“Look at me.” It was a command, nothing less.

She lifted her lashes, her gaze jumping to his. Again her heart gave the same stutter and more liquid fire leaked into his palm. Her pulse pounded and her breasts ached. Her stomach tightened with coiling tension.

He lifted his palm to his mouth and licked at the cinnamon honey. “You taste delicious. Just like I knew you would. I want to eat you up, mon chaton féroce. Every drop is mine and I want it all.”

Her knees almost gave out. His face was stamped with a driving lust, a hard possession that only thrilled her more. He wrapped her in love, she felt that as well, but right now, this moment, she wanted the wolf, the wild, untamed wolf that looked at her just as Zev was doing. Glowing eyes, a fierce expression on his face. Domination in every line on his face and on his body.

There was something almost illicit about being naked there in the forest while he was clothed. She tried to keep her eyes on his, tried to keep her gaze from straying to his very hard erection, but it was difficult, a lesson in discipline.

“Do you understand what I want to do to you?” he asked, his voice low and so sexy she shivered with excitement. “What I’m going to do to you?”

“Yes,” she admitted, her voice not her own. Truthfully, she wasn’t all that certain of what he meant, but it didn’t matter. She was willing. Her body burned for his. “But, Zev, I have to be honest with you. I tried to do a crash course in how to please a man once I met you, but the information I have might not be very reliable. I looked it up on the Internet and it was all a little confusing. Diagrams and anatomy, which I understood but wasn’t certain how to implement.”

His eyes glowed at her, darkened with desire, and his slow, sexy smile was definitely wolfish. “You don’t need a crash course, Branka. I prefer to be your teacher. I want to teach you the things that will please me. I am looking forward to discovering the things you enjoy.”

As he spoke his large hands cupped her breasts. “You have such beautiful breasts.” His finger traced the ridged scar riding up one creamy slope. He bent his head to trail his tongue along that path. “Everything about you is beautiful, mon chaton féroce.”

His unblinking gaze stayed on her face, watching her reaction as he captured her nipples between his fingers, rolling and tugging until she could barely catch her breath. Her nipples seemed directly connected to her most intimate core, electrical shocks streaking through to her very center. He leaned down, still watching her face and sucked her right breast into the heat of his mouth.

She heard herself moan. A flash-fire ignited in her breasts, fueled by his hands and mouth, flames leaping into her belly, burning hot and wild. Zev switched to her left breast, using the edge of his teeth. The small flash of pain added to her heightened pleasure, to the madness rolling through her body. She couldn’t believe how much the scrape of his teeth and the stroke of his tongue combined with the heat of his mouth to drive her insane with need.

Her body definitely belonged to him. His hands moved possessively down her rib cage to her waist, his mouth following. Every muscle in her body melted under the blaze he created. She feared she wouldn’t be able to stand when he dropped to his knees in front of her. She rested one hand on his shoulder, needing the support, her body shaking with need.

The mist around them began to glow a strange golden red. Her body was hot—everywhere. Her hair gave off sparks, crackling with fire, the red deep and true. Streaks of gold leapt like flames dancing out of control through the silken mass of her braid.

His hands felt rough on her skin, a contrast to her own smooth skin. His expression, when she looked down at him, had gone feral, his wolf’s eyes hungry and focused, making her heart pump wildly and the tension in her feminine core coil tighter.

He swiped his tongue through her folds and she cried out, her hand going to his hair, fisting there as sensations poured through her body like fuel on a fire. She wasn’t certain either of them would survive the conflagration building in her like a volcano.

He began to lap at her like the hungry wolf he was, stealing every bit of cinnamon honey he could pull from her body. His hands were hard, holding her thighs apart, holding her hips still as he indulged his whim of devouring her. Her cries rose to a crescendo, but he didn’t stop. Her fist yanked at his hair, but his mouth was merciless. The fire built and built, raged and roared, but he refused to stop, taking her to the edge of some dark precipice, but never quite letting her fall over.

When she was certain she would go mad with need, when her pleas rang through the glowing mist, he took her to the soft grass, his clothes gone. He looked absolutely intimidating kneeling over her. She could barely breathe, barely think, her head tossing back and forth, her hips writhing and bucking.

He stroked her center with one long finger. Her body arched, her mouth opening in a silent scream. “I love how responsive you are, but hold still. I don’t want to lose all control until I know you’re ready for me.”

She was ready? Was he crazy? How much readier could she get? If he didn’t do something soon she was going to spontaneously combust.

This time he stroked a finger inside of her, sinking deep while her muscles clamped around him tightly. His breath hissed out. “So hot. That’s right, mon chaton féroce. Burn for me.”

How could she not? Only he could put out the fire he’d started and he wasn’t cooperating. A small sobbing gasp escaped as a second finger sank with the first, stretching her. Again the bite of pain added to the electrical charges streaking through her bloodstream, finding every bundle of nerves in her body and igniting them.

She whimpered when he removed his fingers, but a heartbeat later, they were back . . . Not his fingers this time. Her heart pounded as he began to push inside of her. He held her legs straight up into the air, kneeling between her thighs so her legs were spread wide, to more easily accommodate his invasion. He was unyielding as he entered her, not slowing, but a patient steady pressure, forcing her body to accept his. Her muscles fought him, but gave way as he continued that ceaseless forward pressure until he lodged against a barrier.

Zev gasped. Swore. “You’re so damned tight and hot.” He managed to get the words out between clenched teeth. He had to fight to keep from losing control. He needed another minute and she had to stay still. Her sheath was heaven, fiery silk, alive and scorching hot, surrounding him, gripping him tightly and stealing all discipline. He didn’t want to hurt her and ruin this moment for both of them.