Dakota whimpers. “Okay, I’m sold.”
She sets the shirt aside and puts her palms on my chest again, her breathing speeding up.
“I haven’t done this in ages,” she says. “I’m so nervous.”
“No ner-vus,” I tell her, lifting her wrist and kissing the soft inside of it. “Murr here. Murr protect.”
“I know.” Her voice is a mere breath. Her hand slides back down my stomach, towards the loin wrap again. “You always take care of me.”
I always will, too. I kiss her again, my fangs pulsing with the delicious, aching heat. The need to bite her urges again, but I want to savor this moment. I finally have my mate in my arms, and this time she is truly going to be my mate. Each moment needs to last forever, so I can fill my mind with the memories of this to plug the empty spots. I stroke my hand down her side, then back to her breasts.
And tug on the stretchy pink material that covers her. “What this?”
“It’s a bra. A sports bra.”
The material feels almost rubbery and bounces back when I pull on it. “Explain.”
“It holds my breasts in place.”
That sounds like a mate’s job. “Murr want hold. Yes?”
She laughs…but her laughter dies when I boldly cup one of her breasts, running my thumb over the tip. It stiffens against my touch, and Dakota’s breathing speeds up.
CHAPTER 62
MURR
The sounds Dakotamakes when I touch her breasts are incredible. Her scent is everywhere, full of arousal and need, but still smelling uniquely like her—human. My fangs throb again, instinct reminding me that when I give her my bite, our scents will mix.
She will smell like she belongs tome.
The thought makes me growl with need. I bury my face in her breasts, pushing aside the strange band she calls a “sports bra” and reveling in her flesh. Her breasts are perfect, small handfuls with tight tips, and her skin is so soft that I rub my face against them, fascinated. I need these loose and free every day so I can touch her constantly.
Dakota moans, dragging my head towards the tip of one breast and arching her back to offer it to me. I mouth her nipple, waiting for her reaction. She makes another one of those delightful sounds, and I cup one breast in my hand as I nibble on the other.
Definitely need more of this.
Her hands move over me, frantic to share in the pleasure. She tugs aside the kilt and reaches for my cock, then immediately draws back with a hiss.
The pleasure bubble bursts. I watch as she blows on her hand as if to cool it.
“God, you’re hot,” she says, a confused look on her face. “Why is your pre-cum boiling hot?”
I’d forgotten that our temperatures are so different. Her skin feels cool to me at all times, but I didn’t think mine would be unpleasantly warm for her. It’s another reason to give her the bite. I will share my fires and her temperature will change to match mine, to make her able to accept my body and my seed. How to tell her that without the touch of my mind to hers, though? “Bite…make good.”
She bites her lip, eyeing me. “You’re sure?”
I nod. “Bite…join us together. Murr blood, your blood. All good.”
Dakota thinks for a moment longer, then nods agreement. “I trust you.” She licks the now-cooling wetness from her hand and a strange expression crosses her face. “Why do you taste like cinnamon candy?”
I shrug, not knowing the words. “Bad?”
“The opposite of bad.” Her hand returns to my skin, playing at my thighs and hovering near my cock. She wants to touch me but holds back for fear of getting burned. She trails her hand back up my chest, then to my jaw. Dakota studies my face, stroking her thumb over my mouth. A moment later, she pushes her finger into my mouth, feeling my fangs. “When do I get your bite?”
Greedy. I like this. I lean in to kiss her again, and when I do, I reach for her waist, where the clothes are tightest, and tug on them. Dakota loosens the layers for me, and I sink my hand between her thighs, touching her where she’s hot and slick. Myclaws skim over her skin carefully, and this is another thing that must be modified. If I am to have a delicate, fragile human mate, my claws must go, because I need to touch her.
Need.
