Lord of the Wolfyn - By Jessica Andersen Page 0,40

shoulder, she let them fall to the floor, then brought her hands up to touch his waist, pressing her palms against the warm material of his shirt and feeling the hard strength of the man beneath.

He cupped her face in his palms in what she was coming to recognize as a habitual gesture for him—or maybe just between the two of them. Then he leaned in and kissed first one of her cheeks and then the other, then the corners of each of her eyes, which fluttered shut. She brought her hands up to grip his wrists, cuffing him in place as his lips skimmed over her face, teasing her, drawing out the anticipation of a kiss. Her blood heated sweetly, carrying a dangerous something that went deeper than lust. But at the same time, the churning desires brought by the dreams, the danger, the potions and the man himself were all mixed together now, becoming a single mating urge, a raw longing that knotted her inner muscles and brought moisture to dampen her skin.

Where only seconds before she had been cold with the realm’s sharp air, now she was overheated and tingling. Though he had said he couldn’t read her mind—and thank God for that—he shifted to ease her out of her leather bomber, freeing one shoulder at a time first, then sliding it down her arms, moving slowly and somehow mimicking the actions in his kiss.

Caught up in each individual sensation, she could only sway against him and make love to his mouth as he worked her out of her borrowed sweater and then her shirt, then conquered the clasp of her bra with only a brief fumble to betray the difference in technology. Then her breasts were bare to his touch, burning for it.

And they were really doing this. At the back of her brain there was a spark of shock, another of joy and an inner whisper of, Oh, yes.

She gasped at the first brush of a fingertip along the side of one breast, then the other. Suddenly craving the glory of skin on skin, she tugged his shirttails free and went to work on the buttons with fingers that trembled as he traced a tightening circle around one nipple and his touch ignited tiny detonations within her. Then his wide palms were covering her nipples, his long fingers shaping her breasts, and she moaned into his mouth at the hard, hot peaks of sensation that brought.

He growled something—maybe an oath, maybe her name—and kissed her again. And where before his kisses had been soft and restrained, a sort of gauzy and romantic foreplay, now his lips were hard on hers, his tongue demanding. And her body lit wildfire-bright in response.

This, she thought, yes. The past and future stopped mattering, stopped even existing as she kissed him back, throwing herself into the moment, into the man. Her hands shook as she got his shirt off his shoulders, his arms and sent it sailing to the floor atop their dropped bags. And then he urged her up against his body and they were suddenly, shockingly, skin on skin. His light furring of masculine hair feathered her senses as they twined together, kissing deeply, carnally.

“Gods and the Abyss,” he groaned against her mouth. “Reda.”

The raw need in his voice tugged at her, brought a prickle of tears that she willed away, focusing instead on the way her entire body throbbed in time with her heartbeat as she strained up against him, trying to increase the contact, only to be frustrated by their differences in height.

Again sensing what she couldn’t make herself say, he looped an arm around her waist and lifted her up against his body. She moaned as she brought her legs up around his waist to rub herself along the ridge of iron-hard cock hidden behind the barriers of his clothing, then again when he pressed her back against a nearby wall and pinned her there, kissing her deeply as he shaped her breasts with his big, gentle-rough hands and surged his hips against her in a rhythm that should have been familiar, but felt like nothing she had ever experienced before.

She touched his bare back and found parallel scar ridges that could only be claw marks, ran her hands up the lean, cable-tough muscles of his arms to his shoulders and felt him quiver beneath her touch, history and need melding together into a man who wasn’t like anyone she had ever met before, or