Page 56 of Unwanted

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 he frowned when he saw she was wearing something else underneath it—something white that covered her breasts. She laughed again, but as he looked up, her eyes were happy. She put her hands behind his head and brought him down to her.

They kissed for a while longer, him following her lead and quickly learning what she liked by the way she moaned and pressed her body into his. He loved the taste of her tongue. The way it was soft and wet and twisted with his. He loved the feel of her, so much smaller and more delicate than he was. It made him want to protect her and fight for her.

He wanted to do whatever she told him to do. From that moment until forever.

He brought his head down to between her breasts and inhaled there, her true smell even stronger. It made his head dizzy. It made him want to thrust and take.

He let his instincts lead him then; he couldn’t help it. He removed her clothes, needy to know her, to smell her every secret place, to have her. He didn’t want her to keep secrets from him. He wanted to know them all. To take, and then take more and more and more. To feed himself until he was finally full and then sleep and feed himself some more. On her. Animal instincts, he reminded himself. I might scare her. Woman is sacred, he whispered in his mind, the quote from the notes her mother had written about the book he hadn’t yet read.

Sacred. Something that was a treasure. To him, she was. And he was still hungry for her. He didn’t know how to balance the two sides of himself. Not when she was lying beneath him, making sweet sounds and running her fingers over his arms, through his hair.

“Jak, yes,” she moaned when he removed her boots and then her jeans, sliding them down her legs and tossing them on the floor. He came over her again, and her eyes showed a flash of fear then. He hesitated, trembling. Please don’t make me stop. But she reached for him, bringing him back to her.

He moved down her body, sniffing all the places he wanted to know, going back over her belly when she gasped. He licked her skin, tasting the sweet and the salt, nipping at it lightly so her backside came up off his bed.

He could smell the place between her legs, and the scent of it so close to his nose made him growl from the pleasure—pain—of the way his body swelled and hardened like he’d never experienced before. He ran his nose over the womanly mound beneath the cloth of her underpants, and she gripped his hair in her hands, tugging. The need to smell her there was a hunger he could not ignore, and with one quick movement, he brought the material down her legs and tossed it on the floor.

He nuzzled her with his nose and his mouth, inhaling, learning her scent so it became a part of him, and she jerked when his nose rubbed the spot below her mound.

She smelled like life, like sweet water, like fertile earth and perfectly ripened berries that would take away the pain of hunger. Her woman scent was the beginning of everything and the place where he wanted to draw his final breath. She was meant for him; he knew that now. No other woman. Only her.

He waited for the fog to clear enough that he could focus on her sounds, the way she gripped his hair and raised herself to meet his face. He moved more slowly, going lower, breathing her, his tongue darting out to taste her, to lick her sweetness. Mine, mine, mine, the whispers sang low and old like time and earth. She made a sound deep in her throat and gripped his hair more tightly, and so he lapped her again. Again. Again. He loved the way she tasted. It spoke to both sides of him—both the animal and the man. For that minute, it made him believe he could be both, that he didn’t have to choose which part of himself to turn away.

Her whimpers grew louder and closer together until finally she screamed his name, her thighs clenching around his head and then loosening slowly, her hands letting go of his hair.

He knew what had happened because it’d happened to him, that explosion of pleasure that made his skin prickle and stars burst inside his mind. And he’d made that happen to her. He felt proud. He grinned against her thigh, rubbing his lips across her silky skin.

She pulled on him, and he moved up her body, lying next to her on the bed. She turned, her eyes half lowered and a small, happy smile on her lips. She pushed his shirt up, and he removed it, tossing it on the floor, holding his breath. She ran a hand over his hair and down his face. She brought her mouth to his and kissed him slowly, and for several minutes there was nothing but her lips, her tongue, the blood pumping hotly through his body, the snap of the dying fire, and the lowering light of the cabin as the sun moved somewhere else in the sky. Her warm skin was pressed to his, and Jak had never felt anything better. Never.

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