There wasn’t anything uncomfortable or awkward about touching Drake. Or kissing him. She moved her head until she was close enough to smell the coffee on his breath, and as naturally as breathing, their lips met.

His lips were warm, surprisingly soft for such a hard man. They moved together perfectly, Drake tilting his head just so to gather a deeper draft of her.

She was the one who had kissed him, but he’d taken control of it immediately, one arm holding her tightly to him, the hand at the back of her head holding her steady for his kiss. Her breasts were crushed against his chest, the wiry hairs faintly tickling. His erect penis was a warm, hard column of heat against her stomach. It pulsed every time their tongues met. Her sheath answered with a long, hard pull of her internal muscles.

It was almost too intense, too deep.

She broke the kiss to move back an inch and take a deep, shaky breath.

“So?” he asked, eyes gleaming. “How was it?”

She blinked, barely able to understand his words. How was what?

A long finger flicked her chin, the calluses scraping her skin. “The coffee, little one.” He bent forward for another kiss, a light one this time, just a light touch of his tongue. “Does it taste good from my mouth?”

The taste of him was hot and dark. It might have been the coffee. It was probably just him.

“Delicious,” she breathed.

“Relax against me,” he murmured. His long fingers massaged her scalp. “You’re so tense. You’re not frightened of me, are you?”

Grace was tense. Just the touch of his hands fired her skin, made her pulse pound. And yet being in his arms calmed her, calmed something deep inside her. It was frightening.

“Grace.” His deep voice had lost all humor. He shook her a little. “Tell me you’re not afraid of me.”

She lifted her head to look at him, at his sober dark eyes, hard face looking as if it had never smiled in his life.

“No,” she answered softly, truthfully. “I’m not afraid of you. Not in any way.”

His face didn’t clear. There was still a deep furrow between his eyebrows. She touched it, lightly, with her fingertip. A furrow of doubt. But there were also lines in his face that had been caused by pain and suffering.

Her gaze drifted to the large gauze pad taped over his shoulder. Was it hurting him? It was impossible to tell.

“How’s your shoulder?” she whispered.

“What shoulder?” he whispered back.

Right. What shoulder? The violence yesterday seemed distant, another time, another place. She could hardly think of it. Drake filled her entire vision; every inch of her skin touched either Drake or soft fur. Decadent and dangerous, but oh, so enticing.

She leaned forward, watching his eyes, closing hers only in the moment her lips touched his. Her torso lay on his. She tried to ease up on his wounded shoulder but he was having nothing of that. His arms held her tightly to him, so she felt every dip and hollow of his strong frame, unyielding flesh as hard as steel.

Their mouths met again, clung, the kiss so long she was breathing through him. Each stroke of his tongue had her heart pounding, made her hands shake, her entire lower body clench.

The hand at her back slid around her waist, drifted over her belly, touched her between her legs. An electric touch. She was supersensitive from the orgasm, but somehow he knew not to saw at her as some men did, thinking that the harder they touched, the harder the orgasm. They were often the kind of man who thought women loved having their nipples pinched.

Those men vanished from her head. Poof! As if they had never been. It seemed unthinkable to Grace that any man other than Drake could ever touch her again, this immensely strong man who only touched her gently, softly.

Like right now, finger slowly circling over her clitoris. She was still soft and wet from the orgasm. Her hips began an unstoppable rotation in time with his finger, completely involuntary.

He liked that. She could feel his lips turning up in a smile. Yeah, he liked it. Well, so did she.

His touch still light, he stroked her labia, gently, circling around her opening. His calluses were rough, lending a little bite to his touch. When he’d made a full circle she let out her breath in a little huff. He released her mouth, scooting up a little in bed, watching her eyes carefully. His finger speeded up, moving gently around her, at times in her.

He was watching her so carefully for her reactions, but her body was telling him everything he needed to know.

“I want to kiss you here.” His voice was deep and dark, as delicious as the coffee she’d drunk from his mouth. “Right here, a long kiss, over and over, my tongue in you.”

The vision blossomed in her head—she was spread-eagled on his fur blanket, legs wide open, his dark head buried between them. It was such a lascivious, erotic picture, her vagina rippled with excitement.

He felt it. He didn’t smile; if anything, his face grew harsher, the muscles along his jaw jumping as he gritted his back teeth. His hand was moving more quickly and her hips were writhing around it. He knew exactly where to touch, and how. The muscles in her thighs pulled tight and her stomach muscles knotted.

“Come for me.” That deep voice was used to command. She had to obey.

As soon as he said the words, her body tipped over the edge and with a cry she started convulsing.

“Now,” Drake said, his voice guttural. In a second he was sheathed in a condom. He opened her completely with two fingers, holding her open for him as he thrust inside, the movement slow, strong. He thrust to the hilt, so embedded in her she could feel his pubic hairs against the soft tissue of her sheath.

Oh God, she was clenching now around the strong, thick column, tight clenches of her muscles in sharp electric pulses. They watched each other, deep grooves bracketing his mouth, his breath coming fast. Just as the contractions were dying down, Drake started moving, slowly at first. A gentle circling with his hips, as if stretching her, then sharp little thrusts upward.

Oh God, he managed to reach some spot in her she’d never known about, because each thrust set off sparks of sensation—sharp, almost painful. His movements prolonged her contractions.

“That’s right,” he grunted, “keep going. Don’t stop.”

She couldn’t. With each passing second, the sensations intensified until her heart was hammering, her entire body throbbing. Drake’s strokes were sharp and hard, big hands holding her hips still for him.

It went on and on until the contractions were almost painful in their intensity. Grace cried out, shaking. It was simply too intense to bear.

Drake stopped under her abruptly, and she fell forward onto him, exhausted and sweaty, wrung out. Who knew her body contained all that erotic energy? She was totally spent with the force of her orgasms, her mind a complete blank.

It took long minutes before she could take stock, her senses firing up once more, like a spent machine sputtering back to life.

Sensations came back slowly. The feel of him under her, hard muscles tense as steel. His breaths so deep her legs were stretched as far as they could go to accommodate his chest.

His penis inside her, still hot and hard.

Oh God, she couldn’t. There was nothing more in her.

She shifted slightly, feeling him surge inside her.

“You haven’t, um…”

His mouth was against her shoulder and she could feel his lips moving in a smile.

“No,” he said, his voice so deep she could feel the vibrations in his chest against her breasts. “But I will, count on it.”