Gone with the Wolf - By Kristin Miller Page 0,25

breath—two sugars, one hazelnut cream. She’d taste just as sweet without the additives, Drake knew firsthand. “The deed to the Porter Street property that you have in your possession is fake, docu-edited, and worthless. Wilder Financial will hold the true deed in good hands until you’re in a better position to make an offer.”

There. He did it. Laid all the facts on the table.

“I have the deed to my building back at my bar, and believe me, it’s legit.” Disdain darkened Emelia’s eyes to deep-sea blue. She swayed against him as if the ground beneath her feet wobbled, then pulled back. “If you want me to drive across town and get it, just so you can see that it’s the real deal, I can.”

Somehow, the energy crackling between them flipped on a dime. Anger turned to something fiercely sexual, a hunger that clawed its way through him. As the temperature elevated from heated to scorching, Emelia swayed into him once more, nearly pressing against his chest. Drake fought the urge to kiss her, to taste the fire of her words and feel the spark on her skin. If Drake didn’t release some tension soon—either by kissing her or kicking her out of the building—he was liable to spontaneously combust.

Drake didn’t want Emelia to move a single inch, let alone drive across town to retrieve her fake deed. He wanted her to stay right where she was, a breath away from him, lips pouting in annoyance, cheeks flushing in anger. He wanted to piss her off and bottle the outpouring of emotion. She was different from him in every way—passionate where Drake was levelheaded, soft and curvy where he was achingly hard.

The wolf inside Drake shivered and shook, trembling with deep-rooted desire. It demanded to bond with Emelia, to claim what was rightfully his.

Mine.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Emelia’s plump lips quirked.

“Like what?”

“Like you want to eat me.”

Ah, hell.

Now all Drake could think about was how the most intimate part of her body would taste. He went rock hard at the thought of sliding his fingers through her rich cream, then suckling them into his mouth. Drake could sense excitement spreading through Emelia like a blush, as if the shudder rushing through her were his own. He could almost feel her hot, velvety center on his tongue. Impulses to rip the clothes from her body and bend her over the desk shot like liquid fire through his veins.

One kiss would quench the fire burning inside him. They wouldn’t sleep together—he wouldn’t let it get that far. At least not until she knew what he was, and what place she could have in his world. But he couldn’t stand here, enveloped in Emelia’s scent, drunk on the sight of her lips and the smoldering behind her eyes, without sampling a sliver of the forbidden fruit.

One taste wouldn’t hurt anything.

“You’re not Little Red anymore,” Drake said, his voice scratchy and deep, sounding strange to his own ears. “I’ll only eat you if you ask me to.”

Emelia gasped, her sapphire eyes blazing with dark desire. It was all the invitation he needed. He yanked her into his arms and branded a kiss on her mouth. The primal instincts bubbling inside him caught fire from the impact as his tongue darted past her lips and explored the warm, wet recesses of her mouth. He drank her in, sucking the sweetness from her lips.

“Emelia,” he whispered, savoring the chills gathering at the base of his spine. “You’re going to drive me crazy.”

She smiled and nipped at his bottom lip. “About time.”

She crashed into him then, from lips to hips. Looping her arms around his neck, Emelia dug her fingers through Drake’s hair and deepened the kiss, pressing her breasts against his chest until their bodies couldn’t be any closer without joining as one.

Hard rods of lust speared through Drake’s gut, shattering his intentions and sense of duty. He needed to tell her that he was a werewolf, an Alpha, before she got too deeply involved. She should know what could happen if they slept together. But none of that mattered. Not in this moment. Barbs of pure white heat crackled through every vein, throbbed through every muscle, and drew his erection painfully tight.

He hadn’t imagined the spark behind Emelia’s kiss in the cellar, though he tried to convince himself he had. Emelia was a tidal wave of scorching heat, her mouth a heaven that Drake explored with generous sweeps of his tongue.

He needed