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fighting to the surface, the strong scent of her arousal inciting him to lean across the table and pull her to him—right now. Her blush had faded, but the pink of desire remained, and the tip of her tongue traced a soothing line around the lips she'd been unconsciously nibbling all through dinner.
       He fought down his predatory instincts, the need to take her, to mate her, to make her permanently his, and instead reached a lazy hand across the table.
       "How about we go into the living room for coffee?" he suggested mildly, careful to hide the ragged edge in his voice.
       "Dessert?" she queried, her voice a siren's song beckoning him to rip her clothes off and fuck her senseless on the spot. And then think about all the wonderful things he could do with her body and the fruit he'd taken so much care choosing.
       He smiled instead, ignoring his own body's demands for the moment. "I'll bring it in with the coffee," he said, accompanying the comment with a tiny mental push. If she didn't get herself out of the kitchen in the next few seconds, she'd end up as dessert. Which wasn't altogether a bad idea, he mused, glancing at the collection of berries and tropical fruits he'd rinsed and put aside while the pasta was boiling.
       Fresh cream? He opened the fridge and upended the carton he'd bought into a jug he found in the dresser.
       Bowls? He considered for a few seconds then grinned, once again wholly the predator. Nah, totally unnecessary.
       Spoons and a knife, however, he'd need if he didn't want to scare her. He may have had perfectly good claws that were ideal for peeling fruit, but he couldn't imagine her lying there quietly while he shapeshifted. He almost laughed at the image in his head— that of a werewolf calmly hulling and eating strawberries—and went back to his preparations.
       "How do you take your coffee, baby?" he called through the door. Even in human form, his nose told him she drank it black with one sugar, but he didn't want to have to explain where he'd got that knowledge.
       He waited for her reply, a little time-lagged by the slight compulsion he'd placed on her, and placed two mugs of sweetened coffee, the jug of cream, and a plate heaped high with fruit on a tray. Two spoons and a paring knife clattered as they landed on the tray and he glanced up, aware the sudden sound had broken his concentration. His gentle mind-spell had shattered.
       His eyes gleamed hungrily and his teeth lengthened into fangs as he thought of the woman waiting on the other side of the door. By the time he stepped through, nudging the door closed behind him, his appearance was perfectly normal.
       Gina had arranged herself on the lounge, curled into a corner of it to leave plenty of space for him. He accepted the unspoken invitation, watching her eyes travel over the tray. She looked up at him expectantly as he settled and he smiled back, letting his reassuring warmth flow towards her. Before he'd thought about what he was doing, he'd let his body follow the same path as his mind. He leant towards her and scooped her into his lap, enfolding her protectively in his arms. As his mouth lowered over hers, he inhaled her scent and forced the wildness of the forest to lurk

    deep inside him. Her neck tipped, her lips parted, and he claimed her mouth as his own.

Chapter Five

    Gina wasn't quite sure what she'd expected. Hunger? Desire? Strength? Lust, even?
       Maybe.
       But not this.
       Everything slowed down, his passion suddenly on hold. Still there, but somehow…controlled. Waiting.
       Well, she could wait. Right now, this was too nice.
        Nice?
       That wasn't a word she'd ever thought she'd use when it came to Nate Moore. But it was nice.
       His lips were gentle on hers, coaxing her to join him in the kiss. His tongue flicked out, so swiftly she could almost have imagined it. But it was real. A hint of his heartbeat. The moisture of his mouth on hers.