Page 261 of Primal Bonds

He lapped at the swollen bud of flesh, his tongue warm and wet. Her thighs tensed. He nudged her legs apart so he could get deeper, swiping his tongue over her sex.

Her lungs jerked. With a moan, she grabbed the railing and locked her knees so she wouldn’t fall down.

But he only took a few teasing licks before moving his mouth up her body again. He gave a hard suck to each nipple, leaving them moist and aching, and then turned her around.

“Keep going.” He caressed her bottom.

She forced herself to focus. She was only three steps from the top. She took them a little clumsily, but Fane was right there to steady her. He put an arm around her, his long fingers spreading over her belly, his lower body pressed against her ass, the leather cool in an exciting way.

The second floor was narrower than the main floor. A slatted wood bed with matching end tables was at one end, and across the front wall was a row of four windows overlooking the ocean. A ladder-back chair was set next to a bookcase spilling over with books, and a red door led to a bathroom with black-and-white tiles and a clawfoot tub.

Fane opened a couple windows to let in the air while she drew down a pretty red-and-white quilt. She set her quartz on an end table and then sat on the bed as he toed off his shoes and tried to peel off the leather pants. They got stuck partway down his thighs, and she smothered a laugh.

He grinned back. “Damn leather. But the ladies seem to like it.”

“This lady sure does.” She watched as he sat on the ladder-back chair and pulled the pants the rest of the way off along with his socks before rising to his feet, fully aroused.

Her eyes went to his cock, flushed and hard, the tip curving toward his stomach. She tensed, her amusement draining away. Her heart raced in a panicked little rhythm.

“Jani?” He took a step toward her and she had to force herself to remain seated. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry. It’s not you. But—” She shook her head.

“Oh, sweetheart.” Sitting on the bed beside her, he set his hand on the mattress between them, palm up.

She dug her nails into the sheets. “I thought—”

“What?” he prompted.

She made a low, unhappy sound. “That I was done with this. You’re my mate. How can I be afraid of you? And I was having fun, damn it.”

“Take my hand.” A low, comforting rasp.

She looked at his open palm.

This is Fane, she reminded herself.

Mate, the cat added.

She let out a ragged exhale and uncurled her fingers from the sheet to place her hand on top of his. It felt good: cool, but firm.

“I don’t think it works like that,” he said. “You won’t be all better in a day. Or a month. Or even a year.”

“But I want this, damn it. I don’t want to be afraid. I’m so fucking tired of being afraid.”

“It’s okay.” He threaded his fingers through hers. “I want to be with you any way I can. The sex is just icing on the cake. We can take it as slow or fast as you want.”

The tightness in her shoulders eased. She took a calming breath.

“This helps. Just sitting with you. Holding hands.”

“You will get over this. I know it.” He leaned toward her. “Can I kiss you?”

Tears pricked her eyes. He was being so damn careful with her.

“Yeah,” she said in a barely audible voice. “I’d like that.”

He set his free hand on the side of her face and brushed his lips over hers. “I love you.” His mouth touched one cheek. “I will always be there for you.” He traced his lips across to her other cheek. “I will never, ever hurt you.”

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