Page 59 of Father of the Wolf

Hope moved the short distance from her lips to his. Her hands clutched at his back. Her body was cradled and engulfed by his.

Her car door suddenly opened, ripping her from their moment together. All at once, Athair tugged her out of the vehicle and into his embrace. “I had to have more than a daydream,” he muttered before crushing her between his passion and the side of the Beetle.

How had he gotten from the car? Why?

That stick thing. The gearshift. He explored her mouth, dancing with her tongue. This was not the gentle man from last night. This Athair was driven by need. He didn’t ask, he demanded.

And she met his demands. His seeking hands found her willing flesh, each touch setting her ablaze. The tingle of electricity between them only sharpened her raging desire.

Athair’s hand slid beneath her loose blouse to cup her breast and brush his thumb over its sensitive tip, which tightened and warmed with his energy. His other hand slipped to her hip, burning Hope through the thin denim of her jeans, igniting her in flames.

She wanted to be a part of him. Even his body pushing against hers wasn’t enough. Her arms wrapped around his neck, clutching him as if he might dare take even a breath without sharing it with her.

His hand gripped her behind, lifting, grinding her belly against his hardness. Her right leg stole around his, rising higher as her hips shifted to allow them to move closer. With his free arm supporting her, she tightened both legs around his waist.

He ground hard against her center, while his lips still dominated her. His hand abandoned her breast and cradled the nape of her neck.

She tore her mouth free to gasp in air, and then kissed him back to match his fervor.

“What is it between us?” she asked.

“I have never felt this before.” She felt his joy and something else that was so powerful that it tightened her throat and brought tears to her eyes. “But we must have bonded, as my heart races each time we touch. I can’t imagine being anywhere but your arms.” His lips roamed from hers, and he placed tiny, feather-light kisses across her cheek, below her ear, and down her neck. Although her scarring was gone, she still wore a turtleneck blouse from habit. He bit into the thin fabric and tore it, baring her throat and one shoulder.

She pulled back at the barbaric, lustful ripping sound, so possessive and dominant that her heart pounded at the very thought of his power being released in violence. Would he be dangerous? He met her gaze. No, he would not hurt her. He might be a danger to her wardrobe, but not to her. Never her.

“Bonding is nice. I like bonding.” Hope’s head fell back as her body arched into Athair’s.

“As do I.” His head dipped to her exposed neck, nuzzling and kissing her skin.

“What if someone is watching?” Hope said, suddenly realizing that only the car separated them from the open field.

“No one can see us here behind the Bug. And besides, you feel too good for me to stop,” Athair said.

“I wish I was wearing a skirt.”

His chest rumbled against her with a low growl. She saw a glint in his eye.

“Don’t you dare rip my jeans,” she said.

“Then get them off. I need to be inside you.”

She slid her feet back to the ground and unfastened her zipper. He helped push her pants down her hips. She kicked off her sandals and stepped from the circle of denim.

No sooner was she free of her jeans than Athair pushed her back against the car, holding her there with his roaming hands and body weight. She wrapped her legs around him before remembering her panties.

They proved to be no problem. Athair reached to one side and tore them free of her hips. Hope moved slightly, allowing the small peach scrap to fall to the ground.

As she tightened her legs, she realized he had done some undressing as well and was pressed hard against her, ready to plunge deep where they both wanted him to be. She shifted her weight, grinding her hips, drawing his tip into her waiting wet heat. He held still as she moved over his shaft. Deeper and deeper. Slowly easing over him, then pulling back, teasing both herself and Athair.

His stillness shattered as she withdrew. He pushed Hope against the warm metal, plunging deep and fast into her with relentless, driving, long, hard strokes that burned and begged. She was aching and needy, clutching at him and rocking into his thrusts. Both were panting and ready.

His hands gripped, his entries quickened, as he pounded into her. She tightened around him, crying out with her orgasm as he joined her, stiffening in his completion.

Chapter Nineteen

The Teaghlach

Dicey Diplomacy

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