She pulled herself onto the bench and caught the loaf of bread he tossed her. He turned on a small light near the stove then continued on to the refrigerator, pulling out a platter of cold meats and a platter of fruit. Which was exactly what she'd wanted five minutes ago, but definitely not what she wanted right now. The thought sent a shiver across her skin. Being with this man, in this place, was dangerous. It made her hunger for things that just weren't safe. Or sane.
He placed the two platters on the table, then met her gaze. His dark eyes were shuttered, his face shadowed. If not for the hunger that burned through the night, she might have thought him immune to the moon fever and her.
So why was he even with her? Especially when Betise was at the mansion? It didn't make sense, particularly given the loathing she'd sensed in him earlier.
Or was there more to the story than what Betise had said? Did Duncan celebrate the rising of the moon with casual partners because he had no other choice? Had she turned away from him rather than him her?
She didn't know, and she suspected he wouldn't tell her if she asked.
He pressed her knees open then stepped between her legs and pulled her close. Her br**sts were lightly squashed against his chest, and she could feel the wild thumping of his heart. Could feel the heat radiating off his skin, surrounding her in a furnace that was desire.
"Anything else you want?"
His breath caressed her lips, and a tremor ran through her. "A knife to cut the bread would be good."
"And a soda?"
She nodded. She couldn't do anything else because her voice seemed to have fled.
His mouth brushed hers, a tingling, tantalizing promise of what was to come, then he stepped back and returned to the refrigerator. "Ice?"
Again she nodded. Within seconds, he was back with two drinks and a bread knife. He cut several slices of bread, offering one to her as he slid the meat platter closer. She made herself a sandwich and ate it, her skin tingling with awareness as his gaze did a slow tour of her body.
She finished her drink and put the glass down on the bench. The remaining ice clinked softly, a sound that seemed to reverberate in the tense, overheated silence.
Or maybe it was just she who was overheated.
He stepped closer again. She instinctively inched back. A smile touched his sensual lips, and he reached out, gently running his fingers down her neck and across her shoulder, displacing the thin strap of her dress as he continued on down her arm.
She swallowed, but it didn't seem to help the dryness in her throat. Didn't seem to help the dizzy tripping of her pulse. He was far too close. All she could smell was the earthy spice of him, all she could feel were his breath on her skin and the caress of his hand. And all she wanted was to feel him inside.
It was crazy. Totally and utterly crazy. For seemingly no good reason, this man had, at the very least, forever altered her relationship with her parents. And while that might have happened eventually, it was a change she hadn't been prepared to deal with just yet. Especially when the man by her side was Duncan — a wolf so totally opposite to everything she wanted in a mate.
But the moon was burning through her veins, and at this particular moment she didn't care who he was or what he'd done. In all the years since puberty she'd never felt anything this strong. And that in itself was a scary thought. But maybe it was nothing more than a combination of the moon and being in the presence of a wolf well versed in the art of seduction.
His fingers slipped back up her arm and across to her other shoulder. The second strap slid down her arm, and her breath caught as her dress shimmied to her waist. His gaze met hers, and in those dark depths she saw a desire so intense it made her squirm.
"You feel hot," he murmured, leaning forward to brush the line of her neck with feather soft kisses.
She closed her eyes, enjoying the sensation. "It's warm in the kitchen."
"Very warm. Perhaps we should try to cool you a little."
The glass clinked again, and she opened her eyes. "Ice is not a good idea."
He raised an eyebrow, a smile teasing his lips. "Really?" He ran his hand up her arm, the cube of ice trapped in his palm. The momentary chill of the ice was quickly lost to the heat of his touch, and the overall sensation was incredibly arousing.
His hand reached her chest and moved down. She tensed, her breath catching in her throat. The cube skimmed one breast, then the other, and she gasped, jerking back from his touch. He chuckled, then his mouth enclosed on one hard nub, and she forgot the chill, forgot everything, and simply enjoyed as he sucked and nipped.
When she was all but squirming with need, he continued on, past her br**sts, down toward her stomach. The ice had become little more than droplets of water running past the heat of his fingers, quickly soaked up by the folds of her dress. But the silky material provided no barrier to his hand, and as his fingers slid into her moist heat, she groaned and leaned back, giving him greater access.
"You want me, little wolf. Say it."
"No." It was obvious that she wanted him, but she was never going to admit it. Because if she admitted that she'd have to admit just how badly he affected her. And that was one pleasure she refused to give him.
"What harm is there in admitting you have needs like everyone else?"
He continued to slide a finger through her moistness, every stroke providing just the right amount of pressure. Ripples of pleasure radiated across her body.