Natalie looked up at him, unable to stop herself from leaning in until her breasts nearly touched him. Her chest felt constricted, her heart too big for the space, pounding in her ears until it was all she could hear. Christian tightened the fingers of his other hand around her hip, pulling her in until there was no space between them, and the tips of her breasts scraped the thick muscles of his chest. His gaze traveled over her face, lingering on her lips, and she knew he was going to kiss her.
When his mouth met hers, her lips were already open in welcome. She expected to be ravished, but was enticed instead, his lips caressing hers with delicate, sliding kisses, his tongue quick and teasing, until she went up on her toes, and pressed her mouth to his to demand more. She felt his smile against her lips, felt him shift the angle of her head as he sank deeper into her, as his tongue swept forcefully into her mouth, stroking, tasting. Natalie wrapped her arms around his neck with a pleasured sigh. She couldn’t remember wanting anyone the way she did Christian. She was hungry for him. Every inch of her longed for him, from the ache between her thighs to the swell of her breasts, and everything above and below.
But he was being so careful with her. As if she were something fragile, as if he had to hold himself back. She wasn’t terribly experienced. Hell, she’d never experienced a man like Christian. But she wasn’t going to break, either. And she didn’t want him to hold back.
She boldly closed her teeth over his lower lip, stopping just short of drawing blood, shivering as his growled response rolled down her throat, trembling deep between her thighs, and knotting her nipples into hard peaks. His arm tightened around her back as he jerked her even closer.
“Careful, ma chére, or you’ll get what you ask for.”
“Good,” she whispered fiercely. Or at least, she meant it to be fierce.
Christian twisted his fingers in her hair and tugged her head back, forcing her to look at him as he searched her face. And then he stepped away.
“We both need to get to the estate,” he said.
Natalie scowled at the sudden shift in mood, and would have snapped at him, but he wasn’t finished.
“This isn’t the time,” he said patiently, trailing his fingers down her cheek and over her lips. “The first time I make love to you will not be up against a wall with my lieutenant waiting only a few feet away.”
Her face heated with embarrassment. She’d forgotten about Marc and his vampire hearing. What had she been thinking? That he’d throw her on the bed right then and there?
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, and tried to step away from him, but he didn’t let her go.
“Don’t be sorry,” he said, taking her hand and pressing it against his very hard erection. “I want you, Natalie. But not here, not now. Tonight . . . in my bed, where you belong.”
Natalie’s heart was pounding so hard, it felt like her entire body was shaking with it. He released her and stepped back. “Finish packing. You’re staying with us for now.”
“How come you’re in charge?” she muttered, mostly for form, and to prove to herself that she could still speak despite the desire rocking her bones. But Christian didn’t see it that way. She sucked in a breath as he hooked an arm around her neck, and placed his lips against her ear.
“I am always in charge, Natalie. Remember that in a few hours, when you’re screaming my name.”
NATALIE WAS STILL shivering at the memory of that seductive whisper as they drove the several miles back to Anthony’s estate. Christian hadn’t said anything else, but his eyes gleamed as he stretched an arm over the seat behind her, his fingers playing in her hair, and dropping teasing strokes against her neck.
“So, tell me more about Alon and his dojo,” he said after several silent miles.
It took Natalie a moment to concentrate enough to parse the meaning of his words.
“Natalie?” Christian said.
“Right. Alon. I started there initially because he offers late night and early morning classes. The timing works really well with my schedule.”
“What’s his discipline?”
“A little of everything, I think. But he’s rokudan in judo.”
“Rokudan. Sixth level, black belt,” Christian commented. “And your ranking?”
Natalie admitted to herself that she was surprised he knew what rokudan meant, and also that he’d remembered that she practiced judo. “I made shodan, first level, just before I left New Orleans.”
“How long have you been studying?”
“Since I was a child. My older brothers both took classes, and I insisted on going, too.”
“Your father permitted it?”
She snorted softly. “Daddy talks a tough game, but I’m his baby girl. I get what I want. Is judo your discipline?”
“Among others,” he said absently. “Alon . . . that’s an Israeli name.”