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“Me either. Except.” She brushed her lips over his. “This maybe. This is pretty good.” And skimming her fingers through his hair, tipping his head back, kissed him long and slow and deep.

“Eve.” He murmured it, mouth against mouth.

“Let me.” Her lips traced over his cheeks, soft. Tender. “Just let me. I love you.”

And couldn’t bear to see him hurt. Couldn’t bear to see him weary. They would work, and work together. They would fight, and fight together. But for now she only wanted to give him peace.

He was so strong, that strength both appealed to her and challenged her. Now those muscles were taut and knotted with a tension that so rarely showed. She stroked, letting her hands soothe while her mouth seduced.

So controlled, she thought, shifting to scrape her teeth lightly over his jaw. She found both frustration and security in his control. Now it wavered, and she would exploit the weakness, channel anger into lust.

Her busy hands moved to his shirt, slowly opened buttons. Her lips followed down the trail of exposed flesh to his heart where the beat was strong, but still too steady.

“I love the taste of you.” She ran her hands up his chest, over his shoulders, flicked her tongue over that warming skin. “Everywhere.”

Again she shifted, straddling him now. And when she saw his eyes, the dark smoke of need over the wild blue, the beat of her own blood quickened.

She’d been wrong, she realized. The rage in him wasn’t ready to cool, and wouldn’t be quenched with gentle strokes and quiet sighs. It was heat that would smother heat.

Watching him, she hit the release on her weapon harness, let it slide to the floor behind her. Watching him, she unbuttoned her shirt, shrugged it off. Beneath she wore a thin cotton tank, dipping low. She saw his gaze shift down, felt her nipples throb as if his mouth had already claimed them.

But he didn’t touch her. Knew the moment he did, the chain would break and he’d ravish. Devour, he thought, furious with himself, when she was offering him comfort. He gathered himself, touched a hand lightly to her cheek.

“Let me take you to bed.”

She smiled, and there was nothing comforting about it. “Let’s take each other.” She stretched up, stripping the tank over her head and tossing it aside. “Right here.”

She fisted her hands in his hair, curved her body to his, sliding flesh to flesh. “Put your hands on me,” she demanded, then crushed her mouth to his.

His control snapped. In one violent move she was under him, pinned. He fed on her, filling himself, swallowing each ragged breath. He put his hands on her, taking greedily, recklessly driving her to that first frantic peak.

And when she cried out, he took more.

His mouth closed over her breast, teeth nipping tiny, delicious pains into sensitive flesh. The thrill of it drummed through her so that she arched up, urging him on, digging her nails into his back. She twisted under him, her hands searching, her mouth seeking. Their needs matched, desperation for desperation. And their limbs tangled as they fought with clothes.

Sweat-sleeked flesh.

With that savage rage whipping through him, he could think of nothing but her. Of mate. The long, agile length of her. The curves and dips of her that miraculously fit against him. The pale, beautifully delicate skin that rode so smoothly over hard muscle. The taste of that skin when the heat of passion bloomed over it.

More. All, was all he could think while his blood burned.

She was hot, so hot and wet when his fingers stroked into her. Smooth and tight as her hips pumped. He wanted, needed, to see her come, needed to feel it, to know when her system exploded, everything she was, was his.

Her body arched, a tight little bridge of sensation. Her breath tore out into a sob. She poured into his hand.

Still, he couldn’t stop, gave her no chance to slide gently down again. Instead he drove her ruthlessly, rushing up her body with teeth and tongue.

When his mouth was on hers, when he could feel her about to shatter yet again, he plunged into her, knocking her over the edge with that first