He heard her steps across the hardwood floor. She barely made a noise as she moved, he could hear the soft tread of her feet, and the beast inside of him sat up to take notice. Salvatore had to remind him that Natale wasn’t a meal or prey, she was theirs.

Theirs.

His bear chuffed in his head, a satisfied and happy sound.

When Natale stepped up beside him at the counter, her hair wrapped up in a towel on her head, a thick fuzzy robe wrapped securely around her body, he leaned closer breathing in her scent.

Fresh from the shower, she was all over delicious, and he liked the warm flush of color in her cheeks.

She looked up at him and her lips curved up in a smile. “That smells delicious.”

His eyes narrowed on her face, drinking in her praise. He wanted to please her in so many ways. “Thank you.” The salmon in the pan sizzled. A little pop and hiss of sound echoed between them in the room.

Natale broke their eye contact, her gaze dropping to the pan. “I thought you were joking about cooking for me.”

“When it comes to you, Natale, I mean what I say.” Salvatore reached for the strainer basket of freshly cut broccoli and took the opportunity to draw in another breath of her scent. Her shampoo smelled like melon and he forced himself to keep his hands off of her.

She stilled beside him and he wondered if she could feel the rising heat in his blood.

“You haven’t been in New York very long, have you?”

The question caught him off guard. “Nearly a decade,” he explained. “Valerio moved here nearly ten years ago and Uberto and I followed him the next year, once we had everything in order in Italy while we would be here.”

“So there’s three of you.”

“Yes.” He picked up a handle and clipped it on to the wire basket, turning when she gasped.

“So that’s what that clip-thing was for!” She looked up at him, her full lower lip nipped in between her teeth. When she released it on a laugh he ached to close the distance between them and sweep his tongue over the pale white line made by her teeth. “I told you, I don’t spend much time in the kitchen.”

“Would you like to learn?”

“To cook?” She laughed and her towel slipped free of her hair.

She made a frantic grasp for it, but he already had it in hand. By the time she realized what had happened she'd knocked the towel from his hand and covered his hand and forearm with her own. She left it there for a moment and he was glad that he'd chosen to roll his sleeves up to his elbows before starting dinner. The feel of her skin against his was incredible, heat without fire, and pleasure from the pain of longing.

The more time he spent with Natale, the more he knew that his instinct had been right. She was his mate, the only woman in existence who could complete him, tame his bear and make him a greater man with her love.

“I'd teach you.”

He saw the short indrawn breath that parted her lips. The narrowing of her eyes, and knew she'd heard the intent beneath his words. He’d teach her how to cook if it made her happy, but he was perfectly happy to cook for her. He’d teach her anything she wanted to know.

And if she wanted, he'd teach her how very precious and desired she was.

The boiling water in the pot roiled over the edge and landed on the burner, sending up a quick burst of steam between them.

“That might be a little overdone,” he explained, his voice deepening as his accent thickened, “you distracted me.”

The blush on her cheeks nearly reached her hairline. “Then we’re even,” she declared. “Today in the workroom, it was almost a losing battle to get my work done. With the staff drooling over you, I'm surprised we only had a half dozen injuries.”

His instinctual concern overrode his conscious thought and he moved closer.

She put a hand on his chest to hold him in place and the belt of her robe loosened, treating him to an enticing look at the creamy skin beneath the navy-blue terrycloth.

“Whoa there, cowboy.” She sighed. “It wasn't me. Do you see any cuts?” She held up her hands and turned them over in the air for him to see that she didn't have any bandages or blood visible. “One of the models turned a little too far around trying to get a look at you, for that she got a pin in her hip and the fitter stuck a pin through her own finger. You’re a dangerous man to have in my workroom.”

“And you were able to keep your focus on your work?”

“Sure!” Her tone was bright, but it was forced. He could hear the subtle hitch in her breathing, the slight elevation in her tone. She was teasing him, and the knowledge only brought him closer to the hunt. “I didn't notice you for a moment when you were across the room. And I definitely didn’t notice how your suit is perfectly tailored for you. I’ll have to take a peek inside later to see how they built it to fit so well.”

He pulled the basket from the boiling water and set it in a bowl of ice water in the sink. That brought him close enough that he pressed up against her side. It probably would have ended right there if she didn't turn to face him.

From his knees to his stomach he was pressed deliciously against her body.

Heat flared within him as he breathed her in, and the movement of his body against hers only spread the heat like a wildfire, flames licking against his skin.

“Goodness,” she sucked in a breath and he saw the tip of her tongue flick against her bottom lip before it retreated.

He wanted to taste her. Wanted to tangle his tongue with hers and draw her into his mouth.

With one hand, he moved the pan off of the burner and set a hand on the counter. “And when I'm this close?”

Her nervous laughter squeaked from her throat. “Well, that's not fair,” she swallowed and he felt his silent growl tremble through both of them.

He wanted to put his lips against her throat and taste her there too.

“You're right here,” she explained, “of course you're going to distract me now.”

“That's not enough.” He saw her eyes widen and he kept a smile at bay. He leaned closer until they were almost nose to nose, and turned slightly.

She moved as if they were dancing, following his lead.

And found herself up against the counter.

He felt her quiver against him and drew in another breath. Under the scent of her body wash he worried that he'd find the sour taste of fear, instead he smelled the spicy scent of her arousal and struggled not to drown in it.

“Oh, wow.”

He felt the tentative touch of her hand on his side and stilled. If she tried to move him back, he'd go.

Heartbeats and seconds passed and she didn't try to move away.

“When you’re this close to me, I can barely think.”

He moved closer still, until his lips brushed against her ear, “And now?”

She leaned against him, her back arching slightly to press every inch of her luscious curves to the hard planes of his body, but he couldn’t seem to get close enough. Neither could she. Natale’s hands slid around to his back and then down as his teeth grazed the edge of her ear. Her fingers grabbed a hold of his shirt as she turned her head, her lips grazing his cheek as his beard tickled her chin.

Salvatore saw her open her eyes, a soft flutter of her lashes before they slid closed again as she sighed against his cheek. He began to close his own eyes, ready to feel her lips against his.

Music blared, the rising tones shrill even though they were muffled by something. Natale hesitated in his arms, her lips pulling away from his cheek as she tilted her head toward the sound. It wasn’t until a voice sang out that she moved. “She works hard for the money!” nearly made her jump free of his arms and with a quick grab to close her robe, which had become precariously loose, Natale grabbed up her purse from where she’d left it and shoved her hand inside. When she withdrew her phone, she pushed the accept button and cupped the phone to her ear. “What?”

Salvatore turned back to the stove, eager to finish dinner. He hadn’t planned to get that close to Natale tonight, but perhaps that had just been a natural thing. Even with his bear happily dozing inside of him, basking in Natale’s presence, he couldn’t seem to control his need to be closer to her. Just the scent of her was nearly overwhelming. Even as he removed the vegetables from the ice bath he could smell her on his skin. He struggled to keep a tight rein on his control, forcing back his fangs when one scratched into his lip. The taste of blood only served to remind him that he had yet to claim Natale.

Bear instinct warred with his human side, but both agreed on one thing. Everything was about Natale. They would claim her, but they would wait until she understood that she belonged… to them.

“No,” he heard exasperation in her tone, but he also heard a bit of humor, and so he continued his preparations, “I haven’t jumped him yet. Ericka, stop! Seriously!” He thought for a moment that he might let her know that even with her desperately trying to whisper into her phone, even with her hand cupped over her mouth, his hearing was easily picking up every single word. “And I'm not going to get the chance if you keep talking to me… yes, he's here. Here, here. Yes. My apartment.” He saw her slide a glance at him as he put the salmon onto plates, then she turned away. “Oh, come on, Ericka! Yes, he has his clothes on.”

He took the plates to the dining table and waited for her to finish her call.

When she approached the table, he held out her chair. She covered it well, but he could sense how tentative she was. It was plain to see that she wasn’t used to people doing for her. As she stepped up between the chair and the table he gently moved her chair forward until she was seated at the table.

He took his seat at her side, not willing to sit across from her, it was just too far away for him.

She picked up her napkin and settled it in her lap. “Fancy.”

He shrugged, his broad muscular shoulders making the simple movement into a grander gesture. “I found the napkins in a drawer.”

“Huh,” Natale smoothed her hands over the soft cotton, “I didn’t even know I had these.”

Salvatore poured her a glass of wine and watched her take the first bite of the meal he’d made for her. A few delicate chews and then she stopped, her face turning slightly before she took another bite. Just when he was afraid that he’d done something wrong in preparing the meal she sighed… no, she moaned.

Her eyes closed for a moment and she took in a deep breath over her plate. When she sat back in her chair she looked straight into his eyes. “It’s delicious!”

His bear rolled happily inside of him, curling up as close to Natale as he could get. And Salvatore watched as she continued to eat through the plate from the salmon with a honeyed sauce and the lightly blanched and seasoned veggies.

Their conversation flowed easily as he asked her about her work and she told him of her vision as a designer and why they’d started to have trouble. “My father felt like he’d said all he’d needed to in fashion. He felt he was out of touch with today’s woman and wanted someone to take Durante in a new direction. Both Caprice and I put together capsule collections to show him our vision.”

“You’re talented.” He saw the shock in her expression. “I don’t understand fashion. I’m at the mercy of my tailor to make sure I don’t embarrass my brothers, but when I see the models wearing your clothes, they really love what they’re wearing. They feel confident.”

He saw tears glistening in her eyes. “Thank you. That’s a very sweet thing to say.”

“It’s the truth, Natale. One has only to look at their expressions, the ease of their posture, the joy in their movements. You don’t cover them up, you enhance their bodies.”

“Not everyone feels the same way,” she let out a long sigh and picked up her napkin to dab at the corners of her eyes. “It’s hard to hear designers that you’ve worked with and admired, talking about you like you’ve lost your mind.” She took a sip of her wine. “I completely understand their reservations. Fashions for years and years have been suited to a standard of beauty based on women who are thin, the thinner the better. Little girls read the fashion magazines and they dream it will be them on those pages someday.”

“Did you want to model?”

She blushed and he wanted to taste the heat from her skin.

“No, not me.” She touched her napkin to the corner of her mouth and smiled. “I take after my mother in size and I knew from early on that the fashions in the Durante House lines were made for other women. And yet, my mother was always impeccably dressed and held herself with such poise. I knew I wanted to dress like she did, but I never saw her shopping for clothes. So, while she made these amazing couture garments for shows and the retail lines, she would hide away at night and make her own garments.

“That she felt she had to hide when she made her own clothes seemed like such a crime.” Natale set down her fork and took another small sip of wine. “I wanted to bring it all out into the light. No woman should have to hide her beauty behind closed doors, nor should she have to wear a long sheath, almost a tent-like dress, and think that’s all there is.”

“Why do the others care so much?” His plate was nearly untouched. Salvatore was hungry, but his first concern was Natale, he would always take care of her first. “Why would they care what you design?”

“Fashion should be progressive, they say. The phrase ‘fashion forward’ is always bandied about, but what they mean is if you’re thinking in ‘their’ direction. Fortunes are made and lost on a collection and setting a trend. They don’t want what I have to offer.” She gave him a sad little smile. “Durante is a well-respected house, one of the five oldest in Italy. I think they’d rather we wallow in mediocrity until the whole company falls into obscurity.” She sighed. “They don’t see that making a collection of clothes that’s meant for everyone’s form and proportions is a good thing, widening the audience for fashion. They say that I’m lowering the standard of fashion. I’m just changing the shape.”

He could see how much her thoughts were weighing on her and there was no use to continue going over it more at the moment. Once she’d spoken of the issues, the smile had faded from her lips and the corners of her eyes were tight and drawn.

His bear, was upset, at him. And even without words, Salvatore understood the message pushing into his thoughts.

Woo her, now.

Salvatore knew it wasn’t the time, but his bear certainly had a one-track mind.

Then she yawned, stifling it behind her hand with a soft chuckle. “Sorry, we’ve been working twelve to fifteen hour days.” Her shoulders sagged a bit. “So, I’m a little tired.”

His response was obvious and immediate. “Then you should sleep, Natale. I’ll have Uberto come in the morning to review the information your father is preparing for us.”

She nodded and got up from the table, reaching for her plate. He covered her hand with his and saw the startled look in her eyes. “Leave the dishes, I have them.”

Natale blinked up at him. “You weren’t hired to do my dishes.”

He shrugged off the comment. “Go, get in bed, and I’ll sleep in one of the other bedrooms.”

She winced, her teeth clenched together. “There really isn’t another bedroom besides mine.”

His gaze narrowed in confusion. “The plans for your apartment,” he could see her shock that he’d checked on the layout of the apartment, “showed three bedrooms.”

“Three, yes,” she smiled and Salvatore struggled with the urge to pull her into his arms. It wasn't just his urge after all. It was his bear, as well. His bear wanted Natale. Wanted her naked and willing under him, over him, wrapped in his arms. But based on the look she was currently throwing in his direction, that wasn't going to happen anytime soon.

He was thankful that Natale couldn't hear his thoughts. She was too busy trying to explain herself to care. “It was built with three bedrooms, but I needed room for my design library and sewing machines,” she gave him a smile and nibbled on her bottom lip for a moment, “and my fabric. Remember while you were checking the rooms, you didn’t see beds in there, right?”

He nodded, but his focus was the pale line along her lip where her teeth had pressed into the full flesh, and it wasn’t just his bear that wanted to touch. He wanted to nibble on her lip, roll the flesh between his teeth, soothe the sting with his tongue.

He almost missed the fact that she was still talking.

“… I can get you a hotel room nearby-”

He didn’t think about a reaction, he just moved. A heartbeat later he was touching her, hands on her shoulders, his eyes searching her stunned expression.

“I'm staying here with you, Natale.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He could feel her breathe as if his lungs were the same as hers, connected somehow. It wasn't the only thing that he could feel. He was sure, deep in his chest where his heart beat out a frantic rhythm, that Natale Durante was his mate. The mate that he'd traveled through three countries to find.

He watched her blink back at him, and then nod. A slight bob of movement as she swallowed, and his eyes went straight to the pulse that throbbed just beneath her skin. And then the pale perfection of her flesh where her shoulder met the untouched column of her neck.

He licked his lips, almost tasting the sweet flavor of her skin, and his bear pushed forward, demanding a taste like a midnight snack.

“Fine.”

Her tone was slightly sharp, but he heard the breathy tone in her voice, felt the heat rising from her skin.

“You can stay here, but I’m the only one sleeping in my room.”

There was hesitation in her voice and he remembered her conversation with her assistant. Had Natale been joking about her interest in him? He felt a shove from within. His bear was upset, trying to move him to act and convince her to keep him closer. He knew he wouldn’t be able to push her into changing her mind and he didn’t want to. He’d take the time to seduce his mate, to have her wanting him close.

Tonight she was tired, her life was changing in ways she’d never considered before, and he was going to let her have her space.

Salvatore tugged her closer for a moment, felt the tension in her body. She was waiting to see what he was going to do. He didn’t feel fear radiating from her, but he had to be careful. She had to trust him, or this wouldn’t work.

And he needed it to work, because he needed to save her life. He moved closer and leaned down until his lips pressed against her forehead.

It was heaven. The heat of her body flared to match his as she leaned into his touch. If he’d had any doubt of what lay between them it was gone. His bear rose up in his consciousness, standing on his hind legs to look through Salvatore’s eyes and when he moved back from her he had to fight his bear to back down as well.

“Go,” he managed a single word, but knew that most of the voice that rumbled from his mouth was the bear.

She stepped back, stumbled a step by the door, her eyes still on him. He saw shoulders rise and fall, her breaths quick, her skin flushed, and he reveled in it like sunshine. She may not want his help, but she wanted him.

And that was as good a place to start as any.