by Terry Spear
Page 8
Her chin lifted a little in defiance, her dark brown eyes narrowing. No argument there, which meant he was correct in his assumption. He had to remind himself she wasn’t a wolf. That she didn’t have a pack. That it shouldn’t matter what a human female had in mind to do.
But family took care of family. The thought kept nagging at him—where was her family? A father? Siblings? Anyone else? Why was she after these men all on her own? Why wasn’t anyone keeping tabs on her?
He assumed the judge had set a bail bond low enough that the men had been able to post bail. If they had skipped their court dates, as she assumed, she would be in danger while she trailed them.
“Admit it. Mario and the other man you mentioned, Danny Massaro, murdered your mother. It’s a vendetta,” he said quietly, but the undercurrent of warning was there. What she was doing was wrong, and it could get her killed.
“Not a vendetta,” she said icily. “I don’t plan to gun them down like they did my mother. Just return them to jail where they belong. Permanently. ”
She tried to pull her hand free from his, but he wouldn’t let go. With his free hand, he swept the back of his hand down her cheek with a tender caress. “All right, not a vendetta then. ” But he still couldn’t see how she planned to safely take these men into custody.
He wasn’t sure just what about her made his pulse race to such an extent, the way the heat of her hand penetrated his, the way he couldn’t put her out of his mind, stirring a need to be with her and to protect her that he was having a hard time quelling. The expression on her face, though rebellious, appealed to him. Hell, everything about her did.
Her short-waisted suit jacket hung open as if she’d been ready to remove it to dress in a more casual manner. But he knew that had to do with her having easy access to her gun, although the holstered weapon was still hidden. His gaze drifted down to where the ice-white silken blouse revealed the faint outline of her bra and a hint of lace, baring the sexier side of her outfit. Round pearl-button fasteners on her blouse captured his attention, and briefly, he wanted to touch them, to poke one after another through the slivers of their buttonholes, to see the rest of her as nature had intended.
She cleared her throat, and he returned his gaze to her face. A small smile tugged at her lips, and her brows lifted in a way that said she knew exactly where his thoughts had roamed.
Although he wanted this issue between them resolved—wanted her to promise him she wasn’t going any further with this futile effort to take down these men, when her hand rested on his shirt-covered chest, the vest now open and most of his shirt still unbuttoned because of hastily dressing, he thought she was going to push him away. Or at least try.
But her hand swept up his chest as if tentatively feeling the muscles beneath the shirt, memorizing the sensation of him, and judging his reaction, while her eyes focused on his chest as she continued to explore. Her touch left a trail of sizzling heat through the cotton shirt and a craving to touch her in the same way, except that he wanted to touch her skin to skin.
He lifted her chin and leaned down and kissed her. Potent need filled him as his mouth conquered hers, possessing and wanting, the worry that she could have come to harm still making his blood pulse hot and hard. His hands slid underneath the back of her jacket, gliding over the silky blouse while her head still tilted up to encourage his onslaught. Instantly responsive, she reacted as though she needed his comfort, his possessiveness, him, as she molded to his body, pressing harder against him, her hands exploring his back through the dress shirt with eagerness.
If they’d been back home in his own woods, away from civilization, free to do what they pleased, he would have liked to take her, conquer her, make love to her. It wasn’t just sex that he was interested in having with Alicia either, but something deeper. Although he knew he couldn’t go there with her, not when she was human, and he had no intention of turning her.
With his thoughts shifting to his more primal needs, he barely registered that they were still standing on the path where hikers could come upon them at any moment. He wasn’t familiar with these woods or how frequently visitors to the area might slip off the path and do some exploring on their own. Still, he wanted more, wanted her. And his baser, more primitive instinct told him she was just as willing as he was. To go with the moment, to find pleasure where they could.
But was Alicia truly as willing?
Chapter 4
Jake pulled Alicia off the hiking trail and deeper into the woods, kissing her mouth and stroking her back while walking backward as she continued to press herself against him, pursuing him and getting caught up in the moment.
When she wrenched his shirt free from his jeans, he knew she was thinking along the same intimate lines he was. He broke free of the kiss, then slid his hand around hers and hauled her even deeper into the woods, far away from the beaten path. He was glad he’d moved her from the trail when the distant conversation of more hikers walking along it drifted to them.
Finally he and Alicia reached a secluded enough spot in the forest, surrounded by tall, slender quaking aspens, their leaves twisting and bending in a fluttering dance to the tune of a warm, dry breeze and issuing a softly whispering rustle. He took a deep breath of the fragrance of the towering ponderosa pine trees, with their subtle vanilla-scented bark, although unless a human stood close to the tree bark, he or she probably couldn’t smell it like a wolf could.
The trees creaked as a sturdy wind shook them. Pine needles rained down in a wistful shower to the forest floor, which was already coated with fallen leaves and pine needles of seasons past. The woods were dark and shady as birds flitted around on the nearby tree branches. Other than the sounds of the breeze in the trees and the twittering of the birds, the place was a perfect depiction of tranquility and beauty. Especially with Alicia in the picture.
He almost wished he had his camera to capture the timeless beauty. But this was all too private and personal, and he wanted to capture the image of her like this for his sake only.
He stopped and looked down at her. She gazed up at him with smoldering eyes, hot and sexy and dark with desire. He reached up, unfastened the copper clip confining her hair on top of her head, and watched with fascination as the dark chocolate curls cascaded over her shoulders. Having imagined tons of pins confining her hair, he was glad that releasing it was this easy.
He tucked the clip into his shirt pocket, feeling as though he’d claimed one of the enchantress’s treasures, forever binding her to him, as she smiled a little at the gesture. He combed his fingers through the luscious, heavy, satiny strands of hair as her fingers rested momentarily on his hips. She watched him as he luxuriated in the feel of her curls.
“Beautiful,” he whispered, nuzzling his face in a handful of her curls. He breathed in the lightly perfumed scent and then leaned down to kiss her forehead with a lingering touch.
“Hmm, likewise,” she murmured back, slipping her hands up the front of his shirt, her fingers brushing through his light chest hair, feeling his muscles, then sweeping across his nipples.
“Are you sure you want to—”
“Yes,” she whispered, sounding nearly desperate to keep going.
He sucked in a breath, the heady feeling she created in him making him pause briefly to savor every whisper-soft touch of her roving fingertips, his body tight with anticipation. When she slipped her hands free of his shirt and began working on his buttons, he reached down and pulled her blouse free of her skirt. He’d only just begun the arduous job of trying to push a round pearl button through the tiny slit of a buttonhole on her blouse when she finished unbuttoning his shirt.
She slowly peeled his shirt off his shoulders, taking the vest with it at the same time, sliding it lower until the shirt and vest rested midway down his biceps. He expected her to pull them both off, but instead, she held the shirt and vest in place, keeping him hostage as she leaned close and
licked one nipple, then the other. The warm wind sweeping across his wet nipples created an arousing tingling he’d never experienced before, and he groaned with need at the sensation, wanting to do the same with Alicia. And much, much more.
More than the way her kissing and licking his nipples into ecstasy was affecting him, he was intrigued by the fact she was controlling him, holding him hostage. No woman he had ever been with had done such a thing to him. After one last gentle pull on each nipple with her hot sensuous lips, she finally lifted her gaze to his and smiled, the skin beneath her dark thick lashes crinkling slightly, her eyes sparkling with genuine delight. He cupped the back of her head and angled his mouth over hers, his shirt and vest still positioned in the middle of his biceps and keeping him from having a full range of motion. The confined sensation made him even harder and more desirous, and Alicia more desirable.
He plunged his tongue into her mouth and tangled with her own very willing tongue. Then she finally pulled his shirt and vest downward, forcing him to drop his hands away from cupping her head, their mouths still linked in a mating dance. After she yanked the shirt and vest free and deposited them on the ground, his hands went to her blouse buttons. But again, she thwarted him when she slipped her jacket off her shoulders and then tossed it on top of his shirt. His fingers returned to her buttons, finally managing to undo one, but then continued to struggle with the second one. Hell, at this rate, he’d take all day to get her out of the blouse, and he was ready to just yank a bunch of buttons off it instead.
“Here, let me do it,” she said, sensing his frustration, her hands clasping his with a gentle reassuring touch, her voice softly reaching his ears, although his lust-filled brain was having a hard time deciphering anything but the need to have her naked and in his arms.
He eagerly gave in to her suggestion and reached around her back to locate the zipper on her skirt. But after running his hand around the back of her waistband, he couldn’t locate the fastener.
“Side zipper,” she said, indicating with her elbow which side as she continued to unfasten her blouse.
He noticed she was having a hard time with the buttons, too. The thought occurred to him that if she were a wolf, the blouse would not have been part of her wardrobe as it would be too difficult to remove in a hurry if she needed to shift. But her skirt zipper easily parted for him, and she was soon wiggling a little as he pulled the skirt down her hips. Then she stepped out of the garment.