rhythm no woman had ever gifted him with before. It was all he could do to hold back a tremble and eventually pull away. This night was about her, not him. He kissed her deep and long then eased her back. His heart was racing at the sight of her, laid out before him like a feast.
His wolf licked his lips.
Her, not you,
he told the beast.
Sure, man. Anything you say.
He kneeled before her and fluttered kisses down her body, all the way down to her mound. She was holding her breath, and hell, he was too, at the threshold to her private world. He spread her wide, and what was intended as a gentle kiss turned into a greedy lick when the flavor of her rocketed through his nerves. He circled the nub of her clit then sucked. Hard.
A spasm went through her, and though her eyes were shining with surprise when he glanced up, she spread her legs wider, begging for more. He wanted to freeze the moment in a mental picture, right there. Right on her needing him as badly as he needed her. No woman had ever looked at him like that. Lust, yes. Aroused, hell yeah. But need—actual life-or-death need, like he was her air, her water, her sustenance—that was a first.
Why that didn’t terrify him, he had no idea.
He pushed all thought away because this night was about instinct, after all. His tongue pushed deeper and deeper while her inner muscles tried to catch it the way she’d clamped around his cock before. It might have made him laugh if he hadn’t been so tuned in to the little noises she made, telling him he was the first to earn the privilege of such an intimate touch.
The first. The last. His wolf made an oath, there and then. No man would ever touch this woman again. No one but him. Just like he had no further need for any woman but her.
The idea drove him to take her higher, higher, before letting her erupt in pleasure around him.
“Kyle! Yes!” When she gasped and writhed in the grips of a mighty orgasm, his blood sang.
By the time he got her to his bed, the ache in his cock was a burn. She fell right into place under him, her legs wrapped high around his waist. He plunged home again and again, groaning out loud. She was just the right size: snug around his cock and deep as an ocean, or so it seemed. She was straining for something off the charts, something beyond the physical, and part of him was making crazy inner vows to chase down exactly what that was and bring it to her like a gift.
He glanced down, following the hard center line of her abs to the point where his cock was buried in her. He pulled back a little, just to remind himself they were two and not one. He watched, fascinated, until nothing registered but her nails on his back and the heat winding around the two of them, and they were both flying, flying, gone. He closed his eyes through the height of his pounding climax, wondering where it would end: a soft landing in a place called home, or a sudden crash into the briar patch of regret.
When he collapsed into the pillow and pulled Stef close, her body molded to his in slow, comfortable degrees. He wondered how—why—this could be. He’d gotten drunk around women. Gotten drunk with women. But never, ever had he gotten drunk on a woman—on her scent, her shape, her sensuality. The way she touched him, guided him, pleasured him… It was as if they’d been together many times before. He couldn’t doubt this is how they belonged: together.
And yet he knew that night had a way of playing tricks on a man, and daylight could cast an awfully harsh spotlight on mornings-after. The next time Kyle opened his eyes, the sun was peeking over the horizon. He reached an arm out to tug Stef closer, but she was gone.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Stef sat on a hilltop, picking at the fraying denim of the jeans she’d slipped on before stealing out of Kyle’s house. Shafts of pale yellow and pink slanted over the horizon. The colors of fear and regret. She hung her head in her arms and
His wolf licked his lips.
Her, not you,
he told the beast.
Sure, man. Anything you say.
He kneeled before her and fluttered kisses down her body, all the way down to her mound. She was holding her breath, and hell, he was too, at the threshold to her private world. He spread her wide, and what was intended as a gentle kiss turned into a greedy lick when the flavor of her rocketed through his nerves. He circled the nub of her clit then sucked. Hard.
A spasm went through her, and though her eyes were shining with surprise when he glanced up, she spread her legs wider, begging for more. He wanted to freeze the moment in a mental picture, right there. Right on her needing him as badly as he needed her. No woman had ever looked at him like that. Lust, yes. Aroused, hell yeah. But need—actual life-or-death need, like he was her air, her water, her sustenance—that was a first.
Why that didn’t terrify him, he had no idea.
He pushed all thought away because this night was about instinct, after all. His tongue pushed deeper and deeper while her inner muscles tried to catch it the way she’d clamped around his cock before. It might have made him laugh if he hadn’t been so tuned in to the little noises she made, telling him he was the first to earn the privilege of such an intimate touch.
The first. The last. His wolf made an oath, there and then. No man would ever touch this woman again. No one but him. Just like he had no further need for any woman but her.
The idea drove him to take her higher, higher, before letting her erupt in pleasure around him.
“Kyle! Yes!” When she gasped and writhed in the grips of a mighty orgasm, his blood sang.
By the time he got her to his bed, the ache in his cock was a burn. She fell right into place under him, her legs wrapped high around his waist. He plunged home again and again, groaning out loud. She was just the right size: snug around his cock and deep as an ocean, or so it seemed. She was straining for something off the charts, something beyond the physical, and part of him was making crazy inner vows to chase down exactly what that was and bring it to her like a gift.
He glanced down, following the hard center line of her abs to the point where his cock was buried in her. He pulled back a little, just to remind himself they were two and not one. He watched, fascinated, until nothing registered but her nails on his back and the heat winding around the two of them, and they were both flying, flying, gone. He closed his eyes through the height of his pounding climax, wondering where it would end: a soft landing in a place called home, or a sudden crash into the briar patch of regret.
When he collapsed into the pillow and pulled Stef close, her body molded to his in slow, comfortable degrees. He wondered how—why—this could be. He’d gotten drunk around women. Gotten drunk with women. But never, ever had he gotten drunk on a woman—on her scent, her shape, her sensuality. The way she touched him, guided him, pleasured him… It was as if they’d been together many times before. He couldn’t doubt this is how they belonged: together.
And yet he knew that night had a way of playing tricks on a man, and daylight could cast an awfully harsh spotlight on mornings-after. The next time Kyle opened his eyes, the sun was peeking over the horizon. He reached an arm out to tug Stef closer, but she was gone.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Stef sat on a hilltop, picking at the fraying denim of the jeans she’d slipped on before stealing out of Kyle’s house. Shafts of pale yellow and pink slanted over the horizon. The colors of fear and regret. She hung her head in her arms and
Similar Books
