Drake stood at the edge of the doorway, watching Saria as she leaned against the bed and wept. The T-shirt rode up over the curve of her bottom, revealing small pink-striped underwear. The material fit lovingly, showing the smooth undersides of perfectly rounded cheeks. His cock, already pulsing with urgent desire, dripped, the tightness intense. Every nerve ending seemed centered in his groin.

She was everything he’d ever dared to dream of. He wanted a woman of courage. Of passion. One who preferred the outdoors and was unafraid to be his partner. He wanted a lot of sass and a little ferocity. Saria was the embodiment of all those things. He knew she belonged to him, but she was young and inexperienced. The idea of being a shifter was new to her and the intensity of the mating cycle of their species had to be frightening.

“Saria?” Drake kept his voice gentle, tried—without much success—to keep the lust and passion from his tone. The craving for her didn’t let up, not for a second, and he knew it never would even if she rejected him.

Saria slowly turned, sliding to the floor to sit with her knees drawn up and her back to the bed. She sent him a tentative smile and his heart did that strange stuttering. He knew what courage that little smile had to have taken.

She didn’t flinch away, but looked him straight in the eye. “I think you’re safe now. I’m not goin’ to jump you.”

He gave a soft, self-deprecating laugh. “I’m not certain that’s good news. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything more in my life than I want you. It’s not going to go away.” He wanted her to hear the ring of truth in his voice. “I’m afraid we might be in a little trouble here, honey.” He pulled a water bottle from his pack, opened it and handed it to her.

Saria took the bottle and patted the floor beside her.

Drake hesitated, afraid of what could happen that close to her, but she didn’t drop her gaze from his and he couldn’t resist the temptation of her trust. He sank to the floor beside her and drew up his knees. Their hips and shoulders touched. One soft thigh rubbed along his as she shifted a little, taking a long drink and handing him back the bottle.

“This is goin’ to happen again?”

“Yes. And next time this will end far differently.” He set his mouth over the rim of the bottle, where hers had been. He could taste all that pent-up lust—or maybe it was his.

“How many times have you been through this with a woman?”