Page 64 of Touch of Evil

“It’s not fine,” she insists. “I was too busy healing myself and never noticed how bad you were hurt. Here, let me help you.”

“Emme, you don’t have to.”

“Yes, I do,” she says.

Her soft hands slip onto my knee and gradually maneuver upward. My breath hitches. “Emme,don’t,” I rasp.

“I want to,” she whispers. “There’s a lot I want to do for you.”

She feels her way along the banged-up muscle and bone. It feels good. Amazing. And hell, if I ain’t in trouble.

I try to envision things that aren’t sexual, like kite flying. It works on Little Bren as well as you might guess. Don’t get me wrong. I see the kite. Except Emme is flying it naked.

I swipe my face and think of horses. Wild horses, galloping through a field of wheat. Except those damn horses only want to make me ride Emme.

Yeah, that mind over matter thing is just a bunch of bullshit. I give up on trying to relax, failing miserably.

Emme’s healing yellow light surrounds me in a soft embrace. It should soothe me, like it normally does, instead it arouses me. Everything about Emme is turning me on, her hair, her face, and damn, that swell of her breast peeking through the front of the flannel.

I grip the couch, trying to keep from shaking.

“There,” she says. She examines my leg. At least, I hope that’s what she’s looking at. “Much better.”

There’s not so much as a hair out of place on my thigh. It doesn’t surprise me. Emme is good at this, and everything else.

What does surprise me is her hands sliding up my chest.

“I uh, healed my ribs and such,” I tell her.

“I know, Bren,” she replies.

She tilts her chin, closes her eyes, and leans in for a kiss.

I shift away from her. “Emme, what are you doing?” I ask, like I already don’t know.

“I’m trying to return that kiss you gave me at the Watering Hole.” She pauses. “Will you let me?”

She places one knee between my legs. I groan from the pressure and the way my body responds.

It’s not me. It’s my wolf, and maybe Little Bren, too. I swear I have nothing to do with what we do next.

I grab Emme’s hips and pull her into a straddle, crashing my lips against hers.

My tongue meets her savagely.

Like the rest of her, her taste is incredible. I can’t get enough. I caress her thighs and her backside and—oh yeah—definitely not wearing panties.

Emme’s skin is warmth and silky beneath my touch. A deep moan breaks from her lips as my fingers dance along her spine. It scares the shit out of me.

I scramble up and away from her so fast; she falls back on the couch.

My shirt just barely keeps her intimate parts covered. I loom over her, shaking with need.

“What’s wrong?” she gasps.

I swallow hard. “Did I hurt you? Am I hurting you?”

She rights herself, blushing. “No, no. I really like what you’re doing,” she says.

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