by Zoe Forward
Finally, she arrived at his room, which she recognized based on smell. She flattened her palm against the closed wooden door and dropped her head. She should walk away, but her legs wouldn’t move. Come to the door, Michael. Invite me in.
He had to know she was out here.
Seconds ticked by. No move to invite her inside, but she detected his heart rate increased. Tumultuous emotions roiled through her, and she wasn’t sure if they were his or her own.
Desire. It twined around her like a living thing, pulling her under until she thought she’d drown in it. Her nails raked the wood.
“Michael,” she whispered.
The door swung open, throwing her off balance in more ways than one. And then he was there, standing before her, a pair of faded jeans slung low on his lean hips. The impossible heat of him hit her like a desert wind.
“Why’re you here?” he asked when she stepped into the dark room.
The half moon outside cast the room in blue shadows. His powerful body was strung tight, as if he prepared to attack something. One hand curled around the edge of the doorframe, gripping so hard, his knuckles looked pearl white in the moonlight. This tension…was it from her being there? Or something else? Earlier, he’d seemed frayed and on edge. Perhaps he’d had a tough meeting. Now? Every bit of her empath sense told her he was angry. Upset.
Grieving.
Maybe he simply mourned the loss of the woman he loved. Grace’s mother. The person who wasn’t her.
“Go away.” The order lacked enthusiasm and came out a gruff whisper.
She closed the door behind her and moved toward him.
His eyes widened. His hand extended. She imagined him reaching out for her, but he swung around instead and grabbed the bottle of gin off a nearby windowsill.
“I’m here to…” The sight of him stressed out, drinking and alone, made tears well up.
He opened his mouth as if about to speak. Instead, his throat convulsed with a swallow. All his dark hair was pulled behind his head. He’d shaved his face, leaving a goatee, not that she cared. He was so mind-numbingly beautiful.
She touched his chest, sad that a shirt separated her hand from skin-to-skin contact. “You’re hurting. Did you lose your…was Grace’s mother your mate?”
His face screwed up. “What? No. Hell no.”
“Oh.” You will not grin. She pressed her lips together to resist. “Then what has you like this? You’re in so much pain.”
He drank from the open bottle, chugging a third of it like a soda. “You here…what do you want from me?”
“I thought I was here for one thing, but now I don’t know why I’m here.” She reached up and pulled his hair free of its tie to touch the strands, which were soft yet thick, and ran to his mid-back.
The bottle paused mid-air, halfway to his mouth. His entire body tensed even more.
“When I thought I was dying, I regretted not doing this.” She combed her fingers through his dark hair.
He dropped the bottle, which hit the floor with a thud and slosh of liquid. The odor of liquor saturated the air. Neither of them looked down at the bottle. “You wanted to touch my hair?”
“There are a lot of reasons I deserve that you’re-a-freak look, but let me take in your enthrallment aura for a minute because it’s so powerful.” She raked her nails lightly along his scalp.
His blew out an uneven sigh, but she couldn’t interpret if this meant enjoyment, frustration, rejection, or something else. Her empathy ability failed to pick up his feelings, perhaps because she was on emotional overload herself.
He rasped out, “You should go.”
She yanked her hand away. “That must’ve seemed really weird. I’m…I’m sorry.” He didn’t want her, and she was here forcing him to allow her to touch his hair. “So sorry. How about we keep this between you and me?”
“My lips are sealed.”
“This has got to be enough for me…for us. I’m babbling. I blame it on whatever kicked-up magnetic attraction thing you have. It makes me crazy. I’m leaving.” Her heart was about to crack from embarrassment.
He caught her hand before she moved further away.
He dropped his head until his chin touched his chest. So soft she could barely hear, he whispered, “It’s not enough.”
The longing in the admission kicked up her heart rate. She could barely squeak out, “Not enough?”
“Fuck, Kiera…” He glanced out the window over the moonlight- and snow-covered lawn. “I just finished plans for an attack on several vampire facilities, sentencing many of your kind to death. You’re supposed to be my enemy.” For the first time, confusion and torment met her in his gaze. “You weren’t supposed to be beautiful…or brave. You weren’t supposed to invade my mind every second of the goddamn day.”
He released the windowsill to cup his hand around her cheek in a light touch. He pressed his lips to her forehead. When she lifted her face to meet his soulful eyes, he angled her face upward, just right. Now her lips matched directly with his.
But he didn’t kiss her lips.
Was he waiting for something? Did he need an okay from her?
This torture…she might spontaneously explode simply from the not knowing what came next. Please, do something!
“I’m tired of being lonely,” he said. “Somehow, you take it away.”
“I feel that, too.” She gripped the front of his shirt but refused to be the one to make the first move, to release the angst and wildness clamoring to suck her into a vortex of forbidden action.
“There’s no enthrallment aura. I don’t have that.”
She nibbled on her lower lip. “Beg to differ.”
“You’re the only one who’s ever been affected.” He pulled away and whispered, “I can’t do this. What if you can’t resist trying my blood?”
“The idea of us trying this scares me, but I have a keen sense of survival. I can resist biting you, at least this once, even though…” She took a deep inhale to pick up the essence of his blood. Her canines ached to bite. Holy hell. Bad move. “Your blood smells incredible.”
“You should be scared.” He caged her against the wall with a hand pressed flush against the plaster on either side of her head. His erection pressed against her stomach. “I scare myself. But not you. Never you because you’re fearless. Danger excites you.”
“Maybe I’m a bit of an adrenaline junkie.” The wildness of him dazed her. “When was the last time you tried something new? Something dangerous, which is thrilling?”
“So fucking new.” He dropped his head. “This is your one-time warning. If I kiss you, I’m not stopping.”
“It’ll have to just be this one time. I can resist biting you this once, but I don’t think I’ll be able to again.” She twisted his shirt to hold him in place. “Please. If you don’t get on with this, I might frighten you and do something crazy like touch your hair again.”
A smile teased his lips. “Are you sure you’re healed?”
“They were small holes. Those healed with a night of rest.” His gaze dipped to her waist, to the circumferential scar. “Oh, you mean Isaac doing his thing? Yes, that’s fine now.”
“You and Isaac…”
Her heart pounded. “It’s complicated as only magic can be. But he and I never did anything like this.”
His ice-blue eyes glowed in the moonlight, filled with hunger. He stepped in and lowered his head until she could feel his breath beneath her ear. He kissed her pulse and nipped at her skin. A moan bubbled up her throat. “Burn with me.”
Heat blasted her veins, sending out a bolt of need that nearly buckled her legs. “Don’t bite me, Michael. It might tempt me to…”
“You swear you can do this without biting?”
The thought was delicious. It was agony. “I swear.”
His mouth wa
s on her neck again but not kissing, as if he’d put everything on pause. Again.
If he stopped now, she’d scream and probably hit him.
Each of his breaths tickled her skin. “I can only give you right now. Nothing more. There’s too much potential for you to…die.”
“I know.” She relaxed her palm against his chest. “No regrets. One night. Tonight.”
His lips met hers. There wasn’t anything tentative about the kiss. Potent sexual longing exploded between them. Their tongues dueled. Sensation overwhelmed. Instinct shut down thought. He tasted of ferocity and gin.
Her heart thrashed as if desperate to escape her chest. His lips were delicious. His tongue was a thrust of aggression in her mouth, and his scent made her feel high as if she’d shot up with a powerful opioid.
With a finger on his lips, she levered backward. “No more kissing. It’s incredible, but fangs…tongues…too much potential for blood. If we even have a mistake with my teeth, that’s bad. I want my once with you.”
“How’re you going to…”
A glance around found what she sought. She snatched a decorative scarf off the dresser and tied it around her lower face. Muffled, she said, “I’ll wear a mask.”
“I hate it.” With both hands, he smoothed back her hair, touched her neck, her shoulders. The tenderness melted her. It made her long for so much more than a one-off night with him. All they could have was right now.
“It’s the price for this.” Her hands traveled to his stomach, worming their way under his shirt. She went all the way to his waistband where she slipped her fingers beneath, teasing back and forth well above where she felt him long and thick pressing against her.
He sucked in a breath. Growling, he lifted her and walked backward to sit on the edge of the bed, placing her on his lap. Her legs situated perfectly over his hips.
His hands slid up her thighs, hooking the side of her pajama bottom, fingers tickling the skin beneath. “No underwear.”
“Noticed, huh?”
“Might’ve…downstairs. Sexy as fuck to confirm.”
His hands grabbed her ass to help her move along his heavy length.
“Oh God,” she said, mouth parted. “I need this, Michael. Need it so much.”
…
He had to slow down. To somehow gain control over the frenzied hormones pushing at him to go wild.
But…oh, holy fuck.
She undid his pants and slipped her hand down his length to his balls. He nearly jumped up, which would’ve knocked her off. Instead, he rotated to lie her on the bed, to get control of everything. He pressed his palm to her sternum, gently leaning her back onto the mattress until she fell completely flat. He hooked her pajama bottoms and slid them down her smooth legs then unbuttoned her top to let the two halves lie open.
He took a moment to soak in all of her. Flushed cheeks, the rapid rise and fall of her chest, plump breasts, pink rose nipples—perfection. She was the most breathtaking woman he’d ever seen.
Heart pounding, his need grew stronger by the second.
“So beautiful,” he whispered, bringing his mouth to her ear to deliver a light kiss.
Her hands floated to his neck, and her fingers played with his hair.
God, the taste of her skin.
His hands bunched in the comforter beside her as he balanced his weight above her and moved his lips down her neck to her collarbones.
In the back of his mind, he knew he should stop and put an end to this because the more he touched, the more he felt her body against him writhing, the more he knew he was getting sucked into her, and the harder it would be to let her go.
But…one more taste. Then he would stop.
Lowering down her body, he pressed his lips to her nipples and sucked, rolling them with his tongue. Small noises came out of her, erotic and full of pleasure, every time he sucked a peak into his mouth and thrust his hips against hers. He continued until he felt as if his dick might burst, and then he buried his face in the side of her neck.
She arched up against him with a small cry.
“Shit, I think I broke a rule.” He pulled back, breathing heavy, and stared at the small indentation of teeth on her neck. Not a mating mark—a bonding bite would be a full, open-mouth tooth impression on both sides of her shoulder to notify the world she was his. It was intended to be permanent. Werewolves rarely experienced the urge to mark a female unless chemistry aligned. He wasn’t sure if he tried to mark her if it’d stick. It might heal by the following day. Shit, he wanted to put his mark on her.
Not happening.
“I’ll heal,” she said as if in answer to the debate in his head. “I liked it.”
He pulled off his clothes and returned his mouth to her breasts. He sucked on the sensitive skin and bit down, licked and repeated until she was clawing him and shaking beneath him.
He pressed his fingers along the slick heat between her legs. “You smell incredible. I have to taste.”
Her chest rose and fell rapidly as she pushed up to look him in the eyes. Her gaze was wild, her hair a beautiful mess.
“Do it. Please, give me some goddamned relief,” she said.
Bolts of lust shot down his spine.
He lifted her hips, and his mouth was on her. His fingers dug into her butt as he kept her in place. One long stroke of his tongue licked and penetrated.
Her body shot off the bed. “Michael, I won’t last long.”
Neither would he at this rate. His lack of relief was almost too painful, but he was good with pain even if he was tempted to reach between his legs and start pumping. But right now was about her and her needs.
He pressed his hand to her navel to keep her in place while he flicked his tongue along her. Her body arched toward him when he pulled away and shuddered when he touched her again. She dug her fingers into his scalp. He shook his head to get some freedom.
“Yes…please, make me come,” she pleaded.
He released her stomach from his hold to place two fingers inside her while moving his tongue. Her body tensed and hands released him to grip the sheets. He wanted to see her mouth and hated the makeshift mask. And then she screamed his name so loud, he wondered if the entire house heard her. Not good.
But at the moment, he didn’t give enough of a shit to do anything about it. Never had he been so determined to have a woman be satisfied.
He continued even as she constricted around his fingers, making her come over and over with the small movements until her legs were shaking. Then he slowed until she was sated.
He scooped her up tenderly, her body still lax, and lay next to her on the bed. He tucked his head into the spot where her shoulder met her neck, caught in the veil of her hair.
“Michael? What’s going on? What’s this stopping again?”
Sighing a long exhale, he said, “I wanted that to be about you.”
“I want the same for you. Let me touch you.”
He stroked her cheek. “Stay a few minutes and then you’re going to leave.”
Chapter Sixteen
That had been amazing. And now he wanted her to leave?
Uh, no.
“What’s going on?” Mustering courage to safeguard her heart against whatever rejection he planned to send her way, she turned toward him.
He seemed guarded as if protecting himself.
“This isn’t casual for me, Michael. It’s scary and new, but I understand the rules. One night. I want everything, not just the sampler platter.”
He stroked his hand over her hair and pressed light kisses across the scarf over her lips. “I’m…not sure. This scrap of fabric might not be enough.”
She slid her hand up his chest to his neck. “Please, don’t stop. You don’t seem like a quitter to me. You have to trust me when I say I’ve got the biting controlled.”
&
nbsp; He rolled above her again and paused. “I want to kiss you.”
His grip on her jaw increased as the pressure built between them. Chills scattered over her limbs, causing her to shiver at the ferocity of his gaze. God, the way he made her feel, like she was about to explode as need built and built inside her.
“Me, too. It’s okay. We can do this without kissing,” she said.
He moved his lips down her neck, no longer gentle but sucking and biting, claiming her as his.
“I need to be inside you.” He sounded so desperate as he pressed against her entrance and pressed himself inside just a bit.
Her eyes widened. “Michael…”
He moved deeper. So slow. Ridiculously slow.
Oh my God. He was so big.
He worked into her with a rocking motion, but sweat sheened over his entire body. The tension in him signaled this wasn’t him. This was him thinking he had to be this for her.
“I need fast. I need the friction,” she said.
“Ah, Christ.” He started to pump into her, moving her forward and back with the strength of each thrust. “It’s never been this good. Never felt this…”
“Same,” she gasped. “Faster.”
He propped one hand on the mattress for leverage. The headboard slammed into the wall.
She cried out as she came again, her mind blissed out.
He paused and waited until she came down from the high. “I think I want to feel you do that once more before it’ll be enough for me.”
Chest heaving, she was boneless and floating. “There’s more?”
He chuckled as he helped her turn over with her stomach against the bed. He lifted her hair to kiss from her neck to her shoulder where his mouth hovered. His jaw opened wide, covering her full shoulder. One werewolf bite could chew through her. A “light” nip would mark her. The tips of his sharp teeth teased her skin, sending chills shooting down her back. If things were different, she’d want to feel the full impact of those teeth sinking into her skin. Of him branding her as his.
“You want this, Kiera? You ache for me to bite hard enough to mark you?”