“If I asked you to?” he repeated, his hands sliding lower to frame her mound and then slip lower still to sweep over her inner thighs. He frowned a little.

“I meant if I thought it mattered to you,” she hastened to explain. It was difficult to think straight when her body was on fire. “I’ve never considered either, and I really like tattoos. I hadn’t thought about a belly ring, but it might be nice.”

“You’d do it for me if it mattered to me?”

His eyes were back on hers and her stomach did a crazy flip. She’d said the right thing, she could see how pleased he was. Her answer mattered to him whether she did it or not. She loved that she’d put that look in his eyes.

“Of course. I like doing things for you,” she admitted.

His smile took her breath away. He stretched out on the bed, on his belly and put her legs over his shoulders. Her breath hitched again. He looked so sexy, his gaze focused now, this time on the junction between her legs. He looked hungry, like a predatory animal about to feast. The raw sensuality was carved deep into the lines of his face and there in his eyes.

Her body pulsed and throbbed and without any more encouragement than his focused stare, more hot spice slipped out. His hands stroked her thighs and her temperature rose until she felt as if the very blood in her veins had caught fire.

She closed her eyes when she felt his warm breath first. The smallest of things, yet her inner muscles reacted, pulsing with need. She felt as if time had stopped. She heard her heart beat. The clock ticking. The wind in the trees. He had to do something or she was going to die.

He made a single sound, low in his throat, like the snarl or growl of a leopard about to devour a meal it had caught. Her heart nearly exploded and she tightened her fists around the thick dowels to anchor herself.

His tongue slid through her hot, slick folds like a caress and her entire body jerked. A low cry escaped her throat before she could hold it back. His eyes jumped to her face, a golden, hot gaze that warned her not to move, not to disturb him, that he would go at his own pace.

Catarina forced her twisting body to still. To give him all the control. She realized in that moment he was already in control of her, but not so much of himself. He was truly one with his leopard, and he wanted his feast and was going to take it. The primal frenzy was on him and it only made her burn hotter for him.