I smile almost apologetically and then bring my mouth to his chest, meticulously covering my path of aggression with a trail of kisses. I have to bend to do it and eventually I’m on my knees, my fingers on the small silver buckle of his belt.

My eyes are on his, his on mine . . .

I lower my head just slightly and bite my lip suggestively as I unfasten his belt, the top button of his pants, and move the zipper down until his erection is covered by nothing but the soft cotton of his Calvin Kleins.

“Is that for me?” I ask.

“Only if you retract your claws.”

I laugh lightly and begin to pull down his boxers and jeans. I toss the jeans aside, and something in the pocket hits the smooth oak floor with a faint knock, adding an audible exclamation mark to the act.

My eyes are no longer on his. They can’t be. What’s before me is too . . . impressive.

I lean forward, let my tongue dance over its every ridge. This too was not part of the plan, but something about him . . . I just want to taste him, if only a little.

His hands move into my hair as I continue my exploration, teasing him with my tongue, my hand, even with the warmth of my breath . . .

. . . and this time it’s his moan that disturbs the silence.

I take him fully into my mouth, feeling him harden even more. I feel his hands in my hair, hear the way his breathing becomes shallow, taste the salt of his skin, sense the power I have over him.

In an instant he’s pulling me to my feet, and for a moment I expect him to throw me down on the sofa and thrust himself inside me with the violence I would expect from a man like Lander Gable.

But he only smiles and then sweeps me up, cradles me in his arms as he carries me down the hall, past the pretty nudes and abstract art, and into his bedroom, where he lowers me onto a low bed covered by a comforter so white and so soft it makes me think of a cloud.

Like a princess.

I can feel my aggression melting away.

It’s terrifying.

He leans over me, kisses the contours of my breasts, lets his tongue flick out against the roughness of my hardened nipple before kissing my stomach, my hip . . .

I close my eyes as I feel his tongue against my sex. My head tosses from side to side as he toys with me, drawing out my passion as if it were as easy as pulling on a string.

In battles of passion there are so many tactics that can be used to overpower your opponent: displays of strength, aggression, and dominance, and then there are the equally effective acts of gentleness, attentiveness, romance, devotion.

It seems Lander has mastered them all.