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And he had suspected that. Could he accept it? Could he get past the possessiveness that rose inside him like a sharp- toothed monster waiting to tear into any other man who even thought about touching her?
Zeke stared down at her, unwilling to delve too much into what he knew were deeply imbedded possessive traits. What was his belonged solely to him. He wasn’t a man that could or would share the woman he allowed fully into his life.
And to have Rogue, he would have to allow her fully into his life. There was no other answer. Some part of him, a part that clenched his chest and left him aching for her long into the night, warned him that fully in his life was exactly where he wanted her to be.
It was a problem he would have to tackle later. It was a worry that had gnawed at his mind far longer than he wanted to admit. It was one of the concerns that had held him back in the past years, that had kept him from taking what he knew he could convince Rogue to give him.
“I tried to stay away from you. ” He had to taste her flesh. Zeke lowered his head, his lips pressing beneath her jaw, right there, where the flesh was so tender, where her pulse beat erratically.
He licked at the flesh, felt her shiver. His teeth raked over it, and he needed more. The taste of her was incredible. The sound of her breath catching, the feel of her melting in his arms was addictive.
God, he needed her. The need was like a fever devouring his insides. He ached for her.
Ached clear to his soul for something he didn’t even know how to name.
Drawing back, his hand framed her neck, not threateningly, possessively.
“You’ll belong to me. ”
Rogue’s eyes widened, her heart raced. She had never seen this expression on a man’s face, in his eyes. Zeke was staring at her as though his look alone would brand her. The flesh was stretched tight over his cheekbones and lust made his eyes gleam with an intent that had her fighting to breathe.
She couldn’t let herself hope, but she couldn’t help but hope that she would mean more to him than his other lovers had. How could she let herself believe that? Wasn’t she the one who had sat and listened to several of those past lovers cry into their beers over him? Would she be next?
“You don’t mean that. ” Rogue shook her head slowly, hearing it in his voice, seeing the possessiveness in his eyes.
“Do you think I don’t mean it, Rogue?”
A shiver raced down her spine as his hand caressed down her throat to her collarbone, and she shivered in reaction. A reaction that was both physical as well as emotional.
Fingers and palm flat, he touched her completely; not an inch of his palm didn’t touch her.
Swallowing tightly, she felt sensation wash over her. His voice stroking her senses, his hand on her flesh, sensitizing her, reminding her of the pleasure of his kiss, his touch.
Reminding her of all the fantasies, the dreams she’d had of this man.
Anticipation and excitement had her shaking. Her heart raced out of control, and she even hoped, though she knew better than to allow herself that commodity. She hoped, maybe, he would care for her, just a little. That the emotions that rose inside her whenever she thought of him, saw him, would be returned in some small measure.
She couldn’t resist allowing her head to fall back to the wall as his fingers, his hand, slid to the rise of her breasts, revealed by the violet lace that peeked over the top of the deeply cut vest.
“Leather and lace. ” The words were grating, rasping from his throat with primitive arousal. “Do you know what that does to a man?”
She licked her lips slowly, aching for more of him. “Maybe it just does it to you. ”
He shook his head slowly, his fingers flicking the first button of the vest open. “Not just me, baby. Every man that sees you lusts for you. It’s in his face, in his eyes. That lace peeking over the leather. It makes a man want to tame you. ”
The second button slid open. Then the third, second by second the snug material of the butter-soft leather vest loosened until the edges hung open and the lacy camisole was revealed and another part of her resistance fell away.
She wore no bra. Her breasts swelled, her nipples hardening further beneath his gaze as he brushed the edges of the vest aside.
“Last chance,” he said, his voice soft, deep. “Tell me to leave, Rogue. If I stay, you don’t know the things I’ll ask of you. ”
“Maybe. ” She swallowed tightly as she fought to breathe. “Maybe you should be the one to make that decision, Zeke. I’m not a child. And never imagine I don’t know what I want. ”
She wanted all of him. She wanted that assurance in his eyes that the wildness rising inside her would be harnessed, would be satiated. She wanted the heat rising inside her quenched. She wanted to experience the wild hunger and need she glimpsed in his eyes.
That hunger poured through her when his lips lowered to hers. They covered hers, his tongue pressing past them as he stole her breath. Nothing had ever made her more aware of the restlessness, the wildness that filled her than this kiss. The feel of his lips stroking over hers, the pleasure cascading through her body, rushing through her veins.
Hard, calloused palms cupped her breasts; confident, knowing fingers raked over her nipples. Pleasure shot from the tender tips to scatter over her nerve endings. Like tiny implosions, a rush of sensation that had her gasping and arching closer to the warmth of his hands. This was incredible. Oh God, how had she waited so long for his touch?
