No, his fiery-haired mate was dressed in sapphire blue silk that made every cell in his body ache to feel her rubbing against him again. The bodice cupped and held her br**sts like a lover, hugged her trim waist and hips before flowing around her legs.
There was some kind of burgundy trim at the bodice and the straps that went over her slender shoulders. A burgundy wrap had been given to the doorman earlier along with a tiny matching purse.
His coya was exquisite. She moved like a flame, danced over his lusts like a tempting promise held just out of reach.
He glanced over to Brim, with whom Ashley was flirting outrageously. When had his female Breeds learned how to flirt? He would have shaken his head, but it would have indicated his confusion. Never show weakness, he reminded himself as he collected his whiskey and a glass of wine for his mate.
Striding back to her, he hid his smile. She watched him, no matter where he moved. His mate was jealous. Enraged with it. It indicated more than a surface lust, and he craved her emotions as much as he craved her body.
“For me?” She reached out and took his whiskey. “Thank you.”
He watched, c**k throbbing, his senses suddenly heightening further as she sipped the smooth whiskey without a grimace. Hell, he should have known better. She had drunk vodka with the same relish at several of their meetings and laughed at him the first time he’d shown his surprise.
As she sipped, she let her gaze slip along the room. A dance floor was set off to the side, and a band was easing into a slow, seductive tune as waiters worked to clear the tables of dinner dishes.
Del-Rey handed the glass of wine to a nearby waiter and turned back to Anya, his fingers covering hers, surprising her, surprising himself. He pulled the glass she held to his lips, tipped it and finished it for her. His lips covered the spot hers had, and he swore he could taste her on the glass.
The sweet taste of her pu**y was still in his senses, tempting his tongue. The need to lay her back and lick her slowly and thoroughly was nearly overwhelming. Anger or not, he’d show her, prove to her the pleasure he could give her. He had but one goal. To wipe the memory of that first time out of her mind and replace it with the ecstasy he knew would grip both of them.
Her brow lifted as he finished her drink; her blue eyes sparkled with the challenge. Then she licked her lower lip slowly. “Very practiced,” she murmured. “Who taught you that?”
The clear little jibe pricked, but he shook it off easily enough.
“I had to be taught?” he asked her, moving closer as he took the glass and set it on the table beside her.
“I would imagine,” she drawled, “if you’ve learned moves like that, then someone must have taught them to you.”
Damn her. He should have known she’d pick the worst possible place to tempt him.
His jaw clenched at the memory of that afternoon’s pleasure, and need burned inside him like wildfire.
“That didn’t count,” he assured her, lowering his head to her ear, letting his cheek rub against hers. “Just because I lost control then doesn’t mean I will now.”
“A loss of control?” she murmured. “An interesting excuse.”
She shifted, her br**sts brushing against the front of his tux as she spoke. “I don’t remember any reports of sexual training for the Coyote Breeds. Maybe you really just didn’t know any better.”
She was deliberately challenging him and he loved it. She wasn’t going to ask him for anything. She was pushing him, daring him without saying the words. Pushing to see if he was worthy of her. Damn her, she was invading his soul.
“A man doesn’t need training to know how to touch his woman,” he finally stated, allowing his hand to rest against her hip, his senses to inhale her scent. “But remember, Mate, I was out of those labs for a hell of a lot of years. Trust me, I know well how to please you.”
She stiffened at the reminder. He could feel the fine tension radiating through her.
“Took advantage of it, did you?” she asked. “Perhaps that was where I made my mistake. I didn’t take advantage of any chances I may have had. Maybe I should have gained the experience you didn’t take the time to show me.”
His teeth clenched. He loosened them to nip her ear.
“I would have ripped out the throat of any bastard who touched you.”
“Would you?” Her hand settled on his arm as his fingers tightened on her hip. “You wouldn’t have known.”
“I would have,” he whispered against her ear. “I would have known. And I would have killed.”
“You’re rather handy at the killing part,” she snorted, pulling back from him, the deep blue of her eyes peeking up through her lashes. “Tell me, Del-Rey, how many times have you used the freedom of the hormonal therapy to touch another woman?”
“This is the wrong place to push me, Anya,” he warned her. “Don’t make the mistake of believing a public event would stop me from throwing you over my shoulder and carrying you out of here. I will. And once we’re back in that limo, I promise you, you’ll learn to not defy me in such a way again.”
Her lips twitched. Sweet, pouty lips. They glistened as though a layer of dew had been laid to them. He was so damned hungry for her kiss that the glands beneath his tongue were now twice their size. He wanted nothing more than to pump it between those lush lips again, feel her suckling at it, meeting and stroking it.