Page 104 of What a Wolf's Heart Decides

She clutched his head against her neck, her breaths coming in little pants. And when he pulled back, she made a soft sound of protest.

But he had to pull back. Because he had to see her.

He wasn’t disappointed.

Even in his wildest imaginings, he couldn’t have conjured such a sight. His breath hitched and every nerve ending came alive as he surveyed the riot of beauty laid out before him.

She sprawled on a carpet of green vines and pink roses, her golden skin damp from the bath. Her face was flushed, her full lips nearly the same shade as the double-headed roses beneath her. Her breasts rose and fell as she panted, her nipples as lush and tempting as the blooms.

But he already tasted her there.

He wanted to taste her somewhere else.

For a moment, he let himself imagine what they looked like from above—him fully clothed, her gloriously nude. She watched him through narrowed eyes, the sky blue darkened to a lust-driven cobalt.

He let his gaze wander down her body, past her trembling breasts and flat belly to the sweet juncture of her thighs. Time seemed to slow as he dared to touch her there, his palm cupping the smooth mound.

“You’re bare here,” he said, his speech distorted by fangs that had descended without him realizing it.

But she understood, because she gave a tentative nod. “I prefer it.”

Fuck, so did he. So much so that he couldn’t even find words to tell her. He ran his thumb down the seam of her plump lips, brushing her clit.

She gasped and parted her thighs, flowers shuddering around her.

For a moment, he forgot to breathe. Her pussy was as gorgeous as any rose, her denuded labia like damp petals around the tight bud of her desire. Cream pooled at her entrance. Unable to resist, he put a finger there, and she jerked and moaned. Slowly, he traced a slick path around her opening, coating her with her own juices.

“Bard.”

At her gasp, he looked up, his finger still poised at her entrance.

She licked her lips. “It’s . . . been a while for me.”

There was apprehension in her gaze where there hadn’t been before. Instantly, he withdrew his hand.

“No!” She half sat up, one elbow pressed into the roses. “Don’t stop! I don’t want you to stop.” As if to prove her point, she let her thighs fall wide.

He tore his gaze from the sight, his hand clenched in a fist to stop himself from touching her. “We shouldn’t—”

“We should!” She grabbed his hand in both of hers and brought it to her chest, her soft breasts rubbing his knuckles. “Please, Bard. I didn’t mean to ruin it. Please.”

God, she sounded young. She was young. Not too young for what they were doing, but definitely too young for him. She deserved better. Someone her own age—a young, whole male who could defend her against any enemy. He tugged against her grip.

She jerked him right back, then grasped his jaw with strong fingers, forcing his gaze to hers.

Startled, he let her.

“You don’t get to do that this time,” she said, her voice low and fierce. “You don’t get to run away.”

Run? Outrage sparked in his veins. He’d never run from anything in his life. “I’m not—”

“Yes, you are.” Her brows came together in a frown, and anger made her words sharp as a blade. Like a blade, they found his sore spots and twisted. “You think I’m too young for you. That I don’t know what I want.”

His own anger surged. “You don’t know what you want.”

“Yes, I do. And it’s arrogant for you to think you know what’s best for me.”

He covered her fingers with his, attempting to loosen her grip without hurting her. “Haley, listen—”

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