Werewolves in Love 3: Ready to Run by Kinsey Holley Page B
Authors: Kinsey Holley
Tags: mf
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soft nibble on her bottom lip, he broke the kiss.
They stared at each other a minute, her gaze locked on his mouth. She couldn’t look in his eyes, but she could catch their expression in her peripheral vision, and she knew his gaze was hungry. A hot knot of excitement was forming in her stomach. When he started to draw his hand away, she surprised herself by grabbing it, holding it against her thigh. His eyebrows shot up and his smile got wider.
“Al righty , then,” TJ drawled. “Hey! Can we get the check over here? Like, right now?”
Chapter Seven
His body was a live wire, sparking everywhere she touched him. His chest, with her arms wrapped around him, his back, with the length of her body pressed against it, his thighs, cradled between hers, all sizzled in the muggy Houston night as they zoomed toward home. His mind conjured sweetly torturous images of her hands moving over his stomach and sliding between his legs to cup his cock, now rock-hard and straining against his jeans.
Sucking face in the middle of Cowgirls was one thing. Sara didn’t seem the type to give handjobs on a freeway. Besides, that was no way to drive a motorcycle.
Climbing the stairs to the second floor of his condo, where the kitchen and living room were located, she stumbled a little. He raced to catch her, and she giggled as he pulled her back and buried his face in her hair.
“You’re fast,” she murmured.
“Mmm. I’m a werewolf.” The nape of her neck tasted tender and sweet, her stomach taut and warm through the thin softness of her cotton shirt. She twisted and flexed in his arms as his fingers skimmed inside the waist of her blue jeans. He carefully turned her around to face him.
“Put your arms around my neck and lift your feet.”
“Okay, but why—? Whee !”
With one arm tightly around her waist, he went wolf-speed up the stairs and plunked her down on the island in middle of the kitchen as she panted and laughed.
He dragged his fingers through the mass of silky red hair, pulling it back from her face so he could gaze at her, and she quit laughing.
“I can’t ever look you in the eyes, can I?” she asked quietly.
“No.”
“Because you’re an alpha and I’m not your mate.”
“Right. Does that bother you?”
“I don’t know.” Her eyes were downcast, her hands restlessly stroking his arms. “It’s—it’s very unusual for a werewolf to find a mate, right?”
“Right. Extremely. As in, most werewolves never do.”
They didn’t need to have this conversation right now. Hooking his thumbs in the belt loops at the back of her jeans, he pulled her hard against him and heard her breath catch in her throat as he pressed her legs around his waist. He dragged his hands slowly over the smooth, worn denim on the tops of her legs until his thumbs met at the hot juncture of her thighs. She closed her eyes and took a deep, unsteady breath, her hands tightening on his face. Closely watching her expression, he pushed ever so gently against the seam of her crotch and was rewarded with a soft gasp. Her eyes flew open.
“Bryan, I—”
Before she could say anything else, he took her mouth, plunging his tongue into the sweet, soft recesses, and she squeezed his hand tightly between her legs and flexed against him. He reached up to run a thumb across her nipple. She rewarded him with the sweetest sigh. Her hands clutched at his biceps as if for support and her mouth trembled against his.
He was so hard he couldn’t stand it, his hips grinding against her with a will of their own, and he felt like a teenager standing there humping helplessly against the island, but he didn’t want to move, didn’t want to break contact long enough to pick her up and take her to his bedroom. If he’d known back in Luxor how good she’d taste, how sweet and hot and tender she’d feel as she slowly came apart in his hands, he never would’ve asked her out in the first place.
As much as he liked her, as much as he admired
They stared at each other a minute, her gaze locked on his mouth. She couldn’t look in his eyes, but she could catch their expression in her peripheral vision, and she knew his gaze was hungry. A hot knot of excitement was forming in her stomach. When he started to draw his hand away, she surprised herself by grabbing it, holding it against her thigh. His eyebrows shot up and his smile got wider.
“Al righty , then,” TJ drawled. “Hey! Can we get the check over here? Like, right now?”
Chapter Seven
His body was a live wire, sparking everywhere she touched him. His chest, with her arms wrapped around him, his back, with the length of her body pressed against it, his thighs, cradled between hers, all sizzled in the muggy Houston night as they zoomed toward home. His mind conjured sweetly torturous images of her hands moving over his stomach and sliding between his legs to cup his cock, now rock-hard and straining against his jeans.
Sucking face in the middle of Cowgirls was one thing. Sara didn’t seem the type to give handjobs on a freeway. Besides, that was no way to drive a motorcycle.
Climbing the stairs to the second floor of his condo, where the kitchen and living room were located, she stumbled a little. He raced to catch her, and she giggled as he pulled her back and buried his face in her hair.
“You’re fast,” she murmured.
“Mmm. I’m a werewolf.” The nape of her neck tasted tender and sweet, her stomach taut and warm through the thin softness of her cotton shirt. She twisted and flexed in his arms as his fingers skimmed inside the waist of her blue jeans. He carefully turned her around to face him.
“Put your arms around my neck and lift your feet.”
“Okay, but why—? Whee !”
With one arm tightly around her waist, he went wolf-speed up the stairs and plunked her down on the island in middle of the kitchen as she panted and laughed.
He dragged his fingers through the mass of silky red hair, pulling it back from her face so he could gaze at her, and she quit laughing.
“I can’t ever look you in the eyes, can I?” she asked quietly.
“No.”
“Because you’re an alpha and I’m not your mate.”
“Right. Does that bother you?”
“I don’t know.” Her eyes were downcast, her hands restlessly stroking his arms. “It’s—it’s very unusual for a werewolf to find a mate, right?”
“Right. Extremely. As in, most werewolves never do.”
They didn’t need to have this conversation right now. Hooking his thumbs in the belt loops at the back of her jeans, he pulled her hard against him and heard her breath catch in her throat as he pressed her legs around his waist. He dragged his hands slowly over the smooth, worn denim on the tops of her legs until his thumbs met at the hot juncture of her thighs. She closed her eyes and took a deep, unsteady breath, her hands tightening on his face. Closely watching her expression, he pushed ever so gently against the seam of her crotch and was rewarded with a soft gasp. Her eyes flew open.
“Bryan, I—”
Before she could say anything else, he took her mouth, plunging his tongue into the sweet, soft recesses, and she squeezed his hand tightly between her legs and flexed against him. He reached up to run a thumb across her nipple. She rewarded him with the sweetest sigh. Her hands clutched at his biceps as if for support and her mouth trembled against his.
He was so hard he couldn’t stand it, his hips grinding against her with a will of their own, and he felt like a teenager standing there humping helplessly against the island, but he didn’t want to move, didn’t want to break contact long enough to pick her up and take her to his bedroom. If he’d known back in Luxor how good she’d taste, how sweet and hot and tender she’d feel as she slowly came apart in his hands, he never would’ve asked her out in the first place.
As much as he liked her, as much as he admired
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