“Yes…”
He whirled her around. Sat her on the edge of his desk and shoved her legs apart. Jane’s hands flew back, slamming onto the surface of his desk, narrowly avoiding a collision with his laptop as she fought to find her balance.
“Need to be…in you…” And his voice was that rough growl again. The one that made goosebumps rise on her skin. That made her nipples pebble.
That made her wet.
“I want that, too,” Jane whispered as her hands curled against the desk. Aidan, in her. Sinking deep. Her nails scraped over the wooden surface and Aidan’s fingers—he was yanking at the button of her jeans, pulling down the zipper, then pretty much jerking the jeans and her shoes right off her.
Her underwear vanished with the jeans. A very good thing. The cool air hit her skin and Jane let out a quick gasp when Aidan’s hands came back. Big, strong hands. They pushed her thighs farther apart and then his fingers were stroking into her. Pushing into her sex even as his thumb worked her clit.
That was her Aidan, all right. Zero to implosion in way less than sixty seconds.
“Aidan—” Jane began, desire sharpening her voice. The room was soundproofed, so she knew no one outside would hear them. When you had a bar that was normally packed with werewolves and their enhanced hearing, you had to take precautions—hence the soundproofing. She knew she could yell, could scream with her climax, and no one but Aidan would hear her.
Only Aidan.
“Can’t wait,” he gritted.
She nodded. Did she look like she wanted him to wait?
“Too scared…” His eyes were definitely glowing. “Too…pissed.”
Uh, oh. “Aidan?”
He’d jerked open his own jeans. His cock—big, long, fully erect—pushed at the entrance to her sex. Their eyes met, then he drove deep.
So deep that she lost her breath.
So deep that her whole body shuddered.
So deep…Jane thought that for a moment, they were one.
The bond is always there with him.
Her nails scraped over his desk, then she was grabbing his shoulders. Holding on tight. She could handle all of him now that she was a vampire. No worries about him hurting the delicate human. She could have him all, and all—all was exactly what she wanted.
He withdrew, then slammed into her. Again and again. Her fangs burned in her mouth, the bloodlust aroused by her physical desire for him. But Jane kept her lips clamped shut. This wasn’t some life-or-death emergency, she wasn’t going to bite him again—especially not with Paris’s warnings fresh in her mind.
His hand was between their bodies. His thumb still stroking her clit and her orgasm built, her whole body quaking. It was so close. She was—
Aidan put his mouth at the curve of her shoulder, right there, at the bottom of her neck. She felt the press of his teeth and then he…he…bit her.
Pleasure lashed through her and she squeezed her eyes shut. Her legs were locked tightly around his hips and her body arched against him, rocking hard again and again as the climax erupted. She couldn’t get enough air to scream, couldn’t do anything but take and take that pleasure as he thrust into her once more…
And then he was the one erupting. She felt the hot splash of his release inside of her, and then Aidan was pulling his mouth from her and roaring out her name.
She rather liked that roar.
Her heartbeat thundered in her ears. Her body quivered. Her sex pulsed. And slowly, very slowly, her lashes lifted as she stared at him and—
There was blood on his mouth. A little drop of blood that had dripped from the corner of his lips.
Her blood.
Only…
Since when do werewolves drink blood?
Her thundering heartbeat seemed to stutter as she stared into his eyes. Eyes that were still glowing too bright with the power of his beast.
Aidan licked the drop of blood away. “You taste fucking delicious,” he whispered.
A shiver slid over her body. A shiver that had nothing to do with pleasure and everything to do with fear. Paris’s words whispered through her mind once more…
I’m worried that you’re changing him.
She…was.
Chapter Three
Jane was afraid of him.
Aidan paced in front of his desk. Jane was in the bathroom. He could hear the blast of the shower. He’d wanted to go in there with her, but…
Jane is afraid.
Did she think he didn’t know? He’d smelled her fear. Fear had a distinct scent—coppery, bitter. Jane had stared at him, even while he was still balls deep in her body, and she’d been afraid. Her hands had flown between their bodies and she’d pushed him away, muttering about needing to freshen up.
What. The. Fuck?