Page 40 of Wanderlust With Wolves

I used to think I had to sacrifice everything—security for freedom, stability for adventure.

I thought wanting both was selfish.

That having dreams, needing space, making plans meant I had to choose between who I was and who I could love.

That I had to spend money to make up for what others lacked, to prove my worth.

With Ronan, I don’t feel used.

I don’t feel selfish for having goals.

And, for the first time in my life, I don’t feel restless.

With Ronan, I feel adventurous.

And he?

He just wants to be with me.

I sit cross-legged on an alpine chair, laptop propped up, tapping away at some overdue work.

Ronan strides over, his presence a quiet storm, all heat and heavy golden eyes.

He stops in front of me, arms crossed over his broad, furred chest, tail twitching.

“You save your work?” he rumbles.

I blink up at him. “Uh, yeah?”

A slow, wicked grin spreads over his face.

“Good,” he says.

Then—

He hauls me inside of the van like I weigh nothing, sets me on my feet, and nods toward the back seat.

“It’s time to test the new shocks.”

Curious, I climb in, expecting a test drive.

What I don’t expect?

Him pinning me down in the back of the van, his heavy, hot body caging me in.

A shiver zips down my spine, my breath catching as his hands slide up my thighs, spreading them open.

“Ronan,” I gasp, but he just leans in, nuzzling my neck, his voice thick with promise.

“This is a field test, little red,” he murmurs. “I need to know how well she handles the ride.”

And then?—

He thrusts into me, deep and rough, his hips pounding against mine, the shocks taking every jolt, every impact.

I barely have time to breathe, barely have time to think, only to feel.

The way he moves, the way he drives into me, harder, faster, until I’m bouncing beneath him, breasts heaving, body arching into every ruthless, perfect thrust.

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