you, Mr. Wildes.” I pressed my lips to his ear. “I worship you.”
A desperate groan wrenched from his chest. He tangled his fingers in my hair, pulled my head back, and covered my mouth with his.
I wasn’t a schoolgirl. I’d never been prone to fits of euphoria. I knew lust was simply a psychological force producing an intense desire for an object, circumstance, or person.
So when his tongue dove past my lips and explored my mouth with exquisite precision, the fact that raw, unadulterated lust fueled my reaction didn’t lessen the impact of the adrenaline spike. Didn’t slow the acceleration of my pulse. Didn’t stop the flood of warmth between my legs. Didn’t make his kiss any less overwhelming. Any less exhilarating.
He released my hair and sent both hands in search of my breasts. In a move Houdini would’ve been proud of, he had the dress unbuttoned and off my shoulders and my bra on the ground at our feet in a matter of seconds. My breasts spilled into his hands.
He sucked in cool air between our mouths. The prickle of desire when his palms cupped the weight of them, when his thumbs brushed across my nipples was instantaneous.
His mouth left mine to trail scalding kisses across my jaw and down my neck, each one rippling through my body in rising quakes.
And suddenly, I was on the counter. Like lifting me had been effortless. Either he had enhanced strength due to his werewolf status, or I’d lost a crap-ton of weight while out.
He moved his hands back to my breasts and watched as he kneaded each one.
“Shirt,” I said, wanting to do the same to him.
With a quickness born of desire, he lifted his shirt over his head and returned to the task at hand. And there was nothing—nothing on Earth, above or below—as sexy as a shirtless man covered in ink, wearing a leather kilt and gazing at me like I was a bottle of bourbon and he was a connoisseur.
The art on his body was nothing short of haunting. A giant skull spanned the entire length of his torso, its eyes penetrating and surreal. The work that blanketed the rest of him was a combination of symbols and sayings and the edges of a map of old Salem.
The full map took up his entire back along with one giant symbol. A spell actually. The spell I’d used to create the magic that transformed him into what he was today. Somehow, he’d remembered it and drew it for his incredibly talented artist.
He licked his lips and pulled the lower one in through his teeth as he studied me. But he didn’t reach for my breasts again, to their great disappointment. Instead, he went for my knees.
He spread them. Slowly. Giving me time to think about the gravity of the situation. The significance of what we were doing. The reality of what more he wanted to do.
Anticipation thickened the air around me.
His hands slid up my thighs, and I clutched his sinuous forearms, but he didn’t stop until he got to my hips. Taking a firm grip, he wrenched me closer, molding me around him until I could feel the evidence of exactly how interested he was through the thin leather of his kilt.
When he leaned in, I wrapped my arms around his wide shoulders. Pressed my breasts against his chest. Covered his mouth with mine.
Curiously, I heard drawers being pulled out on either side of me.
Just when I was about to break the kiss and demand he put his hands back where they belonged, he lifted my legs. Taking an ankle in each hand, he gently placed each of my feet inside a drawer.
One was filled with dishtowels and the other with utensils. I couldn’t have cared less, because his hands traded their place at my feet for the space between my legs. Pulling aside my panties, he slid two long fingers inside me in one smooth thrust.
Gasping, I broke off the kiss. Buried my face against his neck and my hands in his hair. I grabbed fistfuls of auburn locks and pulled. Wanting more. Willing to beg for it. How long had it been since I’d felt this way? Never. Honestly, before him. Never.
He put his mouth to my ear and said, “Spread your legs, Ms. Dayne.” Wetting his fingers, he pulled out to circle my clit, the process painfully slow and deliciously precise, sending out vibrations that rocked me to the core. He dipped his fingers again.
I