"Only when you make me wait," Dean replied, spreading his legs invitingly.
Arion shed his clothes with the slowness of a man aware of the hungry gaze of his mate. His dark shirt was opened first, revealing the hard planes of his chest and the defined muscles of his abdomen. Each button was a slow unveiling of the body Dean knew so well but still craved with an intensity that bordered on violence.
"Are you trying to kill me?" Dean's voice was rough, his knuckles white where he gripped the sheets.
Arion's mouth curved into that faint, infuriating smile. "Death is rarely this satisfying, Dean."
Dean was strongly considering tackling the alpha and straddling him, wiping that controlled expression off his face with a hard kiss and a demanding roll of his hips. The thought was a vivid image in his mind: pinning Arion to the mattress, the collar a cool weight against his own throat as he took his pleasure.
