And when it did land in her lap, he was going to save her life by—

“I was angry because I felt cheated,” she whispered. “If I didn’t . . .”

Now he was the one staring at her mouth. And fucking hell, there were so many reasons not to go down the road that was appearing before them, yet again. But . . .

“Say it,” he commanded.

“If I didn’t know what you were like.”

On a surge of sexual heat, Sahvage reached out and touched her face again, letting his fingertips drift along her jaw and then travel down to the flickering pulse at the side of her throat.

“You mean, as a dinner companion?” he said. “Or were you thinking of something more . . . engaging? Like chess.”

Mae sputtered a laugh. “Seriously.”

“Parcheesi?” He tilted forward and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “I already know Monopoly puts you to sleep.”

Mae leaned into him, and he felt her hand on his shoulder—but not to push him away. She held on to him.

“I want just want to be with you.” As he went to say something, she put her finger on his lips to silence him. “I know it doesn’t change anything. I know you’re going to leave when this is all over. But I keep thinking . . . here I am, determined to bring my brother back—but what kind of life am I leading? All I do is work and worry. And the two people who made me swear to never have sex before I was mated have been gone for how many years? Three? What exactly am I waiting for? When is the next dog cage coming for me—and what will I be angry about not having done then?”

“I need you to know something,” he said in a rough voice.

Mae dropped her arm sharply. And he put it right back where it was.

“If I could be different, I would be—for you,” he told her. “And in the future, if you ever doubt how important you are, just think of me. I promise that I’ll be somewhere on the planet . . . thinking about how special you are, and wishing things were different.”

“You have that all backward.” She cupped her hand over his own. “You’re going to forget me and I’m going to be the one missing you.”

As he went to speak, she shook her head. “It’s okay. I am forgettable.”

“Don’t say that—”

“I am one of a thousand civilian females, out of her transition, but not in the decline of old age, living in a simple house, working a regular job. I worry about which day is trash day, and whether I’ve recycled enough. I get tangled in my own head in front of the vegetables at Hannaford when I can’t figure out what to eat. My car is ten years—well, was ten years old. I snore on my back, have bad dreams if I’m overtired, and miss the feel of the sun on my face, even though it’s been decades since I could go out at noontime.” She laughed in a cold rush. “Even the demon said I’m not bad-looking, but hardly worth crossing the street for—”

Sahvage kissed her. Because he wanted to. Because he hated what she was saying about herself. Because she didn’t get it.

Even if all those supposedly average vital statistics were true, she was still unforgettable.

To him.

When it came to being a legend, all it took was one person to recognize that you were epic. That was it.

• • •

As Sahvage’s mouth moved over Mae’s with gentle demand, she knew she’d annoyed him with her reality check—except she was right about all it.

No reason to argue, though. Not while he was . . .

As his tongue licked into her, she put her arms around his shoulders, ready for so much more. Yet he eased back, their mouths parting with a soft sound.

“Mae . . .”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. Spare me the I-know-best, especially when it comes to me losing my v—”

“I’ll make it good for you,” he whispered. “I promise. That’s all.”

When he kissed her again, the door to her bedroom shut of its own volition, willed by him, not her. And as her eyes adjusted, she felt like she could feel the heat in his gaze, even though she couldn’t really see him. Then again, everything felt hot.

And she’d thought she’d missed the sun? Sahvage had brought it to her, not by hanging it over her head, but by putting it into her veins.

Mae was the one who lay back, and he came with her, keeping their lips together. Except as all he did was keep kissing her, she once again became impatient. So she took one of his hands and moved it onto her breast—

With a groan, she arched up to him, and he did exactly what she was hoping he would. He caressed her through her clothes, skating over her rib cage, going down to her hip, returning to where she was so sensitive. He made that route over and over again, soothing her, stroking her.

Just as she was wondering if she was going to have to take her own clothes off, he slipped his hand under her fleece, under her turtleneck. As he made contact with her skin, she groaned again. His hand was so broad, so warm, so calloused. A very male hand.

The only male hand to touch her like this.

Slowly, he moved upward, and when he got to her bra, he stopped. His thumb went back and forth a couple of times . . . and then he was under the sensible cotton cup, pushing it up.

“Sahvage,” she gasped.

Her skin was hypersensitive, and he knew where to rub, what to stroke, when to pinch. Her nipples strained, the hard tips tingling for more of what he was giving her, and her whole body went boneless.

“Please . . .”

“Please what,” he said into her mouth. “What do you want?”

“More.”

And that was how she became half naked. With a quick shift and an up-and-over, her top layers were off—

He was the one who groaned now. “You’re so beautiful.”

Mae looked down at herself. Her bra was cockeyed, one cup down, the other popped over, causing that breast to puff out, the nipple so very prominent.

The front fastening popped under his fingertips, and then the constriction was completely gone. The pink tips of her breasts were so tight, so high, and before she could get embarrassed about staring at herself, Sahvage was kissing her neck. Her collarbone. Her sternum.

Spearing her hands into his hair, she found her hips rolling, her legs sawing, her sex hungry for him.

When he captured her with his mouth, sucking, licking, kissing, he shifted so that he was lying in between her legs. Perfect. She used his body to work herself on, the pressure of him, the weight, the size, making her pant as she rubbed her core against his contours.

It was so perfect.

And if the actual moment they were joined was anything like this?

No wonder people did crazy stuff for good sex—

Abruptly, he lifted his head and cursed. “You’re killing me, Mae—”

“How? What am I doing wrong—”

“You’re doing everything too right.”

“Don’t stop.”

So he didn’t.

And when he lifted himself up off her naked breasts, and his hands went to her waistband, she rushed to help him, even though he knew what he was doing. The tugging and pulling as he undid the button on her jeans and unzipped the zipper moved things in a really good direction, and then he was pulling the legs down, peeling them off her thighs.

He took her panties with them as he went.