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against her trembling body. Her legs were spread to allow his lower body to rest between them, his fully erect cock pressing near her precise point of pleasure.
    Bayon scowled. “What’s going on?”
    Her gaze dropped to admire the bulging muscles of his biceps, oddly disturbed by the searching question in his eyes.
    She didn’t want to think. She wanted to feel.
    “You’re the last man who needs an explanation for what’s going on,” she said, refusing to dwell on the number of females who’d enjoyed Bayon’s touch. The thought was far more painful than it should be. Then she stiffened, struck by a horrifying fear. “Unless you’re mated?”
    His scowl deepened. “Christ, no.”
    Sheer relief had her reaching up to frame his face in her hands, tugging his head downward.
    “Then kiss me.”
    He made a sound deep in his throat as he allowed his mouth to crash into hers, kissing her with a raw hunger that demanded capitulation. A capitulation Keira was eager to give.
    So long as it was on her terms.
    Angling her hips so his cock pressed directly against her clit, she bit the tongue he shoved into her mouth, before sucking it with a rhythmic insistence that had him moaning in sheer male need.
    Her fingers skimmed over his bronzed face, taking an amazing delight in the hard angles and planes. He wasn’t pretty. He was too male, his features too bluntly carved. But he had a compelling beauty that enthralled her.
    Taking her time, Keira memorized the prominent line of his cheekbone and the sensuous curve of his lips. During the brutal years she’d been held captive, she’d discovered that she had no regrets for the things she’d done, but she had plenty of regrets for the things she hadn’t done.
    Things like this.
    She stroked the line of his stubborn jaw, relishing the rough stubble of his beard as she rubbed herself against the delicious hardness of his erection.
    Bayon growled, then with a last thrust of his tongue he wrenched his lips free to bury his face in the curve of her neck. He bit into her flesh with enough pressure to send white-hot lust jolting through her.
    She hissed in pleasure. Yes…oh yes. She needed this.
    Running her hands down the impressive width of his back, she grabbed the waistband of his jeans, impatiently trying to tug them down.
    “Off,” she muttered in frustration.
    “Wait.” With a harsh groan, he arched back to stare down at her flushed face. “Keira.”
    Her hands skimmed to the front of his jeans, struggling with the snap. “What?”
    “Stop.”
    She frowned, wrapping her fingers around the massive erection that pressed against his zipper.
    “Why?”
    His pained groan echoed through the cave. “Because twelve hours ago you didn’t even remember me.”
    She abruptly turned her head, pretending an interest in the nearby waterfall. “I was…confused.”
    She could feel the heat of his gaze searing over her profile. “And now you’re not?”
    “I know what I need.”
    “And what’s that?”
    She reluctantly turned back to meet his demanding gaze. “I need to know you’re real,” she breathed. “That I’m real.”
    “Shit.” His face twisted with an agonized regret, then before Keira could guess his intent, he was seated on the ground with her trembling body cradled in his lap. “I have you,” he murmured as she instinctively tried to escape his hold, pressing his cheek to the top of her head. “And I’m not letting go. Not ever again.”
    She should have been pissed. This was supposed to be a hot, sweaty bout of sex that would ease the hunger she’d had for this male for years and prove once and for all that she was out of the damned cell.
    No fuss. No muss.
    Just a glorious knowledge that she was able to do exactly what she wanted.
    But as swiftly as her desire had exploded, it altered to a different, but just as savage need.
    Comfort.
    The feel of Bayon’s hand softly stroking up and down her bare back. The warm, familiar musk of his cat. The sound of