On the Prowl

can. And he had.
    “You haven’t touched me,” I whispered as we walked, so close, a hairbreadth away from each other, but without that final contact.
    He turned his head, looked at me then, and my breath caught. His eyes burned that rich yellow-gold, the color of his beast. What he had been named for—Amber. The color of his eyes whenever he was moved with passion or power. Or both.
    “If I touch you now, I will not stop.” His voice was deep and dark and so rich in timbre that it vibrated the air. “And the cottage is yet a mile away.”
    “I don’t want to wait,” I said huskily, feeling my own eyes dilating, expanding, so that everything came to me even more sharply, clearer.
    “You must,” he said, and I blinked at the hard command, the quiet arrogance in those words. He was changing, my Amber. Becoming more confident, more…dominant.
    I almost purred. “Must I?”
    He slanted a look at me, eyes narrowed, a tiny smile lifting his lips. “Yes,” he said deliberately, “you must.”
    Oooh. He wanted to play. Or rather, he wanted to dominate.
    I licked my lips and his eyes followed the gesture, darkening. My clothes were suddenly too constricting, my skin too sensitive, my breasts too full, my nipples too peaked. I unzipped the dress and stepped out of it, leaving the discarded, hateful dress on the leaf-strewn ground, and kicked off my shoes. Cool air teased over my skin, wisped through the blush-colored lace of my bra, the triangle of my panties.
    Now it was Amber’s turn to catch his breath, to run his hot eyes over the unclothed paleness of my skin. For his nostrils to expand and inhale in the rich ready scent of my softening body. My turn to tease him by running a hand down my neck, between my breasts, and trail tantalizingly lower. “Are you sure?” I asked in a slow, languid drawl.
    He growled. And I laughed.
    In a blink, my laziness slipped away. “Catch me if you can,” I challenged. With my eyes aglow, I leaped away. And large predator that he was, dominant male that he was becoming, he gave chase.
    I made him work for it, truly fight to get what he wanted—me. I ran like the hounds of hell were behind, chasing me. I ran like the wind. A blur of soundless speed that whipped the air with my passage. So fast that had a human seen us, he would not have seen anything, only sensed the stirring of movement through the rippling air currents left in our wake. And he was right behind me, as fast as I, his form bigger, stronger, even more powerful. He caught the heel of my foot, tumbled me to the ground. I rolled, went with the momentum, kicked out of his grasp, and bounded away again, my trailing laughter teasing him like a ghost.
    I darted among the trees, under overhanging branches, deliberately using my greatest advantage, my smaller size, to my benefit. I glimpsed him to the left of me, running parallel, cutting his own course through the forest rather than follow my height-challenging one, and flashed him a glimpse of my white teeth before veering sharply to the right, leaping over a bushy shrub, then cutting right yet again. He put on a burst of speed and intercepted me. His large arms wrapped around me and brought me down, his big body like a safe cocoon around me as we rolled and rolled until we had safely stopped.
    “I’ve caught you,” he said in a gritty rumble, his voice rough, his yellow-gold eyes gleaming. “Now yield.”
    “No,” I said. Grinning, I bucked him off me, leaped to my feet, and sprang away. But he was on me again, magically fast. He caught one of my wrists, mid-leap, and swung me against a thick tree trunk, my back pressing against smooth bark. He captured my other wrist, pinned them both above me. Heaving, straining with effort, I slowly pushed my hands away from the tree, lifting them away from the bark against his resistance…one inch…then two. Amber’s eyes widened, expressing both our surprise. “You are getting stronger,” he murmured, just before his head swooped down and he captured my lips.
    I melted at the first taste of him, his dark sweet flavor like roasted chestnuts, and he pinned my arms once again above me. When he drew back, both our breaths were coming faster, mingling together in the cool air in frosty puffs. Taking advantage of my pliancy, he shifted his grip so that both my slender wrists were anchored firmly in just one broad hand. His other hand he placed like a victorious raider on my pale skin, sweeping it with low rumbling