from the escaped breath. His tongue flicked hers and she couldn’t help it then, taking his face in her hands and meeting his tongue with her own, showing him what to do. What she was practically dying for him to do.
His breath stuttered again and then their tongues were twisting and dancing, and the moans that they were making echoed in the quiet of the ice-shrouded morning.
“Take me inside, Jak,” she managed to say.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
He kicked the door of his cabin open, his kick so strong the door banged against the wall, bouncing back and hitting him in the shoulder before he could carry Harper inside.
A grunt sounded somewhere. It must have been him because she answered with one of her own, wrapping her legs tighter around his waist.
She was everywhere. All around him, inside him. Her scent. Her heat. Her. He felt the wildness—the thing he’d tried so hard not to be—tearing at him from the inside, shouting for him to give in to it. “Jak,” she whispered between kisses. The sound of his name on her lips made his chest squeeze so hard he had to suck in a breath. He couldn’t believe this. She was here. With him. Letting him touch her and kiss her. Hot. Beautiful. His. The wildness moved forward, taking over.
He threw her on the bed, and she let out a surprised laugh as she bounced once, then twice. She stilled and her eyes went wide as she stared up at him, but not with the fear he thought he’d see. He wasn’t sure he was glad of that or not. He needed her to tell him if what he was doing was right or wrong, because he didn’t know how to do this. All he knew were his instincts—that wild wolf inside him—and his instincts wanted to take, wanted him to lose control, to feed the hunger pounding through his veins.
“You’re trembling,” she said, so soft he almost didn’t hear her for the blood whooshing in his head. She took his hand and pulled him down to her, bringing one hand to his cheek and tracing his cheekbone. He closed his eyes at the shocking happiness of this woman touching him with . . . sweetness. “Have you ever seen yourself in a mirror?” she asked, smoothing a long piece of hair back from his forehead.
He shook his head, unable to speak, his world turning back to only pictures, only feelings and smells, the way it’d started to become before he’d found the car, the words. The notebooks that had made him human again. Before her mother brought him from the darkness.
She smiled, a slow curving of her lips, the ones that were plump and pink from kissing him. He felt pride in his chest that he had made her look that way. Him. He had claimed her. He wished other males could see. Know that she was his. “You’re beautiful.”
“Beautiful?” He frowned. He thought that was a word used for females, and he didn’t know if it meant she thought of him as a woman. That was definitely not what he wanted.
Harper laughed, running a finger down his scar again. “Handsome. Sexy. Beautiful in a masculine way.” It was like she knew what he had thought, and it made him feel happy. The light from the window made her skin look golden and her eyes sparkled. She was the beautiful one. He leaned forward and kissed her because he could. That fire in his veins grew hotter again and when she let out a moan, it caused some of his control to slip. Hold on. Hold on.
He needed to smell her. Everywhere.
He moved his nose to her neck and inhaled, and in that spot he could smell her, not the things she wore on top of her smell, but the scent of her skin. Her, and only her. The scent that brought the whispers moving fast through his blood. “I like the way you smell,” he said against her throat. She let out a small sound that might be a laugh, but the good kind. And she put her fingers into his hair, her nails scraping over his scalp. He growled, low in his throat and then went lower, stopped by the top of her sweater.
“You can take it off,” she whispered.
He didn’t pause, sliding the material up her ribs and over her head, as she lifted for him. His blood spiked as he threw the piece of clothing aside, but then