His eyes glittered with menace. More cat spilled into him. The driving demand to dominate. His face glistened with the evidence of her need. She tried to find anywhere at all to grind against something, but the way he held her legs over his shoulder prevented her from finding release, but left her open to him.

“You should have learned by now, Kitten, I’m not a man you cross. Not when it comes to your safety.” His voice was low. Growling. Twice she felt the brush of fur when his hand stroked down her belly to her mound.

“Please, Eli.” She tried not to sound as insane as she felt. As if on fire. He had a look on his face that scared her more than anything. He could torture her slowly and he’d enjoy every second of it. She could see the dark intent on his face.

He blew on her. It didn’t cool the heat at all; if anything, his warm breath fanned the flames. Her entire body jerked. Before she could catch her breath, say anything, promise anything, he ducked his head a second time, clamping his mouth on her, only this time he added his fingers.

His thumb stroked her clit and then his tongue followed, flicking and pulsing against that sensitive bundle of nerve endings. She nearly came off the table. She fell back, unable to sustain her weight but needing to keep from going over the edge. Her hands started toward his hair.

He raised his head instantly, the glittering eyes moving over her face broodingly. He was still angry. It was there in the set of his mouth, his jaw. “Don’t you fucking touch me,” he snarled. “You’re in enough trouble without making it worse. If you have to hold on to something, hold the edge of the table and keep your hands to yourself.”

That hurt. He didn’t want her touching him. She liked touching him. She needed it, that closeness and intimacy between them.

“Eli, please,” she cajoled softly. “Don’t be angry with me. I don’t like it.”

Eli watched her face intently. All the while she pleaded with him, her hips undulated, bucking softly, in need. Her body was coated with a fine sheen of perspiration. He’d driven her up fast, and left her there. He wanted her there, right on the edge, but unable to fall over. Not without his say-so. Not without his consent.