Hell, he wasn't going to make it from the house before he touched her. He could touch her in reasonable safety, he told himself. But that sounded rather lame even to him. There was no way to truly ensure that the mating hormone didn't affect even the fine hairs that covered his body.
It was damned certainly affecting his tongue. The glands were so swollen they were painful, the taste of cinnamon and cloves filling his senses and reminding him how easy it would be to infuse her with the same arousal tearing through him.
Not that she wasn't aroused. She was. Just not insanely aroused. She wasn't in mating heat, and that was where he wanted her. Now.
Before he realized what he was doing, his foot was on the top step, his intentions clear in his mind. To kiss her. To taste her. To fill her with the hormone tearing through him, demanding sex, touch, taste. Possession.
"Merinus outdid herself." She touched the skirt of the dress self-consciously as she watched him. "The dress is exquisite."
Merinus hadn't arranged for the dress; he had. Jonas kept that information to himself for the time being and watched, waited, as she made her way down the curving staircase.
The dress cupped and hugged her upper body like a possessive lover. The skirt flowed over her legs, lace spilling down the side, the glittering blue threads sparkling through the material.
He wondered if the stockings looked as pretty on her as they had on the mannequin the dressmaker had kept in her shop.
"Are we ready to go?" she asked as she secured the fur-lined silk wrap that went with the dress.
"Not yet." If he didn't touch her, he was going to die. He was going to do something he knew they didn't want to face when the cold light of morning revealed itself.
But did he have the strength to pull back from just a touch.
"Come with me." He didn't touch her, not yet. Turning on his heel, he strode along the short foyer to the receiving room, waited until she entered, then closed the doors securely and locked them.
"Jonas?" The concern in her tone sliced through him as he turned back to her.
Before he could stop himself, and God knew he wished he could have stopped himself, he gripped her shoulders, spun her around and pressed her against the door.
Her soft cry was lost as his lips parted and his teeth gripped the side of her neck in sensual warning. The animal knew what was going on with the man. It knew he was fighting a battle he was going to lose, and he couldn't stop himself.
"Jonas!" Shock and arousal fueled the needy, breathless sound of her voice.
Gripping her hips, Jonas held her still as his knees dipped, his hips pressing against her rear as a harsh growl tore from his throat.
When she didn't fight, when he smelled the soft flavor of feminine juices spilling from the luscious heat of her pu**y, his teeth slowly released her.
His fingers flexed on her hips as he rubbed his c**k against the cleft of her rear, rotated his hips and imagined the pure ecstasy of sinking inside her.
"Why are you doing this?" she whispered.
"You're my mate." His voice didn't sound like his own. It was rougher, harder, more primal. "Do you know how hard it is not to take you?"
Pressing his lips against the vulnerable crook of her neck, Jonas inhaled the scent of her, tasted her with his tongue, and swore it would go no further.
"I want to taste you," he groaned. "Just one kiss, but I know what just one kiss will do. It will destroy both of us."
Her fingers were flexing against the door, her nails scraping the wood as his hands slid lower, bunched the fabric of her gown and began drawing it upward.
His control was splintering. He could feel it. Every shred of strength he possessed was centered on holding her to him, keeping her locked in place while he touched.
His c**k was throbbing as he rolled his hips against the firm muscles of her ass. He imagined pushing her dress higher, tearing her panties from her, spreading the smooth globes and watching as he pressed his c**k inside the heated depths of her pu**y from behind.
She would be tight.
His fingers met the smooth flesh of her thigh, the material of her skirt and lacy underskirt flowing over his arm as he let them stroke the silken flesh until he worked his way to the tender skin at the crease of her thigh.
"Jonas, if you don't stop now, you won't--" Her soft protest ended with a gasp as the pads of his fingers raked over the silk covering the humid heat of her pu**y.
"I'll stop." But he wasn't so certain.