Page 10 of Wolf Chosen

This is the kiss of a man who knows exactly what he's doing, who pours every ounce of intensity and passion into the simple act of joining our mouths. I should push him away, but something stops me. I need to extricate from his iron embrace before this goes any further than it should. He can't want this, not really, not with someone like me, someone living on borrowed time with an expiration date.

Liam doesn't relent, doesn't give me a chance to foster a thought. His mouth remains fused to mine, his full lips molding against my own with a scorching intensity that sends a thrill through me. I taste the faint tang of coffee on his tongue, smell the intoxicating blend of cedarwood with deep, musky masculine undertones on his skin.

He shifts his weight, angling his head to deepen the kiss as one large hand cups the back of my skull, holding me in place. And then his tongue sweeps boldly past the seam of my lips, delving into the moist heat of my mouth to taste and explore and conquer. The strangled sound that escapes me is caught somewhere between a whimper and a moan of pure, unadulterated need as liquid fire burns my veins.

Every nerve ending is set ablaze, every inch of my skin raised in gooseflesh as his calloused palm skims over the sloping curve of my back. He pulls me flush against the hard planes of his body, eliminating space between us until I can feel his heartbeat against my own rapidly fluttering pulse.

The hand not cradling my head drifts lower, his fingertips searing a path of exquisite torture along the dip of my spine before settling possessively at the flare of my hips. He uses that grip to anchor me to him, to grind my softness against the undeniable evidence of his arousal until I can't help but shudder against him.

It's been so long—too long—since I've allowed myself to lose control like this, to surrender to the hunger that flames through my veins. Liam is relentless, his mouth devouring mine with an intensity that obliterates reason and self-restraint. All I can do is cling to him, fisting my hands in the soft fabric of his shirt as I'm swept away by a raging torrent of desire.

Ever since my diagnosis, I've shut that part of myself off, locking it away where it can't tempt me with what I can never have. How can I indulge in intimacy, in the most fleeting of pleasures, when my future holds nothing but a slow, agonizing decline into oblivion?

To become attached, to open up to any kind of deep connection, only to have it ripped away... no, it's better to deny myself entirely, to exist in a state of solitude where heartbreak can never take hold.

And yet, as Liam's strong arms band around my waist and pull me flush against the hard planes of his body, I can't help remembering what it feels like to be desired… to be wanted and cherished and coveted.

I haven’t felt this way in so long. No, that’s not quite right.

I haven’t felt like this ever.

His kiss is pure seduction, an ardent promise of so much more to come if only I'll let myself surrender to the heat blazing between us.

There is something more to this kiss.

This kiss is a promise that has arousal blooming to slick life between my thighs, has my core clenching with an aching need. For a few moments, I'm tempted—so incredibly tempted—to let go, to lose myself in this fantasy. To pretend, if only for a little while, that I'm a normal woman kissing an exceptionally virile man, with no greater concern than where this delicious torment might lead.

But I can’t, can’t allow myself to give in to the lie, regardless of how tempting that dream may be. At the end of the day, that's all it is. A fleeting illusion that will soon be shattered by the cold, brutal reality of my condition.

I won’t do that to him. To us. No matter how tempting the prospect.

With every ounce of willpower I possess, I tear my lips from his, panting as I fight to regain my equilibrium. My cheeks are hot, my lips swollen and tingling and when I finally find the strength to meet his gaze, I'm transfixed by the blazing intensity I find there, a look of such naked hunger and undisguised yearning that it very nearly shatters my resolve entirely.

I swallow thickly, forcing words out that I don’t want to say. I grip his shirt in my fingers as though anchoring myself to him will make this any easier. “Thank you for... that, but…this can never happen again, do you understand?”

His brow lowers, the scorching heat in his eyes giving way to an emotion I can't quite put my finger on - something that looks suspiciously like hurt. A strange faint ache starts up in my chest that I ignore but I can't let myself dwell on that, can't afford to get drawn back into the pull of whatever this is between us.

“You should understand that whatever we begin has an expiration date. So please... please don't make this any harder than it already is.”

The anguish that contorts his features in that moment very nearly breaks me and I blink useless tears away. I can't back down, can't allow myself to be swayed onto a path that leads only to devastation and sorrow, and I'll be damned if I'll be the one to take either of us down it.

Not when the end is inevitable.

I pull away from Liam. It's harder than I thought to extricate myself from his embrace. An invisible cord tugs me back toward him even as I make myself step away but it’s nothing more than a figment of my imagination, a desperate manifestation to feel a connection I've denied myself.

I manage to make my way from the kitchen, fleeing down the quiet corridor to the sanctuary of my room blinking back the sting of tears. The moment the door closes behind me, I collapse back against the sturdy oak, sliding down until I'm crumpled in a heap on the carpet as the floodgates finally burst.

Great, wrenching sobs tear from my throat, my entire body shaking with the force of them as I finally give voice to the raging storm of emotions. Grief and longing, hope and desolation all come pouring out in a torrent of anguish.

Yet even as the tears stream down my cheeks, an odd sort of calm begins to settle over me, emanating from warmth blooming in the center of my chest. Frowning, I press a hand to the spot, feeling a steady thrum spread outward, muting the sharp edges of my sorrow into a dull, hollow ache. I close my eyes and sink into the gentle warmth that takes the cutting edge of reality away. Anything to stop this hurting so much.

I don't realize I've drifted off until I'm blinking awake once more, the inky blackness of night cloaking the world outside my window. A tantalizing aroma wafts beneath the door, setting my stomach to rumbling with a sudden, ferocious hunger.

Pushing to my feet, I pull the door open and find a plate sitting on the floor with a gleaming metal dome covering it. Lifting the lid reveals a thick, juicy burger—clearly Liam's handiwork from the kitchen earlier. Despite my rejection, he still went to the trouble of preparing it for me.

There's no sign of the man himself lingering in the hallway, and I can't decide if I'm relieved or disappointed by his absence as I gather up the plate and retreat back into my room. What I do know is that the scent of the food is irresistible and has my mouth watering in a way it hasn't in a long time. Before I can even think twice about it, I lift the burger to my lips and take a ravenous bite, a low moan of pure bliss escaping me as the flavors explode over my tongue.

It's divine, rich and savory and so satisfying that I nearly inhale the entire thing in a matter of minutes. By the time the last crumb has been devoured, I'm equal parts sated and exhausted, as if the simple act of eating actual food has drained me of what little reserves of energy remained.

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