Page 44 of What a Wolf Demands

He glanced at the bed. Maybe he should move her—

She let out a series of harsh pants. On the last one, she turned her head and met his gaze, her eyes clear and comprehending. “Prado . . .” Her voice was breathless—and lower than he’d heard it. “Please. It hurts so bad.”

Her back. She had to mean her back.

He rose on his knees. “Here. Let me help.” Intending to push her lower half to the floor, he placed his hands on her hips.

The second he touched her, she moaned and jerked her pelvis against his grip.

He yanked his hands back.

She cried out. Sweat dotted her forehead. “Please,” she gasped, tears filling her eyes. “It’s never been like this before.”

Before?

As if an invisible force seized her, she undulated her hips, a strangled cry breaking from her throat. Her robe gave up the battle at last, parting all the way down the middle and leaving only the thin strip of white terrycloth belt circling her belly.

The rest of her was totally exposed, from her delicate collarbones to her slender thighs and polished toenails.

Red.

Unable to stop himself, he let his gaze climb up her body. Long, long legs led to knees dusted with freckles. She scissored her legs against the carpet, flinging the robe open even more. Her thighs parted.

The scent of feminine arousal hit his nostrils.

Knowledge slammed into him like a freight train.

She wasn’t sick. She was aroused. Powerfully so.

He’d been a fool not to see it before.

It was there in her flushed cheeks and dark, pointed nipples. In the way she clawed at the floor and tossed her head.

And her sex . . .

He’d avoided looking at her there. Of course he had.

But he couldn’t now. He looked—and caught his breath.

A dusting of bright red curls covered the juncture of her thighs. As she lifted her hips again, he caught a glimpse of smooth, plump lips and glistening moisture. She was all strawberries and cream—pale skin set off by a small triangle of fire. The erotic sight held his gaze like a lodestone, making blood flee his brain and shoot straight to his cock.

She arched harder, giving him another tantalizing look at her sex. Her thighs spread wider with her movements, parting her delicate folds and revealing the lush, pink core within.

His heart thumped a painful rhythm against his ribs. Confusion and desire and guilt twisted a tight trio inside him, and jumbled thoughts sped through his mind.

He should get up and leave the room.

He should go for help.

He shouldn’t be looking at her this way.

He couldn’t help looking at her this way.

He needed to . . . He needed . . .

He needed.

“Prado.” Her throaty gasp made him jerk his gaze to hers.

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