him still so I could look into his pitch-black eyes. His body quaked and the claws of his hand that wasn’t holding my head scraped on the floor.
“Isla,” he grated. “You are my world.”
I drew him down for a kiss, then nipped his chin lightly with my teeth. “Show me.”
In a flash he moved down my body, pushing my dress up to my waist. I brushed his hands aside and sat up to pull it off over my head. As much as I wanted him, I had enough ability to think rationally to make sure I had intact clothing for when we left the shop.
He knelt between my knees as his gaze caressed me, traveling from my face down to my breasts, over my abdomen, between my thighs, and back up. I found myself caught between self-consciousness while he studied every inch of me as if committing my body to memory and my own desire to look him over in the same way.
When I reached for my arm sheath, he caught my hand and kissed my fingers. “Leave it be,” he rasped.
Did my skills with a blade arouse him? If so, I liked that very much. I’d met my share of insecure males who found fierce women intimidating. But if it was true that to be mates we mustresonate with each other in every way, then of course he would find my ability to fight appealing. His erection showed clearly through the fabric of his pants. I licked my lips.
I used to curse fate very frequently. But if fate had brought us together, then it had done very well by me in the end.
“You are glorious.” His eyes gleamed. “A dream.”
“Not a dream.” I eyed his shirt. “How do I remove this?”
He unfastened the collar, separated the front of the shirt along the seam, and slid it off over his shoulders and spines with practiced ease.
I’d seen his bare chest many times—more times than any other person’s chest in my lifetime, in fact. But never like this, as a lover.
And I’d certainly never been able to explore the contours of his hot flesh. I ran my hands over the hard lines of his pectoral and abdominal muscles, brushed my fingertips across his pierced nipples, and down to the taut skin just above his groin.
Because his claws aroused me so much, I scraped my nails down his chest. They didn’t do so much as scratch his skin, but judging by the way he rumbled and the heat and throbbing hardness against my thigh, he enjoyed the sensation very much.
“I want to see all of you,” I rasped. “Touch you. Taste you.”
“You will.” The growly edge in his voice made me shiver hard with need. “But first, I will make you call my name. I have dreamed of hearing it.”
Imagining myself writhing under him—or on top of him, or with his face between my legs—elicited a gush of wetness from my pussy.
Despite his obvious arousal, he took his time. His fingertips traveled over my shoulders and along my collarbone, caressing and exploring. Parts of my body I’d never considered sensual came alive at his touch, sending quivers of need sizzlingthrough me.
He cupped my breasts, which had never seemed small until they rested in his hands.
