Rogue Wolf by Heather Long

lesson turned devastating to his senses at his first sweet taste of her. Heat blazed through him as her mouth opened. Daring her teeth, he stroked his tongue along hers. Cupping her chin in his hand had been an act to keep her from escaping, one rapidly escalating to much more as he savored the smoothness of her skin. The growl reverberating in her throat wasn’t one of rejection.
    She scraped her teeth over his lower lip. He tilted his head, changing the angle of the kiss to delve deeper in a demand for her to join him in the play. Her gasp stroked his pride, and her claws threatened his arms when she gripped his biceps. Threatened, but she never sank them into him. Craving her acquiescence, he tangled their tongues together—a battle for supremacy as she tried to change the nature of the kiss.
    Backing her into the wall, he half-lifted her until he was her only support, him and the fusion of their mouths.
    Hitching her thighs to his hips, she sank her fingers into his hair and fisted it. Her actions provided the answer he needed. She wanted him, too.
    Need surged through him, riding the electricity of the kiss. Freeing one of her hands from his hair, he pinned the wrist to the wall. The second pulled out some of his hair when he tugged it away, yet the pain both amplified the primitive need consuming him and brought clarity.
    Locking her hands together, he raised his head and gazed at her flushed cheeks. Her golden eyes held a sensual intensity and the drum of her heart matched his. Her soft breasts pressed against his chest while the muscles in her legs clenched where they fastened around his waist. The heat at the cradle of her legs beckoned to him and he considered the myriad of ways he could rip her clothes out of the way. Giving in to the need to plunder and sate the beast was a provocative idea.
    With a growl, she flexed her muscles and her thighs tightened, dragging him closer. Keeping her wrists captive took strength, but then so did her effort to kiss him yet she still managed to catch his mouth. Hunger speared through him and his wolf swept forward. It wanted a taste of this fierce woman. He sank his teeth into her lip, just enough to draw blood, and then lapped at the injury. Keeping her wrists pinned with one hand, he glided his fingers down her arm to her chest then squeezed one breast. The nipple peaked beneath her shirt as though eager for his caress.
    Drunk on her arousal or not, he had to end their little bacio . Lust punched him and the violent pulse of her heart rate at the juncture of her throat and shoulder beckoned. He wanted to flip her around, press her face to the wall and satisfy this battle of wills once and for all. One intense, furious fuck to ease them both, but the time spent traveling, his worry for his sister, and the irritation at being in another’s territory coupled with her blatant challenge made it more about power than pleasure.
    Exactly why he refused to proceed. Margo’s eyelids dipped. Dominant or not, her animal rode her brutally and her need cried out for him to pleasure her until they were both blind from it. But that was their animals. The woman would be far more elusive, and it wasn’t the wolf who needed the lesson.
    Summoning his will, he pulled his mouth from hers. With great care, he touched his tongue to the tip of her nose then marked a line upward. She shuddered. Touch starved—a distant part of his brain recognized the symptoms. A wolf too long away from others, too focused on keeping her distance, and she hurt from it. Fury at her foolishness collided with his very real need to take care of her. He nuzzled a path across her eyelids then to her cheek. Nibbling tiny kisses against her jaw, he continued to massage her breast—the action equal parts erotic and comforting. Hell rained on his control as he kept his lust in check. Her wolf needed the contact and, if he were a gambling man, he would say the woman did as well.
    Catching her earlobe between his teeth, he