clothing. The neck of the shirt was open in a V, letting him catch a glimpse of the curve of her breasts. She wasn’t wearing a bra and her breasts swayed gently with each step she took. He licked his lips, still able to taste her cream, and it made him hard.
She hesitated for the briefest of moments when she entered the room, but then her chin went up and she squared her shoulders. Pride filled Jacque as she studied the other men in the room. He knew she was cataloging their appearance and committing details to memory. He’d have done the same.
Her blonde hair was damp from her bath and had curled slightly at her nape. He wanted to play with the golden locks while he nibbled on the curve of her neck. The muscles in his legs clenched and his balls tightened.
She smiled at Louis and Jacque wanted to punch his brother in the mouth when the bastard went to her and took her hand in his. “How are you feeling, chère ?”
“Much better, thank you.”
Louis touched the small bandage on her head and trailed his fingers over the bruises on her face. Jacque took a step toward his brother, intending to pound some sense into him.
Gwen’s smile wobbled and she took a step back. Louis’s hand fell back to his side, and Jacque heaved a sigh, pulling the tattered remains of his control around him. This wasn’t like him at all. He didn’t like not being in control of himself and his environment.
“Gwen, I want you to meet Cole Blanchard and Gator Rollins.” He indicated the two men who were watching her so avidly. “Cole is the large one and Gator is—”
“The good-looking one,” Gator interrupted. He stood and offered his hand. “Pleased to meet you.”
Gwen stared at Gator, glanced over at Jacque, and then took the proffered hand. “Nice to meet you.”
Jacque could see Gwen was conflicted about shaking Gator’s hand, but curiosity won out. After all, they had kidnapped her. Somehow he had to get her past that. His chest tightened and his heart began to race as he realized what it was he wanted from Gwen. He wanted her to want him. Hell, he wanted her to love him. And wasn’t that a kick in the ass.
With his people, attraction was everything. Didn’t matter if you loved someone. If the animal attraction was there and the chemistry was right, you mated. But Jacque wanted more than that.
He had far too many memories of his mother’s sad eyes and fading beauty, clothed in worn housedresses more suited to a woman from fifty years ago. She was a gentile lady with refined tastes, while his father was rough and uncouth. He hadn’t even tried to accommodate his wife but had done his best to kill any spirit she might have possessed. Jacque didn’t want that to happen to Gwen.
Not that it was likely to happen. Gwen possessed a courage that few humans or even werewolves did. She’d stood up to them, not panicking and assessing all opportunities as they arose. She’d tried to bail out of his truck on the trip here, but he sensed she was now biding her time and getting the lay of the land while she got stronger.
She’d taken the entire kidnapping in stride, doing her best to escape. Even now, he knew she was thinking up ways to get her life back as it was. But that wasn’t going to happen and he had to make her understand that option was no longer available to her, and not just because he wanted her.
She had a target painted on her back, thanks to Hector Canton’s indiscretion and Pierre LaForge’s hatred. There would be many who would stop at nothing to kill her.
Jacque was under no illusion that because she’d allowed him to touch her, to intimately taste her body, it was an indication she’d given up. He understood the basic need to taste life when death blew its icy breath down your spine. She’d wanted to feel alive and sex was the most basic way to achieve that.
But it was more to him than simple biology. Much more. Gwen was quickly becoming a fire in his blood, a gnawing ache in his body, a craving
She hesitated for the briefest of moments when she entered the room, but then her chin went up and she squared her shoulders. Pride filled Jacque as she studied the other men in the room. He knew she was cataloging their appearance and committing details to memory. He’d have done the same.
Her blonde hair was damp from her bath and had curled slightly at her nape. He wanted to play with the golden locks while he nibbled on the curve of her neck. The muscles in his legs clenched and his balls tightened.
She smiled at Louis and Jacque wanted to punch his brother in the mouth when the bastard went to her and took her hand in his. “How are you feeling, chère ?”
“Much better, thank you.”
Louis touched the small bandage on her head and trailed his fingers over the bruises on her face. Jacque took a step toward his brother, intending to pound some sense into him.
Gwen’s smile wobbled and she took a step back. Louis’s hand fell back to his side, and Jacque heaved a sigh, pulling the tattered remains of his control around him. This wasn’t like him at all. He didn’t like not being in control of himself and his environment.
“Gwen, I want you to meet Cole Blanchard and Gator Rollins.” He indicated the two men who were watching her so avidly. “Cole is the large one and Gator is—”
“The good-looking one,” Gator interrupted. He stood and offered his hand. “Pleased to meet you.”
Gwen stared at Gator, glanced over at Jacque, and then took the proffered hand. “Nice to meet you.”
Jacque could see Gwen was conflicted about shaking Gator’s hand, but curiosity won out. After all, they had kidnapped her. Somehow he had to get her past that. His chest tightened and his heart began to race as he realized what it was he wanted from Gwen. He wanted her to want him. Hell, he wanted her to love him. And wasn’t that a kick in the ass.
With his people, attraction was everything. Didn’t matter if you loved someone. If the animal attraction was there and the chemistry was right, you mated. But Jacque wanted more than that.
He had far too many memories of his mother’s sad eyes and fading beauty, clothed in worn housedresses more suited to a woman from fifty years ago. She was a gentile lady with refined tastes, while his father was rough and uncouth. He hadn’t even tried to accommodate his wife but had done his best to kill any spirit she might have possessed. Jacque didn’t want that to happen to Gwen.
Not that it was likely to happen. Gwen possessed a courage that few humans or even werewolves did. She’d stood up to them, not panicking and assessing all opportunities as they arose. She’d tried to bail out of his truck on the trip here, but he sensed she was now biding her time and getting the lay of the land while she got stronger.
She’d taken the entire kidnapping in stride, doing her best to escape. Even now, he knew she was thinking up ways to get her life back as it was. But that wasn’t going to happen and he had to make her understand that option was no longer available to her, and not just because he wanted her.
She had a target painted on her back, thanks to Hector Canton’s indiscretion and Pierre LaForge’s hatred. There would be many who would stop at nothing to kill her.
Jacque was under no illusion that because she’d allowed him to touch her, to intimately taste her body, it was an indication she’d given up. He understood the basic need to taste life when death blew its icy breath down your spine. She’d wanted to feel alive and sex was the most basic way to achieve that.
But it was more to him than simple biology. Much more. Gwen was quickly becoming a fire in his blood, a gnawing ache in his body, a craving
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