He’d waited five years for this, so he tried to slow down. Her statement the other night kept running through his head; that females needed a reason for sex. To give that kind of trust. He moved his mouth from hers, kissing along her delicate jawline to nip the fragile cord along her neck. “I won’t ever let anybody harm you,” he murmured, his hand caressing her breasts, enjoying her gasp of pleasure.

“You’re making promises?” she arched against him, her tone raspy.

“Yes.” He grazed his fang along her skin enough to bite but not scratch.

She moaned and dug her nails into his biceps, cutting erotic pain through his arms. “Then promise you’ll let me photograph you any time I want. Anywhere I want.”

He stilled. “I promise.” If that’s how this was going, he was on board. “Promise me you won’t take off by yourself and put yourself in danger again. That we are honest about our plans and locations.” Not that he wasn’t going to keep a close eye on her in the future, anyway. He sucked a pouting nipple into his mouth.

She grasped his hair, arching even farther into his mouth. Her promise was breathless and garbled, but she made it nonetheless.

He laved her nipple and moved to the other one, his cock so hard he was losing feeling in his legs. But it was fucking worth it. The taste of her went to his head, and he kissed lower, dipping over her navel to those satiny pink panties. He tucked his thumbs in the sides and snapped them free.

Her laugh was free and pained. “I liked those,” she said.

“Me, too.” He tossed them over his shoulder, settling down to what was becoming his favorite treat. The other night had been way too fast, and he hadn’t had a chance to play. He was taking the time now and would worry about the danger tomorrow.

The sight of his mark on her thigh, from when he’d bitten her, arrowed satisfaction through him with a shocking intensity. Unable to resist, he leaned down and nibbled.

She jerked. “Oh, God.”

He chuckled against her, watching her abdomen roll in response. “Pray all you want, Leannain. I’m still doing this my way.” Which meant nice and slow so he could enjoy himself.

“You called me that before,” she moaned, her thighs widening on their own. For him. “What does it mean?”

“Sweetheart. In the language of my people.” He kept his mouth close to her clit, so his heated breath brushed her. The strangled moan she gave nearly made him laugh.

But he’d never been able to resist temptation for long, so he slipped one finger inside her, testing her. Ah. Nice and wet, but incredibly tight. Way too tight. He’d have to see what he could do about that.