Page 79 of What a Wolf Demands

“Lily,” he said, sobering. He dropped his gaze to her mouth, his eyes darkened by desire.

Somehow, she managed to string enough brain cells together to ask, “Yes?”

“I’m going to steal another.”

Yes. She could only think it, because his lips were on hers—warm and soft and . . . reverent.

He came to her with such reverence, she thought as he slid a gentle hand through her hair. He was careful not to rest his full weight on her as he claimed her mouth, stroking his tongue along hers in languid caresses that stoked her passion higher and higher. He plunged in and out of her mouth, mimicking what he’d done in the past with his cock. When she moaned into his mouth, he slid a hand down her ribcage and under the hem of her sweater.

As soon as his warm hand touched her bare skin, she nudged his shoulders, eager to give him more access.

He chuckled low in his throat and lifted off her, going to his knees so he could help her remove the bulky garment. When she was free of it, he turned his attention to her jeans, unbuttoning the fly, then working the tight denim to her hips. When he got to her knees, he reached down and tugged off her socks one by one, sending them sailing over the edge of the bed.

She lifted her hips so he could pull her jeans off. His hand brushed the top of her sex. Desire pulsed between her legs, and she gasped.

“Dom . . .”

“Yes, baby,” he said as if he knew exactly what she wanted. And he did. He’d more than proved it.

He made short work of her bra and panties, until she was totally bared to him. Warm air from the stove teased her skin and the damp heat between her legs, but it was nothing compared to the fire in his gaze. He took his time looking at her, starting from her toes and working his way up. He stopped at her sex, and his eyes burned with unconcealed lust.

Her inner muscles clenched, and a rush of moisture flooded her. She twisted her hands into the covers on either side of her hips. There was something undeniably erotic about being nude while he was fully clothed—as if she was a courtesan on display for her protector, her naked body stretched out for his perusal.

His gaze moved north, taking in her belly and aching breasts. Her nipples grew taut under his regard, the tips ultra-sensitive. Maybe he’d lean down and suck one into his mouth as he had before. An image of his dark head lowered to her chest popped into her mind, and she swallowed a moan.

He reached out with a trembling hand and covered her sex, palming her curls and sensitive lips.

Instinct took over, and she parted her legs, her body desperate for his touch.

He gave it to her. Turning his hand, he slipped a finger between her folds, finding her clit.

“Ungh.” She gripped the blankets as her thighs opened of their own accord. Her nipples tightened, the tips stabbing upward along the lower edge of her vision.

Dom muttered a curse under his breath. He stroked his finger down to her opening, dipped briefly inside, then slid back up to her clit, spreading moisture over the tiny center of her desire.

A ribbon of need curled within her, furling tighter and tighter. She squeezed her thighs together, trapping his forearm between her legs.

His finger splitting her lips, he continued to work her clit, the muscles in his arm flexing against her quivering thighs. With his free hand, he cupped her breast, his thumb flicking over her hardened nipple.

It was as if he’d drawn a line between the taut peak and the wicked finger fondling her clit. Tension vibrated along it, traveling a white-hot current back and forth across her body. Sweat dampened her temples, and her breaths came in short, gasping pants. Heat spread across her chest. Her nipples grew even tighter. The fluttering edge of release hovered just out of reach.

He increased the pressure, making tight, slippery circles.

Almost there. Any second, she was going to fly off to another place.

But she wanted him with her.

“Dom,” she gasped, meeting his gaze.

Understanding lit his eyes. He moved faster than she would have thought possible, sliding to the floor and throwing off his clothes like his skin was on fire.

Maybe it was. Maybe they were both burning, helpless in the face of the inferno that promised to devour them both.

Nude, he bent and fiddled with something near his ankle. There was a tearing sound, like cloth ripping, then he stood, a small pistol in his hand.

She blinked. “You have a gun.”

“I always have a gun.” He leaned over and shoved it in the top of the nightstand. Then he climbed back on the bed, his biceps flexing as he braced himself. “I’m a Telepath, Lily.”

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