He could tell from her moves that she pictured herself as a ferocious feline. Now, as she wriggled, he could have told her how wrong she was. He was the feline, the cat, the predator. She was fragile, fighting, like some fluffed-up chick in her ridiculously bright plumage. And he was about to eat her. He pulled her in, close, her arms pinned between them. She butted him with her head, right in the chin, so his teeth clacked together.

Dammit!

Jake locked his fingers in her hair, and tilted her back, to see her face.

Experience told him she'd do anything--say anything now--to save herself.

It wasn't the message in her eyes.

Too proud to use him ... too proud to be used. Experience also told him he'd be a fool to read her that way. This was no time for whimsy.

But there was no doubt she was terrified and didn't know how to end this.

Jake did. He wrapped his arms around he and tilted her head back, fingers still trapped in her hair, so she couldn't slam him any more.

He was still within the bounds--nothing overstepped. Yet.

It was like watching himself from without. He could've stopped what came next--told himself to stop what came next...

...but didn't.

He lowered his lips, ever so slowly ... to hers.

She stiffened, and for just an instant, he wondered whether she was waiting to bite him.

He hesitated, the space of a breath, then brushed his lips against hers. He pulled back slightly, wondering how--if--she'd react.

She'd gone rigid once more, tense save for the panted breaths hot against his cheek.

That was when Jake decided to trust her.

What?! What's wrong with me?

It was obvious he couldn't trust himself.

Might as well trust someone.

His lips stole another kiss from her half-opened mouth.

This is wrong.

She stirred, and his body reacted. He was aroused--his own fault, for starting this, but he couldn't help it.

Nor was there any way the lady could have missed it. He was holding her so close.

Too close. He knew better than to make himself this vulnerable.

Too late.

"She has me exactly where she wants me." He recalled Marco's words of the day before. Jake also recalled thinking himself superior because Marco had been acting damned unprofessional.

Fate was doing its celestial balancing act. Karma, biting me in the ass.

He fought to focus, but somehow, all he could focus on was the warmth of her breaths, her touch, her lips.

The lady wasn't plastic. She was wax. She melted against him.

Damned wax. Fuel for a fire.

She was using him--she must be using him--and he fought against it, briefly, bravely, but she felt, smelled, tasted, so damn good. Molten. Hot.

He lowered his head again, waiting for the head-butt, the bite, the smashing.

It didn't come, and his kiss deepened. He didn't know where he was going with this, didn't know where they were going, but for the moment, he didn't care.