fly. She watched with hypnotized fascination as he unzipped it. His cock had pulled the fabric so taut, he had to wrestle with it for a moment. “Damn it…” Helena might have laughed if she wasn’t working so hard not to leap on him and rip those pants right off.
But a moment later he managed it and pulled the zipper down, with a sigh that sounded like relief. Helena saw why, as his cock jutted, barely contained by the stretchy black cotton of his boxers. He paused to toe off his shoes, then stripped pants and underwear down his long, muscled legs. Conal stepped out of his clothes, picked them up and strode across the room. He seemed utterly unselfconscious as her gaze flicked down the length of his broad back to his narrow waist, to the strong curves of his ass and long, strong legs.
He emerged from the bathroom without his clothing a moment later, and… Oh, sweet Jesus -- that cock. She’d seen her share of erections before she’d become a werewolf, but Conal’s shaft was long, elegant and uncut, deliciously exotic, and she swallowed, imagining how it would feel inside her. When Helena finally dragged her eyes away from his erection, she realized he was watching her. He sauntered over, a very satisfied male smile on his face. “You’re doing this deliberately,” she accused.
His return grin grew a little twisted. “Yeah. I don’t normally strut, but I’m feeling a little… lacerated.”
The smile fled her face. “Yeah. I know how that feels.”
Conal’s eyes widened, and he looked startled, as if it had just dawned on him he wasn’t the only one who’d endured a traumatic werewolf encounter. Helena tensed, afraid he was going to ask. But Conal only gazed into Helena’s face for a long moment, searching, as if he could somehow sense the pain Helena had worked so hard to forget. Finally he took her into his arms in a slow gathering that felt exquisitely kind. His kiss was just as tender, just as rich with understanding. She felt her eyes sting, yet for once she wasn’t ashamed.
His hands slid down the length of her back, drifting over her shoulders, the dip of her waist, the curve of her hip, until she felt the hard, wracking quiver of need roll through her. As if in response, Conal slipped his tongue into the depths of her mouth in a slick, suggestive entry that sent an electric tingle from her nipples all the way to her clit. As they kissed, his hands glided to the buttons on her top. The smell of his arousal filled her senses as his cock brushed her belly.
And yet his hands were steady, controlled, as he undid each and every button. For something to do with her own hands, Helena fumbled with Liam’s belt and managed to get it off. She started to drop it to the floor, but it pulled out of her hands and floated over to the bedside table, landing with a little clunk. In easy reach.
Apparently, there was only so much privacy Liam was willing to give. Considering her IQ had begun dropping the minute Conal took off his shirt, Helena decided to be grateful.
Helena started to go for the buttons of her slacks, but Conal firmly pushed her hands away. She’d have objected… but perversely, she found it turned her on. Her inner wolf growled in lust, and it was all she could do not to grab him and throw him onto the bed. For just a moment, his eyes met hers, glowing violet, hot and demanding. He needs this. Needed this exercise of control over himself. Over her. And she could control her lusty inner wolf for a few more minutes, damn it.
Self-control had never been Helena’s problem. Growing up a black woman in the South taught you all about not losing your shit, even when you were fully entitled to. Her law enforcement career had honed that discipline even more. I can do this.
Conal slid her top off, and paused, gazing down at her chest. Liam, bless his perceptive psycho’s heart, had added a pretty bra when he’d conjured more suitable clothes. Cream demi-cups lifted the curves of her breasts, veiling her nipples in delicate lace. Judging from the way heat flared in his eyes, Conal approved. He reached out gentle fingertips and ran them over the soft mounds. The contrast of pale fingers and dark skin struck her as erotic, forbidden.
He dropped the top on the