Page 40 of Tamhas

“Are you really all right with being here?” he asked. “Because I want you to be here. I need you to know that.”

“You do?”

“Yes. This isn’t just a last-minute way to get Alan to agree to keeping you out of a cell.” He pulled far enough away to look down into my eyes. “I want you here. I want you. For as long as I can have you. The rest of both of our lives.”

“Do you know what you’re saying? You know you don’t have to go that far just to get me to stay, right? Don’t feel like you have to offer me the rest of our lives together, just so I won’t try to escape.”

His expression darkened. “Is that what you think this is? All a ruse to keep you here? As a prisoner?”

“I don’t think of myself as a prisoner—”

“But you think I want to keep you from escaping.”

I wondered if he knew the gold ring around his irises seemed to glow brighter when he was angry or upset.

“Which makes it sound as though you’re a prisoner.”

“You have to keep me here to keep things even keel. I get that. You promised to keep watch on me. It’s just what you have to do.”

He let out a huge sigh. “But I want you. Yourself. Here. In this room, in my arms, in my bed. As my woman. My mate. And that has nothing to do with keeping things even-keel in the clan. Not even the first thing. I couldn’t care less what Alan thinks, so long as you’re happy.”

“I just want to be with you. That will make me happy.”

“You’re certain? Here? Not back at home?”

Emelie’s face floated up to the front of my mind, and that made my heart ache a little, but that wasn’t his fault. I’d have to come to terms with that on my own.

I knew there was a chance I wouldn’t go back, didn’t I?

Why hadn’t I bought a return ticket?

I nodded firmly, smiling. “I want you, Tamhas. How could I not?”

Instead of saying another word, he lowered his head to cover my mouth with his. All I could do was hold onto the back of his head, letting my fingers tangle in his thick, soft hair as he kissed me harder and more thoroughly than I’d ever been kissed before.

Why not? He’d had the practice.

I let my head fall back against his arm as the kiss deepened, his tongue prying my lips open and slowly, torturously slowly, exploring in the inside of my mouth. My fingers curled into his flesh, passion already flaring up deep in my core and flooding me with a burning, aching need to be taken. Oh, my God, did I want him to take me.

There was nothing in the world but him. His taste—sweet, warm—and his scent—musky, masculine, a little spicy—and the strength of his arms, like steel bands around me. I let my hands trail over his shoulders, his back, impossibly large and thick with muscle that moved under his skin, promising so much.

When he growled, low and deep in the back of his throat, I shivered in response and slid my hands under his shirt to touch his bare skin. So smooth, soft, perfect for running my nails along. He growled again, louder, his arms tightening.

I felt myself giving control over to him, something I never did. It was a thrill like I had never felt before, trusting and knowing he was worthy of trust.

I had to pull my mouth away to get some air, which meant he could trail hot kisses down my throat. I gasped, pulling him closer, panting for breath which his hands slid down my back and cupped either side of my butt.

When he pulled me in, almost slamming me against him and the growing hardness between us, I just about sobbed in desperation. It was going to happen, and it was supposed to happen. Whatever was different about me was reaching out to whatever was different about him, seeking the connection we both needed.

He walked me back to the bed, guiding me even as his mouth took possession of any bare skin he could reach, and he lowered me gently to that silky bedspread and undressed me without breaking eye contact.

I watched him, stared up into those strange eyes I already loved so much, aware of the touch of his hands as he slid them over me. So firm, so tender. Worshipful, even. Taking in the curves of my hips as he worked my pants down, then my panties. Gliding over my torso and my breasts as he peeled off my tank top and bra.

Goosebumps rose over my skin as he took me in, his eyes going over every inch as his hands closed into tight fists. His breathing was harder than ever—just like the bulging erection in his pants.

“I want to see you,” I whispered.

No sense in being the only one undressed. He was much quicker with his undressing than he was with mine, shucking off his clothes and throwing them on the floor. He was perfect—my mouth watered at the sight of his chiseled abs, bulging chest, not an ounce of fat to be seen. All muscle. All mine.

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