Ducking his head so he wouldn’t have to meet her eyes, he rubbed his jaw along her inner thigh, kissed her again and then suckled. Her leg was satin soft. Warm. He loved running his hands over her perfectly shaped ass. He’d looked at it enough. Now it was his. He bit down on the center of the strawberry, felt the surge of heat. Her moan was low and sexy. In her throat. He felt that sound right through his cock.

“Fyodor. Honey, I need you to . . .” She broke off, her face flushed and her lips parting on a gasp as he curled his long thick finger into her, finding that perfect little spot. His thumb brushed her clit.

“I know what you need, Evangeline. I’m going to give you everything. I’m big, though, and you have to be ready for me.” She was nowhere near ready, but she thought she was. He wanted her out of her mind. Begging. All fear gone, because this experience was all about loving her, and she had to feel it. She had to know and always be confident that he loved her.

His hands gripped her thighs and he lowered his head slowly. Feeling his leopard. Feeling his heart pound. His woman. All his. For him. For the first time he allowed himself to taste her. It was a miracle he had this moment when he never thought it possible. It hadn’t been possible until . . . her. Evangeline. She changed his world. Gave him everything. He knew he would never forget that moment or his first taste.

Cinnamon and spice. Honey and cream. He took his time, holding her hips still while her head thrashed on the sheets. Her gasping cries played like a symphony, accompanying the thunderous roar in his ears and the sound of his heartbeat drumming hard. His cock reacted, so full and hard he thought he might burst. The ache was primal and satisfying. He took his time worshiping her, telling her without words what he felt, wanting her to see that yes, he was all those things she feared, but he was also this, paradise, and he would always be this for her. Only her.

She tasted like heaven and he indulged his craving for her. His woman. So perfect. Her ragged breathing punctuated by his name—his name; Fyodor, not Alonzo—added to the surreal perfection of the moment for him. He wanted it to last forever, but his painful cock was making demands and she was so close to shattering. He wanted that. To make her come apart.

He kept his eyes on her face, watching that dazed expression come into her eyes. The thread of fear of the unknown. Her hands went to his hair, anchored there, using him, trusting him. She gave that gift to him, heightening his pleasure, his love for her.