No doubt about it, he was beautiful.
And her already-electrified body hummed with renewed heat when she realized he was carrying her directly to the big king-size bed.
He pulled aside the coverlet and sheet, then set her down on the edge of the mattress. Jenna watched with growing hunger as he unbuttoned his dark jeans and stepped out of them. He wasn't wearing anything underneath.
Elaborate glyphs tracked around his trim waist and h*ps and down onto the sinewy bulk of his thighs. The colors pulsed and mutated, drawing her gaze only briefly from the thick jut of his erection, which stood rigid and immense as he watched her take in the sight of him.
Jenna swallowed on a parched throat as he strode toward her, devastating in his nakedness. The fiery glow of his eyes had grown impossibly brighter, his fangs seeming huge to her now.
He paused at the edge of the bed, scowling when she held his transformed gaze. "Are you afraid of me ... like this?"
She gave a small shake of her head. "No, I'm not afraid."
"If you're concerned about pregnancy--"
She shook her head again. "My internal injuries in the accident took care of that. I can't get pregnant. Anyway, regardless of that, I understand that Breed and human DNA doesn't mix."
"No," he said. "And as for any other concerns you might have, you're safe with me. There is no sickness or disease among my kind."
Jenna nodded in acknowledgment. "I trust you, Brock."
His scowl lessened but he held himself very still. "If you're not sure--
if this isn't what you want, then what I told you before still stands. We can stop anytime." He chuckled low under his breath. "I think it might kill me to stop right now, when you're looking so damn hot in my bed, but I'll do it.
God help me, but I'll do it."
She smiled, touched that someone so powerful could have such honor and humility. She pushed back the sheets and made room for him next to her. "I don't want to stop."
His mouth broke into a wide grin. On a growl, he stalked forward and climbed into the bed beside her. At first, they merely touched and caressed, kissing tenderly, learning more about each other's bodies. Brock was patient with her, even though the tension in his body told her he was racked with the need for release. He was kind and caring, treating her like a cherished lover even though they'd both agreed up front that this thing between them could never be more than casual, no strings attached.
It seemed incredible to her that this man she barely knew--this Breed male who should by rights scare her spitless--could instead feel so familiar, so intimate. But Brock was hardly a stranger to her. He'd been at her side through a nightmare ordeal, then again through the days of her recovery here at the compound. And he'd come after her that night she'd been alone and injured in the city, her unlikely, dark savior.
"Why did you do it?" she asked him quietly, her fingers tracing the dermaglyphs that swirled down around his shoulder and onto his chest.
"Why did you stay with me in Alaska, and then all those days I was in the infirmary?"
He was silent for a moment, his black brows knitted tightly over the fiery glow of his eyes. "I hated seeing what had happened to you. You were an innocent bystander who got caught in the crossfire. You're human. You didn't deserve to be dragged into the middle of our war."
"I'm a big girl. I can handle it," she said, an autopilot response that she didn't truly feel. Especially after the disturbing results of her latest blood work. "What about now ... what we're doing here, I mean. Is this part of your be-nice-to-the-pitiful-human program, too?"
"No. Hell no." His scowl deepened almost to the point of anger. "You think this is about pity? Is that what it felt like to you?" He rasped out a harsh breath, baring the sharp tips of his fangs as he rolled her onto her back and straddled her. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm pretty goddamned hot for you, lady. Any f**king hotter and I'd be ash."
To prove his point, he gave a none-too-subtle thrust of his hips, seating his shaft between the plush, wet folds of her sex. He pumped a couple of times, sliding the rigid length of his c**k back and forth within the slick cleft, teasing her with the hard heat of his arousal. He hooked his arm under her leg and brought it up around his shoulder, turning his face against her thigh and giving the tender skin a sharp nip.
"This is pure necessity, not pity," he said, his voice rough and raw as he entered her, long and slow and deep.
Jenna couldn't form a response, even if she tried. The stunning feel of him filling her up, stretching her deeper with each powerful thrust, was so overwhelming it stole her breath. She clung to him with both hands as he caught her mouth in a bold kiss and rocked over her, his body moving in a fierce, demanding tempo.
Already, the crest of another cl**ax was swiftly rising up on her. She couldn't hold it back. It crashed into her, splintering her senses, sharpening them. She felt the rush of her own blood in her veins, felt the furious pound of Brock's pulse, too, drumming beneath her fingertips and in every nerve ending. Her ears filled with the sound of her breathless shout of release, the slick friction of joined bodies writhing against the sheets. The scents of sex and soap and clean sweat on hot skin intoxicated her. The taste of Brock's searing kiss on her lips only made her crave more of him.
She hungered, in a way she couldn't understand.
She hungered for him, so deeply it seemed to wring her out from the inside.
She wanted to taste him. To taste the power of what he was.
Panting in the wake of her release, she drew back from his mouth. He swore something dark and aggressive under his breath, his strokes growing more intense, veins and tendons popping up in his neck and shoulders like thick cables rising under his skin.