Page 20 of Sexual Appetites of Werewolves

“What do you feel for me?”

She could not deny how she felt about him. “No, I can’t deny that, especially since I never felt so strongly for a man as I do for you.”

“Then embrace it and make love with me.”

“You make it sound so easy,” she said, and stopped, realizing she’d been pacing.

“It is easy. All you need to do is let go.”

“And where do I fall?”

“Safely into my arms,” he said, stretching them out to her.

Olivia didn’t move. She couldn’t. She felt frozen to the spot. A warmth ran through her and wrapped around her, melting her resistance yet spiking her uncertainty and fear, and she hurried out of the room.

She grabbed her things from the library and rushed to her room, leaning back against the closed door with relief or possibly regret, she wasn’t certain. She paced once again after depositing her things on the chair.

She never prioritized sex in her life. Never truly had an ache for it, until Tiernan. She could honestly say that her body had perked to life upon meeting him, and the more she got to know, even with his crazy claim of being a werewolf, the more she enjoyed being with him, and that perk began to percolate and had reached a rapid boil.

Did she abandon all reason and allow herself to let go and fall into his arms? What would it mean? The offer of a position here would vanish since he said he would never have sex with an employee. Was she willing to give that up? But how could she work with him if she had such strong feelings for him, feelings she could never act upon?

She walked to the window and looked out at the snow still falling along with the darkness. She was going to be stuck here for a while. What then? How could she continue to ignore what she felt? How long before she let herself feel some pleasure in the arms of a man, she finally had distinct feelings for? How long before she let herself love?

She added logs to the low fire to spark it, turned a low light on, and sat in the chair near the window, not at all ready for a long night of fighting with herself.

A knock and hearing her name penetrated the light sleep she found herself in. She rubbed her eyes and stretched out of the chair as the door opened and Tiernan entered, holding a tray.

“I thought you might be hungry since it’s way past supper time. A sandwich and a pot of tea.” He walked over to her and placed the tray on the table next to the chair. “If you prefer something else, we can go to the kitchen and scour the fridge and pantry to find what you might like.”

She stood staring at him, her attraction towards him overwhelming, her passion flaming, and took a step toward him when howls sounded in the distance, and she stopped.

Tiernan stepped toward her. “They are annoyed at their failure. It will do them good to prowl the night and rid themselves of their foolishness.” He stepped closer to her and ran the back of his hand along her cheek. “I never lose, and I don’t intend to lose you.”

Her resolve dissolved. “Wrong or right, I’m going to take a chance and let go?—”

“And fall right into my arms,” he said and wrapped his arms around her.

She stepped out of them with a smile and took his hand to lead him to the bed. “No, you’re going to fall into—” She gasped, finding herself scooped up in his arms.

“Nay, woman, I’m the alpha in this pack and it is my lair where we will make love.”

He kissed her. It was more potent than usual, but then she no longer shielded herself. She finally let her defenses down. But then she had finally found a man she wanted, a man she ached for.

His lair wasn’t a surprise to her. It was a mix of modern and old, tastefully done. The eye-catching piece, the one that dominated the room was the four-poster bed with a canopy that reached the ceiling and was draped in red as were the drapes that hugged the four posts.

He placed her on her feet in front of it. “You are sure that you want this, Olivia, that you want me?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” she said without an ounce of hesitation. “I never had an urge, a need for a man as much as I have for you.”

“And you will not regret it,mo ghràdh,” he said, then brushed his lips across hers before slipping her sweater off her.

She reached out to rid him of his knit shirt and he helped, yanking it off himself to toss it aside.

“Your wound,” she said, recalling it, and her eyes widened when she spotted that he wore no bandage on his shoulder.

“It healed,” he said, unbuckling his belt.

Olivia stared at him, realizing what that meant.

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