I suspected that my trying to talk to him as if he were a person, to understand him, to sympathize, had freaked him out. I doubted anyone had ever bothered before.
The trek down wasn’t any easier than the trek up had been. In areas the terrain was so steep, I slid forward, bumping into Sawyer, who never seemed to slip. He didn’t pause, didn’t help, wouldn’t talk.
Near dusk we reached his place. Sawyer walked straight into the hogan. He didn’t come back out.
I went into the house and took a shower until the water ran cold. By then, twilight reigned. Standing in the doorway, I watched the stars arrive. In the distance, coyotes howled. I assumed they were real coyotes, but I couldn’t be sure. Unless I touched them.
I cocked my head. Something tickled my brain. The snake had said I must do whatever it took to become who I needed to be. Sex with Sawyer had given me his power of shape-shifting, but I was certain he had others. Maybe I’d have to take them.
By taking him.
I lowered my gaze from the stars to the earth, and there he was, standing at the edge of the trees, naked in the night. Had he been running across the mountain as a wolf, a mountain lion, a tiger? The idea was both frightening and arousing, the depths of his power, the possibilities of it, enticing.
He continued to watch me without moving, as if his stillness would keep me from seeing him. He had to know better. I could not only see him, but hear him, smell him.
The snake had also said there’d be choices, so I made one. When he didn’t come to me, I went to him.
The first time had been out of my control. I hadn’t known then that the sex was real. I knew now. I chose it; I chose him. There was no going back, no denying it.
Hell, there was no stopping it—or me.
I took his hand. His skin was scalding. I wanted to feel that heat inside of me. I wanted to drown in his scent. Taste of his flesh.
His light eyes glowed moon silver as he lifted his other hand and touched my hair. It was a gesture so unlike him, I blinked.
His arm dropped to his side. His expression remained stoic. I wanted to bring joy to his face, at the least make him lose control just once.
I reached for the hem of my T-shirt, then tossed it aside along with my panties to stand naked beneath the moon. The chill night made my nipples harden. My skin pebbled with gooseflesh.
As if he couldn’t help himself, he cupped a breast, his fingers dark against my moon-shrouded skin. I let my head fall back, baring my neck, the ultimate sign of trust. His breath caught. I waited for the exhale and when it didn’t come, slowly I raised my face so I could see his.
He held my breast like an offering to the god of the moon, his thumb poised over the nipple as if he fought his own desires as well as my own.
I arched into him; my breath caught as thumb and nipple collided, and the curve of my breast filled his palm.
Still he hesitated, even though I could feel his erection warm against my skin. I imagined sliding to my knees, licking him as I went. He’d taste like sun and wind, salt and water, like man and more. I had to have him for no other reason than that.
“Please.”
My voice was hoarse. Probably from the unlikely bend in my neck, which 1 again offered to both Sawyer and the moon. I began to lift my head, intent on doing what I’d just imagined—going down on him until he was the one saying please. But he stayed me with one sweep of his thumb over my nipple, one squeeze of my breast and the harsh, foreign-sounding expletive that was muffled against my neck when his mouth pressed to the curve.
His teeth worried a bit of skin, the sharpness of the bite igniting me further. My hands grasped his shoulders as he made his way to my breast, caressing, kissing, licking until I thought I might explode if he didn’t—
Suddenly he swung me off the ground. I gasped at the sensation. 1 wasn’t small; he wasn’t large. But he was strong. I’d known that even before he strode across the yard, kicked back the half-open door of the house, and laid me on the bed far more gently than I’d expected.
What I’d expected was for him to do me in the yard, on the ground, against the wall of the house. Or, once inside, to toss me oil the mattress, thrusting into me as he followed me down. The sex would be rough and fast, but fantastic.
Instead, he stared at me as the moon streamed through the window, casting him in ebony shadow. I couldn’t see his face; I wasn’t sure I wanted to.
“Sawyer?” I held out my hand.
The gesture broke whatever hesitation he’d had. I could have sworn I heard him curse again, but he joined me on the bed, covering my body with his.
However, he didn’t take me as I wanted him to, filling my eternal emptiness to bursting, opening my body, mind, and soul. Instead, he kissed me for hours it seemed, refusing to finish what I’d started no matter how much I begged.