Werewolf in Denver by Vicki Lewis Thompson

breast. “Mm.”
    “Lovely sound, that.” He teased her nipple with the pad of his thumb. “I’ve wanted to touch you ever since you took off your red coat and I saw your breasts outlined under that black angora.”
    She gripped his shoulder and closed her eyes as his caress made her quiver. “I thought it started with the book,” she murmured.
    He slid his hand down her rib cage and brushed his knuckles lightly over her tummy. “I think it started with your first post on my blog.”
    She opened her eyes and gazed into his. “Really? When I called you a pigheaded radical with your head up your ass?”
    He smiled at her. “Aye.”
    “You read that and wanted to get me naked?”
    “Aye. You’re passionate in your beliefs.” His caress moved lower, teasing her moist curls with the very tips of his fingers. “That’s very sexy. I thought you’d be passionate in other ways, too.”
    Anticipation made her breathe faster. She knew his destination and she yearned for his touch there. Desperately she tried to keep track of what he was saying. It could be important, but oh…if he would only…
    She squeezed her eyes shut again. “So you came to Denver knowing that you intended to—”
    “Nay. Don’t think that.” Those clever fingers danced along her inner thigh, tracing patterns in the moisture there. “I didn’t admit any of it to myself. I only thought I was learning all I could about the enemy. It’s only now that I understand why I was so fascinated by you.”
    That helped. She gazed at him, needing to reassure herself that this wasn’t the endgame of some elaborate scheme to seduce the leader of the Howlers.
    “I’m not that kind of Were, Kate. I hope you believe me.” His touch became less random. The pad of his middle finger sought out her most sensitive spot.
    When he made contact, she gasped. “You’re…very persuasive.”
    “Passion drew me to you.” He began a slow, deliberate massage of that trigger point. “And I think…it drew you to me.”
    She moaned softly. “Duncan…”
    “We have that in common, lass.” His touch remained slow but relentless as he built her response with a single-mindedness that unraveled all her defenses.
    “Yes.” She trembled as her body prepared for theclimax he was creating with only the pad of one finger and the music of his brogue.
    “Whatever happens, the passion will still be there. There are no factions here. Just us.”
    “Yes.” Her breath caught as the first wave hit. “Yes.” The explosion came, wracking her body as if he’d covered every inch of it with his kisses.
    And then he did cover her with kisses. Moving over her, he touched down with his mouth and tongue on her breasts, her arms, and her thighs as she shook with pleasure. Last of all, he held her hips still, parted her thighs, and buried that elegant cock deep within her.
    As he thrust with the same deliberate surety he’d used when touching her with only one finger, a second wave gathered. She rose to meet him stroke for stroke and reached for the glory he seemed so willing to bestow on her.
    His breathing roughened. “Look up,” he said, panting.
    She’d forgotten the mirror. Gazing above their heads, she watched in fascination as the muscles of his back, buttocks, and thighs propelled him forward again and again. They were both covered in rainbows, but he more than her. Seeing him ravish her so thoroughly while she felt each powerful thrust brought her quickly to the brink of total surrender.
    Arching up against him, she cried out his name as her world shattered into a million pieces of rainbow-colored crystal. Through eyes glazed with pleasure, she watched him rock forward once more before he groaned and his big body shuddered in the grip of his own orgasm. His spasms rippled within her as he filled her with liquid warmth.
    Gasping for breath, she continued to gaze upward. She made herself concentrate on the image of their bodies locked together while colored light