Her heart pounded with fear. She could even taste it in her mouth. She had no idea what to do, how to act, even how to have sex. Obviously, Remy knew exactly what he was doing. How in the world was she going to keep up? Her body might be driving her, but when it came down to it, what was she going to do? Even those questions didn’t seem to stop her, or pour water on the fire. She couldn’t stop kissing him, or touching him, or even grinding her body up against his like some hussy desperate for sex.

Remy suddenly lifted his head. His eyes glowed a strange, deep emerald green, wholly focused on her, like a predator. A great jungle cat focused on prey. The unblinking stare sent a shiver down her spine. He didn’t let up on his unbreakable hold on her.

“You know there’s no going back for either of us.”

Bijou tried to think clearly. There was a strange roaring in her head. Her body moved constantly, rubbing against him like a cat. Her breasts ached for his mouth. She felt empty between her legs and needed him desperately to fill her. His words meant something, but he was making a statement, not asking a question. There was a wealth of possession in the glittering of his strange eyes that sent both panic and a thrill ricocheting through her body.

“I mean it, Bijou, it’s too late to ever go back.”

Remy read fear and confusion in her eyes. He could barely stand the clothes on his back and knew her skin was burning just as bad. There would be no going back. At the best of times his leopard was difficult, but hers had risen and accepted his. He wanted her with every cell in his body, every breath he drew. The intensity of need threw him. It was unexpected and a little crazy when he’d always been so in control.

His leopard would mark her for certain. Hell. He wanted to put his mark on her, his warning to all other males to stay away from her. It was a dark, primitive need he couldn’t possibly ignore. He couldn’t wholly blame his leopard for not keeping his hands to himself. If he was being strictly honest, the moment he’d kissed her—and he’d lied to himself—told himself he was kissing her to get in a tabloid and flush out her stalker—but he’d wanted to kiss her from the moment he laid eyes on her again. No, he’d needed to kiss her. Once he had, for him, there was no going back.