his tongue did a long, slow lick of the upper one.
She closed her eyes, swelling, melting.
"What's the problem?" she croaked.
"Wasn't aware there was one." He brushed her core with his knuckles, rubbing sensitive skin. "You don't like this?"
"Of course I do."
His thumb started going in circles. "So let me get back to what I was doing."
Before he could drop his head and put that tongue on her again, she clamped her legs shut around his hand as best she could.
"Why can't I touch you?" she asked.
"We are touching." He moved his fingers. "I'm right here."
Oh, God, could she get any hotter? "No, you're not."
She tried to withdraw from him and sit up, but his free arm shot out. His palm landed on her chest, pushing her back down onto the bed.
"I'm not finished," he said in a deep rumble.
"I want to touch your body."
His gaze flared brightly. But then just like that, the glow was gone and a quick emotion passed over his face. Fear? She couldn't tell, because he lowered his head. He kissed the top of her thigh, nuzzling her with his cheek, his jaw, his mouth.
"There's nothing like your heat, your taste, your softness. Let me pleasure you, Mary."
The words gave her a chill. She'd heard them before. Back in the beginning.
His lips moved to the inside of her leg, closer to home.
"No. Stop it, Rhage." He did. "One-sided isn't sexy to me. I don't want you servicing me. I want to be with you."
His mouth tightened, and he got off the bed with a sharp surge. Was he going to leave her?
But he just knelt on the floor, arms braced on the mattress, head hanging off his shoulders. Collecting himself.
She stretched out her leg, touching his forearm with her foot.
"Don't tell me you're going to say no," she murmured.
He looked up at her. From the low position of his head, his eyes were mere slits in his face, spitting out brilliant beams of neon blue.
Arching her body, she shifted her leg, giving him a little flash of what she knew he wanted so badly.
She held her breath.
In one mighty, fluid movement, Rhage sprang up from the floor and leaped on top of her, landing between her thighs. He undid his pants and -
Oh, thank you, God.
She came immediately, clenching on to all that hardness in waves. When the thundering receded, she felt him shaking above her, inside of her. She was about to tell him to let go of his self-control when she realized restraint wasn't the problem. He was having some kind of miniseizure, every muscle in his body spasming.
"Rhage?" She looked up into his face.
His eyes were glowing white.
In an attempt to calm him, she ran her hands up his back, only to feel something on his skin. A raised pattern. Lines, almost.
"Rhage, there's something on your - "
He vaulted off her and went straight for the door.
"Rhage?" She grabbed the nightgown and threw it on as she went after him.
Out in the hall he paused to put his pants back together, and Mary nearly screamed. The tattoo was alive. The thing had lifted up from his back, the design throwing shadows.
And it moved even though he was still. The great dragon seethed as it stared right at her, the head and eyes trained on her as its body undulated.
Looking for a way out.
"Rhage!"
He took off like a bullet, going down to the foyer and disappearing through the hidden door under the stairs.
Rhage didn't stop running until he was well inside the training facility. When he got to the locker room, he punched open the doors and went to the communal shower. Turning on one of the showerheads, he slid down the tile and sat under a spray of cold water.
It was all so terribly clear. The vibrations. The humming. Always around Mary, especially if she was aroused.
God, he didn't know why he hadn't figured it out before. Maybe he'd just wanted to avoid the truth.
Being with Mary was different because... he wasn't the only one who wanted to make love to her. The beast wanted her, too. The beast wanted out so it could take her.
Chapter Forty-two
When Bella got home she couldn't settle down. After writing for an hour in her diary, she changed into some jeans and a sweatshirt and put her parka on. Outside, flurries were falling in a disorganized rush, swirling in eddies of cold air.
Zipping up the parka, she walked into the taller, rougher grass of the meadow.