Beauty and the Werewolf (Entangled Covet) (San Francisco Wolf Pack)

by Kristin Miller

  And then, when he drove a finger inside her, she cried out his name.

  “God, Isabelle,” he said, his dark eyes blazing with need. “You’re so tight.”

  Stroking her closer and closer to the peak of ecstasy, he held her against him to support her weight. She squirmed in his arms, her legs going weak. And then, when he thrust his tongue into her mouth in time with his fingers, she surrendered. Bucked against his hand. Nipped at his bottom lip. And screamed so loud, her voice echoed into the night.

  On a satisfied groan, he withdrew his hand from between her legs and sucked on his fingers. “I’m so hungry for you.”

  Her legs quivered as the waning pulses of the orgasm lingered in her center. “What about you?”

  “We’ll get to that.” Grinning slyly, he arranged the clothes on the ground into a makeshift bed. And then taking her hand, he laid her down and helped take her pants off the rest of the way. “But I’m not finished with you yet.”

  Good God.

  How much more could she take?

  Hovering over her, he supported his weight with his hands planted on either side of her shoulders, creating a cage with his body. His gaze roved over her, though this time it was filled with admiration and awe. He swept a few loose strands of hair out of her face. Brushed his thumb over her bottom lip. And shook his head slowly.

  “You’re glorious,” he said, breathless. “An angel…my angel. You might not know it yet, but you came to save me from the dark.”

  There were no thoughts of correcting him. She was his. Something deep in her heart told her so.

  As he lowered his head to possess her mouth once more, the heat from his body radiated through hers, burning her up. Primal instincts reared up inside her as his hands glided down her body. Cupped her breasts, and ghosted over her waist. Dipped lower…

  This time, his mouth followed the trail of his hands down her body. She went damp as his tongue flicked out over her nipples. First one, then the other.

  “I love to hear the little sounds you make when I touch you.” He stroked a finger through her heat and groaned. “Will you make the same sounds when I kiss you?”

  She shivered as he dived between her legs. He spread them wide with his hands. Gripped her thighs tight. He blew softly over her center, driving her wild. She shook with want. Trembled with deep-rooted desire.

  “How bad do you want it?” He swirled his fingers over her thighs, imitating the motions he’d used moments before. And then he pressed a kiss to the dent where her legs met her hips. It was close enough—a taste of what was to come. “Tell me, Isabelle.”

  She writhed, desperation piercing through her, and grasped his shoulders. “Put your mouth on me.”

  On a throaty moan, he did as she commanded, dragging his tongue through her heat. She cried out in soul-searing pleasure, her voice strangled as she clawed at his shoulders. He continued his sensual assault, swirling his tongue. Pressing his mouth against her, giving her the pressure she craved. Keeping his lips on her core, his hands slid up her body and kneaded her breasts.

  It was too much. Sensation overload.

  Without warning, his tongue plunged into her heat. In and out again. She exploded against his mouth, her hips rearing up as the most intense orgasm of her life tore through her. When the blissful convulsions finally ebbed, she went limp. Her vision blurred. Her arms fell to her sides. And when he rose over her, he wore nothing but a sly grin and the largest erection she’d ever seen in her life.

  “You’re radiant.” He planted the softest of kisses on her lips. “Do you know how much I love that I’m the one who gave you that glow?”

  How had she been resisting this? They’d wasted the entire weekend at the museum and in Napa when they could’ve been in his bed. Doing this. Over and over again. And again.

  “What are you thinking?” He lay beside her, the evidence of his arousal pressing against her hip. “You frowned just now.”

  “Nothing.” She stroked her hands up and down the ripples of muscle on his stomach, and then gripped the head of his shaft. “I want to pleasure you, too.”

  “But that wasn’t why you frowned.” He moaned, laying his head back. “If you were worried about this ending, it doesn’t have to, you know.”

  Yes it did.

  She was leaving. Going back to Ireland soon…

  And Jack was weakening. He didn’t have long left. He’d said so himself. Sure, he looked fine now, full of vigor and stamina, but she’d seen firsthand how his spells could knock him out.

  If only she had more time. If only her father weren’t sick.

  She’d stay in San Francisco for a while. They’d hide out from the world, and cherish the time spent together behind closed doors. She’d help him find his Luminary so that he could live another—

  She cut the thought short and worried her bottom lip between her teeth.

  The thought of Jack bonding with someone else didn’t mesh in her head. It was like trying to argue with herself that the sky was red. Still, if it saved his life, she’d help him find her.

  In the distance, the scent of non-shifters hit her nostrils. They both turned in the direction of the aroma—he must’ve picked it up, too. Down one of the paths leading deeper into the park, a couple strode through the shadows. They were drunk, from the smell of them.

  “Come on, we better get out of here. San Francisco has rules about public indecency.” Smirking, he helped her off the ground. “Let me take you home, and I’ll show you what it could be like if you stayed with me.”

  If she only had today—a few precious hours—to spend in San Francisco, she wanted nothing more than to be with Jack.

  Whatever that meant.

  “Lead the way,” she said.

  Jack shut his bedroom door and walked Isabelle toward his bed. Disrobing in two seconds flat, he kicked off his shoes. Clothes flew to the corners of the room. Coming at her fast, he peeled the clothes off her body, kissing her silky-soft skin as he went. When she was beautifully nude, standing before him unabashedly, he sucked in a clipped breath. Lush breasts. Soft curves. Milky-white skin, and freckles decorating her cheeks.

  She was the perfect combination of sweet and sin. Innocence and irresistible sex appeal.

  “Your bed is ginormous.” Blushing, she smacked him playfully. “How many women did you plan to have in here at one time?”

  “It’s not about the number of women I can fit in here”—gripping her waist tight, he hiked her legs around his waist and drove her back, dropping her onto the silk-covered bed—“but what you can do with one woman in it.”

  Her eyes went wild with excitement as he flipped her over and pulled her down on top of him. Her hair cascaded around her face in a dark, silky waterfall…and he lost his breath.

  If he were the artist, he’d paint this moment. Right here.

  He pressed a long and languid kiss on her lips, drawing an erotic moan from the back of her throat. It fueled his desire. Reaching up, he cupped her gloriously full breasts in his hands.

  “I swear your body was made for me,” he said on a groan. “You’re so perfect.”

  She tilted her head to the side and grinned sweetly. “I don’t know how you do it, but you make me feel like the most beautiful woman in the world. Like I’m the only one for you.”

  “You are.”

  She planted her lips on his and kissed him openmouthed. With passion and promise. As she began to move her hips over his groin—tiny little rocking movements back and forth, back and forth—tendrils of white-hot tension gathered into a ball at the base of his spine.

  If he waited another second to feel her heat clench around him, he’d burst.

  Thanking God for the fact that werewolves could only get pregnant when the female was in heat, Jack let out a throaty moan. Gripping her hips, he positioned her perfectly over his shaft. He shook. Hovered on the brink of drowning in her slick heat and losing himself completely.

  “Jack,” she said as she moved over his thick l
ength. “I ache for you.”

  It was all he needed to hear.

  On a hiss, he edged his throbbing tip inside. Wet heat engulfed him, welcoming him deeper. Thrusting slowly, he inched inside her clenching depths. She threw her head back and groaned in pleasure as he finally buried himself to the hilt.

  “Isabelle, you feel so”—gripping need pulsed through him as the scent of her arousal hit him—“fucking good. So soft. Tight.”

  Lifting her hips over him, he guided her in a steady rhythm. Rocking her back and forth. Slowly. And then, when a jolt of lust hit him hard, he flipped her over, pinning her to the mattress. She shrieked in delight, exhilaration and happiness spearing through her. Crossing her arms over her head, he held her in place with one hand and used the other to tease her nipples.

  “Oh, Jack…”

  He licked and nipped at her lower lip. Drove into her again and again. Passion rising fast, he slid all the way out, and then drove back inside. Pushed back, and plunged in. And then, as he thrust into her core and feasted on the sweetness of her mouth, she cried out. Her depths pulsed, milking him to the brink of his release.

  Mine.

  “Jack.” She moaned in sheer bliss as he pinned her with his body. He was close—his entire body taut, fighting against the release. “Come inside me.”

  He rolled his hips against her in a sensual rhythm. Slow slide out. Deep push in. Grinding against her, he penetrated as far as he could go and demanded more.

  Her instincts flared as a fiery current surged inside her.

  Mine.

  She stilled beneath him.

  He matched her, his thrust slowing. “Are you okay?”

  Nodding, she urged him down over her again. “I will be when you finally give me what I want.”

  “There is something so erotic”—he pushed into her, and she arched up. Lowering his head, he sucked her nipple into his mouth—“about a woman who knows how to ask for what she wants.”

  He sank deeper, stretching her to the fullest. And when she thought he couldn’t possibly please her any more, he dipped his hand between their bodies and rubbed her gently. She bucked against him, her head falling back and her mouth dropping open.

  Mine.

  There was that word again. Echoing in her head. Tugging on something deep in her belly.

  “Isabelle, I want to make you mine.” He swirled his fingers lightly, right where she craved the pressure. He angled his thrusts so they were shallow…just right…like…that. “Say I can treasure you this way, every day for the rest of our lives.”

  He wanted to complete the bonding process with her. It would happen now, if it were going to happen at all. They’d press their palms together, make love, and recite vows that would bond them for hundreds of years.

  His entire body quaked as he waited for her answer.

  Mine.

  She was too close to climax. Hovering on the brink.

  “Isabelle, look at me.”

  As his throbbing length filled her with gentle strokes, and his fingers massaged her swollen clit, she gazed up into his eyes. There was lust and raging desire…and love.

  Mine.

  This time it wasn’t her own voice that she heard, but Jack’s.

  It sent her careering over the edge. The orgasm ripped through her, engulfing her in waves of blinding heat. Her core was still clenching fiercely when he drove into her a second time. And then a third. Sweat trickled down his temple as he thrust harder into her core. His desperate gaze held hers, and on a final, languid thrust, he stilled. His muscles seized. His hips spread her thighs wide. And then he pitched over the edge, filling her with everything he had to give.

  My Luminary.

  The thought struck her as he collapsed, going limp on top of her. He half supported his weight on his arms and breathed heavily into her hair.

  “I knew you’d come around,” he mumbled.

  “What?”

  Rolling beside her, he pulled her against him. “You felt it. You heard my claim in your head, in your heart.”

  “I feel it now.” She nodded, fighting back tears. “I do.”

  There was no doubting it. He was meant for her, and she for him. Sweet relief rushed through her veins, warming her from the inside out. She’d found her mate. She’d prayed for the day. But on the heels of the primal reaction, waves of trepidation followed, whirling through her like a maelstrom.

  “God, Isabelle, I can’t tell you how relieved I am. I’d given up hope that I’d ever find you. But from the first moment I met you, not once did I doubt it was you, that you were it for me.” He stroked his hand down her shoulder, her arm, to her wrist. “We can be together. Your father will realize we’re fated to be one, and he’ll have to come around.”

  “He won’t.”

  Jack spun her to face him and frowned. “Don’t tell me that you’re…”

  The answers were in her eyes—he could see them. He’d have to. She couldn’t bond with him. Not until she had her father’s approval.

  He exhaled heavily. The despairing sound was a knife to the heart.

  “If you were going to bond with me, you would’ve done it when you heard my voice,” he said, “when you realized it. It’s not going to happen, is it?”

  “It will,” she said, brushing her hand over his cheek. “But not yet. I just need some time.” Time to convince her father that not all MacGrath men were terrible people. “Please don’t be mad at me.”

  “Sweetheart,” he said, kissing the tip of her nose. “How could I be mad at you? You’re trying to do what’s best for your father and your pack. But he must want you to be happy and find the werewolf you’re destined to spend the rest of your life with. Don’t you think he might change his mind if he knew? Don’t you think it’s worth the chance?”

  She chuckled, though tears threatened. “If he knew I was lying here with you having this conversation, he’d tell me to find someone from our pack to marry, even if it meant shortening my life. Because the role of Alpha comes with the heavy burden of responsibility. It’s not about what makes me happy, but what’s best for the pack. I’ve known that was my charge all along, but I never thought I’d actually have to make a decision like this…with someone like you.”

  “What about in a year or two?” he asked, gazing deep into her eyes. “When your father has passed, and things have calmed down. When you’re Alpha, and free to make the rules as you wish. If I’m still…in the picture, would you bond with me then?”

  Her stomach wrenched at the thought of losing him. She paused, her thoughts racing through every scenario, every outcome of her actions.

  But it wasn’t only about her. It was about so many others who would come after her. Although it was easy to focus on the welcoming warmth of Jack’s arms, and his steady heartbeat as it thumped against her chest, there was a much bigger picture she needed to focus on.

  She needed her father’s—the Alpha’s—blessing.

  “I know that I want to be with you,” she said finally.

  He smiled as he kissed her. “Then for now, I guess that’s all I need to hear.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  A soft beeping sound penetrated Isabelle’s dream. In the soundest sleep of her life, she envisioned happily ruling the Irish Wolf Pack with Jack. Hand in hand, heart in heart.

  The sound grew louder.

  She peeled her eyes open, rolled over, and checked the phone she’d set on the nightstand before they’d fallen asleep.

  Neil.

  His name flashed across her screen with an alert of the text he’d sent a few minutes before.

  Call me. ASAP. It’s your dad.

  Heart in her throat, Isabelle clutched the phone and slipped out of bed, careful not to wake Jack. She closed the door on her way into the dark hall. Dialed. Prayed her dad was all right.

  “Neil,” she whispered as soon as her friend answered. “What’s happened?”

  “He fell in the shower last night. My mum found him and took him to see t
he doc, but he’s not walking and…”

  His words trailed off as panic latched onto Isabelle’s windpipe, strangling her.

  “I’m coming home,” she blurted, searching for her shoes. Where had Jack kicked them last night? “Right now.”

  “The doc says he might only have a week left, maybe two,” she heard him say through the fog clouding her brain. “If you wanted to patch things up with him, now’s the time.”

  Lost in a haze, Isabelle circled through the foyer, hand to her head. It was pounding, pinching at her temples. Spots had started forming in front of her eyes.

  “I’m on my way.”

  She was about to hang up when Neil said, “Did you get what you went there for?”

  “Yeah.” Her gaze skated toward the direction of the gallery. “I got everything I needed.”

  She winced. When it was worded that way, her relationship with Jack sounded hollow. As if the only reason she was in his home was because she needed the paintings, and not him.

  “Good,” he said simply. “See you soon.”

  “Wait…Neil?”

  “What is it?”

  She paused. How to say it? “How do you think my dad would feel if I brought someone back with me?”

  “Who—like a male, who?” From the snarkiness in Neil’s tone, she could tell he was smiling. “Did you meet someone? Didn’t I tell you not to leave your heart in San Francisco?”

  “I did meet someone, actually. The thing is, he’s a MacGrath.”

  Silence on the other end of the line.

  “Neil?” More silence. “Are you there?”

  “What are you thinking, Isabelle?” he said, his tone falling flat. “Are you really going to bring a MacGrath to your dad’s bedside? Tell him you fell in love and—”

  “I never said I fell in love.”

  “You wouldn’t be asking to bring him home if you didn’t love the poor bastard.”

  Good call. He knew her well.

  “It’ll kill him, Isabelle,” he said softly. “You can’t bring him here, not now. This is the worst possible time to tell him he’s going to lose his daughter to someone he hates.”

  She worried her bottom lip between her teeth and nodded in agreement, even though he couldn’t see her.