That shouldn’t have felt like victory.
But it did.
Near the top of the rise, she stopped beneath a tree heavy with gold fruit and reached up. She couldn’t quite get it.
I could have let her try longer. Instead, I plucked the fruit and set it in her hand.
She smiled at me, and I forgot what I had meant to do next.
Then she bit into it. Juice gathered at the corner of her mouth. A bead of sap clung to her lower lip.
I lifted my hand.
Slowly.
She watched me. Her eyes widened, but she did not flinch. She didn’t move away.
I brushed my thumb over her lip and wiped the sweetness away. Her skin was soft. That was all it took.
My body reacted like the touch was a command. Heat punched through me, hard and sudden, and I locked every muscle to keep from pulling her against me.
Maisie looked up. The wariness was still there. Buried, but not gone.
So was something else.
Need.
Not mine.
Hers.
That was the only warning I got before she rose onto her toes, fisted one hand in my flannel, and pressed her mouth to mine.
For half a breath, I let her have the kiss.
Then my control snapped.
I caught her against me, one arm around her back, my other hand at her thigh. She weighed almost nothing. I lifted her and turned, pressing her gently against the trunk of the fig tree so the bark would not scrape her back.
Her mouth opened beneath mine. The sound she made was small and desperate, and nearly ended me. Her hands went intomy hair. Down my neck. Then her fingers found the base of one horn.
Pleasure hit bright and vicious.
I growled into her mouth.
The rut rose hard.
Too hard.
My hips pinned hers. My teeth grazed her lower lip, and she arched against me like she wanted more. Every instinct I had turned simple and violent.
Take.
Claim.
Mate.
Mine.
