Page 22 of Yasmin and the Yeti
She didn’t. Instead, she wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her face into the warm fur of his shoulder, breathing in his wild, musky scent.
He laid her gently on the soft moss-covered platform, then hesitated, looming over her, his expression torn between desire and uncertainty.
She reached up and put her hand on his cheek, echoing the way he had touched her before. “It’s okay,” she whispered. “I want this. I want you.”
Something in his expression broke open at her words. A raw hunger burned in his glowing eyes as he lowered himself down next to her, careful not to crush her as he pressed against herside. She could feel the throb of his kotra against her stomach, a searing brand of need and desire that left her breathless.
He stroked his hand down her body, his touch gentle despite the sharp claws that could tear through her clothes with ease. Instead, he carefully removed the clothing he had just acquired for her, his touch reverent as each layer was pulled away. She was acutely aware of his intense gaze following every movement of his hand, drinking in each new inch of bared flesh. The firelight danced over her skin, casting golden shadows across her body. He traced the edge of one shadow, his touch achingly light and unbelievably erotic. She shivered, and he growled, the sound vibrating through her and stoking her own desire.
When she was completely naked, he paused, his gaze roaming over her from head to toe. His expression was a mixture of awe and desire that made her feel beautiful and powerful. She arched her back, pushing her breasts up, and was rewarded by a low groan. His hands came down to cover the small mounds, and she trembled at the warmth of his touch.
He bent his head and took one taut peak into his mouth, sucking gently while his tongue flicked back and forth across the tight little bud. Her back arched, and she cried out, her fingers digging into his fur. He growled again and the vibrations only intensified the sensation, sending pleasure rocketing through her. She was dimly aware of the other nipple being tugged by his fingers, adding to her arousal.
Her pussy throbbed and ached, desperate to be filled, but when she tried to reach between them, he grabbed her hand and shook his head.
“Yasmin. Mine.” There was no mistaking the possessive satisfaction in his tone. “I pleasure.”
She understood what he was saying. He was claiming her, not just in word but in deed. She relaxed back onto the bed, letting him take control. He returned his attention to her breasts, his fingers and mouth leaving her breathless, until her entire existence was centered on her aching nipples. Just when she thought she couldn’t stand anymore, he released her breasts. She sagged back down into the furs, panting.
He moved between her legs, spreading her thighs with a hungry look that had her squirming. His hands covered her breasts again, and his mouth… oh god. His tongue flicked across her clit, once, twice, a third time, and she exploded, arching up off the platform as she cried out her pleasure. He growled and continued licking her throbbing flesh, his tongue delving into her empty entrance. Her body shook, the pressure building inside her all over again.
“Please, Rhaal. I need you now.”
He lifted his head to look up at her, his eyes still blazing. She couldn’t resist reaching down and running a finger through the slick heat coating her folds. His eyes followed her movement, then he grabbed her hand and licked her finger. The sight of his rough tongue on her skin sent an aftershock of arousal through her, and he growled again before positioning the head of his cock at her entrance.
But then he looked down, and his body went still.
“What? What is it?”
She followed his gaze down to where the admittedly intimidating length of his cock pressed against her. She shivered in a confused mixture of anticipation and trepidation.
“Not hurt,” he said, and she suspected that he was talking to himself as much as he was talking to her.
His eyes were wild, his breathing harsh, and for a moment, she thought he was angry. Then she recognized the expression on his face—not anger, but a desperate struggle for control.
“Rhaal?” she questioned, reaching for him.
He caught her hand, pressing a gentle kiss to her palm. “Not now,” he growled, his voice strained.
Before she could respond, he was gone, slipping from the bed and striding toward the cave entrance. The heavy hide curtain fell back into place behind him with a soft thud, leaving her alone in the suddenly empty cave.
The cold air from outside rushed in, raising goosebumps on her heated skin. She sat up slowly, pulling one of the furs around her naked shoulders. She wasn’t hurt or offended by his abrupt departure—somehow, she understood. This wasn’t rejection. It was fear.
She settled back against the furs, her body still humming with unfulfilled desire, but her heart oddly at peace. He would return when he was ready. And when he did, she would be waiting.
Outside, the wind howled across the snow-covered landscape, carrying away the deep, frustrated growls of a male fighting for control.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Rhaal fled into the freezing night, unable to remain in the cave any longer. The scent of Yasmin’s arousal, the memory of her soft lips against his, the way her body had responded to his touch—it was too much. He’d been on the verge of claiming her when he’d looked down and seen his kotra poised at her tiny entrance.
He’d known she was small, but he hadn’t understood just how small until that moment. Her delicate bones, the softness of her bare skin—all of it so easily damaged. The knowledge terrified him. His own overwhelming need was a wild, primal force inside him, clawing to break free, but he wouldn’t allow himself to lose control, to forget the vulnerability of the fragile female beneath him. He couldn’t hurt her—he wouldn’t hurt her.
The blast of arctic air against his overheated body was a welcome shock to his system. He needed this—the biting cold, the painful sting of ice crystals against his face—anything to leash the primal urge that threatened to overwhelm him.
He wanted nothing more than to return to the warmth of the cave, to claim Yasmin fully as his mate. But she was so small,so delicate beneath his massive hands. And he… he was broken. Damaged. Unworthy.
He moved deeper into the rocky canyons surrounding his home, his body blending with the snow-laden landscape. He told himself this was just a routine patrol, a necessary precaution he’d performed countless times over his years of exile. But the lie rang hollow in his mind. This was flight, pure and simple.
