I returned to the plane to find Tiago standing watch outside Bethy’s suite. He immediately tried to brief me on every detail that had happened with her during my absence, and while I appreciated his diligence, I’d no time for that. I only wanted highlights.

I didn’t want to waste another minute away from my mate.

Though I’d been gone for less than two hours, I was beside myself with the need to see her. Smell her. Confirm that she was all right.

And that all of this was finally real.

She looked like a mirage lying passed out on my king-sized bed, sprawled overtop the covers rather than beneath them. Her hair, still damp from her shower, fanned out like spun gold against the black silk pillowcase beneath it, and she was wearing a little pink striped robe—one of her own that we’d packed from her apartment. It was short and clingy, leaving her long, sinewy tanned legs on display—and very little else to the imagination.

Yet imagine I did.

My mouth watered. My cock strained against the confines of my clothing.

And my hand reached out of its own volition to touch her, needing to confirm that she was real, that she was flesh and bone within my grasp.

After so many years of imagining and fantasizing about a moment like this, I almost feared she’d vanish like mist when my fingertips brushed against her thigh.

But she didn’t.

She was real.

And I was a greedy, desperate bastard for her.

I reached for the belt of her robe, pulling the knot free and parting the material wrapped loosely around her. I told myself I just wanted a quick peek at her—to check her marks before I tucked her beneath the covers, where she’d be warmer and more comfortable.

But soon I was fingering those marks. Then my head bent to lick the ones I hadn’t healed well enough that morning. She moaned my name in her sleep, and that was all it took to fully awaken the beast in me.

I was already painfully hard, so when her hand lifted off the mattress and fell between her thighs, it took all my willpower not to pin it above her head and slam my cock into her in its place.

Fuck it. I’d never claimed to be a saint. I definitely hadn’t gotten where I was in life by always playing fair.

I vanished my clothing and climbed overtop her on the bed.

“Wake up, Bethy.” I nudged her legs farther apart with my knees as I moved between them. She didn’t stir.

Even in sleep, she was making those breathy noises I loved so much as her fingers groped clumsily between her wet folds. Her skin was flushed, her nipples diamond hard.

My canines extended and my eyes shifted as I scented how aroused she was. My inner wolf was clawing at me—demanding to fuck her.

As I watched her touch herself, I was close to losing it—overwhelmed with the need to take her.

But ramming into her like an animal would ruin my game. And Bethy was a prize worth any torture. I reminded myself that this was nothing compared to what I’d already endured for the past decade.

“Put them inside you, baby,” I whispered, taking hold of her hand and control of her fingers, directing two of them inside her. They were so slim, and her pussy so soaked, that they glided in easily. “There you go.”

I pumped them in and out, making sure the heel of her hand rubbed against her clit as I did so, working her up to a steady rhythm that had her panting and moaning continuously before I nudged her thighs wider apart and added a third finger.

Ignoring the fact I was leaking precum like a faucet and my balls felt so tight and heavy they might fall off, I focused on Bethy’s breathing, on the cadence of her moans, and on the staccato of her heartbeat, as I spurred her to the brink of orgasm—and then stopped short, halting her hand.

She made a disgruntled noise in the back of her throat and grumbled something about “bullshit dream sex.” Despite the agonizing pain in my balls, I found myself biting my lip to stifle laughter. If there’d been any remaining doubt, that was the moment I knew for certain I was irreversibly in love with Bethany Garrett.

Dipping my head, I kissed her cheek and murmured, “You need me inside you, angel. Say it. You have to tell me to fuck you if you want to come.”

I wanted to hear her panting, “Fuck me, Raul,” over and over, like she’d done in the club last night. God, I’d all but lost my mind when she’d done that.

After two more whispered prompts, she said it. And I rewarded her by sucking her nipples and using her fingers to bring her to the brink of orgasm once more. Then I stopped and got her to say it again.

I did this two more times, until the scent of her disappointment nearly eclipsed that of her arousal, and the pattern of her breathing indicated she was finally waking up, while mindlessly, she still chanted, “Fuck me, Raul.”

Quickly, I let go of her hand that was playing with her pussy and shifted into position, stretching out on my back on the side of the bed next to her free hand, which I then wrapped around my erection.

And, like a true gentleman, I pretended to be out cold as Bethany awoke to find that she’d been simultaneously fingering herself and stroking my dick in her sleep.