His arm locked around her waist, pulling her tight against the front of his body. She felt him wrapped around her, so close. So hard. So hot. But careful. She had ignited, gone a little wild, a little out of control. His mouth did that to her. He felt wild. Out of control, but he never once brushed against her leg or hurt her back when he pulled her closer.

He lifted his head and stared down into her face, eyes intense as he studied her closely, looking for signs of distress.

“Thank you, Elijah,” she whispered, her voice a thread of sound. Her heart was pounding all over again. Her belly somersaulted. All good. “Thank you for making that go away for me.” Her nightmare. Not even a small aftertaste was left. He’d driven it away with his mouth, his tongue and his hand so tight in her hair. He’d driven it away by the strength of his will, and his beautiful declaration that he stood between her and Paolo.

“Are you okay, baby?”

The room was dark. The bed was warm. His soft, sexy voice, roughened with sleep, curled her toes and melted her insides. His body was hot, so tight against hers, and the leopard snarling and tearing at her had been driven back.

“Yeah. I’m good.” She was and she wasn’t. The nightmare was gone, but she was very, very aware of him. Her body had suddenly come alive and taken notice of the fact that he was hot. Sexy. And male.

“Then settle.”

She had the unexpected urge to laugh. That was so the Elijah she was coming to know. Sweet as honey one moment and demanding the next.

“And if I can’t?”

“Then I might have to do something about it,” he warned softly. “You need your sleep. Doc said to make certain you give your body the time it needs to heal.”

His soft warning sent a little thrill through her body. There was something very sensual about waking up next to him. He was hard and hot and smelled all male when she inhaled deeply. She silently cursed her back. The stitches were gone and the rake marks were healing, but lying flat on her back would be a problem because they were still sore.

She bit her lip and her gaze slid away from his. She was actually thinking about positions. Sheesh. Her body was beginning to feel the slow burn that had gotten her in so much trouble before. The burn that didn’t allow her to think. Only feel.

“Stop.” He breathed the word. “I’m not a fucking saint, Siena.” Even as he ordered it, his hand moved up her bare thigh, proving to both of them that he wasn’t.

His voice had roughened more. His gaze grew even darker and more intense. She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. Her body moved restlessly against his.