Page 67 of Wolf's Keep
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Erin let her head fall back, a soft moan escaping her lips. Her fingers itched to touch him, but two firm hands prevented her from turning around as he slipped her thong over her hips, down her legs to the floor, and she stepped out of it. His fingers slid up the backs of her legs, caressing the sensitive skin behind her knees. He palmed her cheeks before moving up her spine to the clasp of her bra.
“And this?” he asked, a hint of confusion in his voice. Fingers followed the strap of her bra over her shoulder. They paused, reaching the lacy cups encasing her breasts. His strangled groan had her nipples beading and her clit throbbing. His hands hovered over the wisps of lace, tracing the patterns in the fabric. Erin swayed against him, waves of desire pulsing through her. She longed for more—a squeeze, a suck, her nipples hard and ready for his attention. When she could bear it no longer, she reached behind her back and undid the clasp, slipping her bra to the floor.
She turned to face him, her vulnerable flesh quivering, needy and aching. His dark gaze burned, flitting over every naked inch of her, the force of his lust slamming into her. A growl rumbled in his chest, deep and throaty. Her skin prickled and her thighs clenched.
He touched his mouth to hers. A gentle caress, his tongue sliding across her bottom lip, teasing her mouth open, and she let him in, matching his desire and more. She plastered herself to him, searching for a way to get to his skin. The need to feel him, touch him, burned. She hungered—the strength of her need overpowering and a little frightening. No man had ever aroused her like this.
She whimpered under his tender touch. It wasn’t enough. Where was the full-blooded male, the hard warrior, the man who commanded an army? The Gaharet who’d chased her when she ran, demanding his victory kiss? The man who had boldly stated his intentions, declaring she would be his?Hewas the one who captivated her, pushed at her boundaries, daring her to desire something she’d convinced herself she’d never, ever wanted. This gentle Gaharet, this…tenderness… It was…nice. She didn’twantnice. Hard to believe she’deverwanted nice. She craved the confident, powerful, overtly sexual Gaharet d’Louncrais, whose hungry gaze followed her everywhere.
“Please,” she begged, her hands clutching at his tunic. He left her mouth, trailing delicate kisses down her jawline. “I need…”
She snaked her hand down his body, cupping his erection, rubbing her hand along his hardened length, articulating what she wanted with her actions far better than her words.
He groaned, his cock twitching beneath her hand. “I am trying to be gentle,” he growled against her throat. “Stop making it so damn difficult.”
She forced her fingers up under his tunic. They skidded across his toned abdomen. “To hell with gentle.”
She pulled at the tie on his leggings, her desperate fingers fumbling with the laces.
“I am trying hard not to lose control, my little filly.”
Soft kisses down her throat punctuated his words, the sweet endearment melting her heart.
She mewled in protest. “But I want you to.”
A throaty chuckle against her neck spiked heat through her body. “No, you do not. Not yet,” he rasped, his breathing heavy, the muscles of his stomach quivering beneath her hand.
“I could always run,” she whispered into his ear.
Breath hissed from between his teeth. He shook his head at her. “No.”
She pulled away from him, catching her bottom lip between her teeth. Whatever it took. His gaze fixated on her mouth. She let her tongue slip out and slowly, deliberately, she licked her lips. A guttural groan escaped his throat. She spun on her heel and raced around the bed.
In two steps, he’d bounded over it, trapping her within his arms, crushing her in his embrace. He took her mouth in a savage kiss, giving her no quarter, his tongue invading, a frenzied tangling with hers, leaving no space unexplored, unclaimed.
Yes!
Here, now, dark hair tousled and loose about his face, she could imagine him a werewolf. His strength, his power, his rawness barely contained, burned in the shifting shadows of his dark eyes. A shiver ran through her. It excited her, stoked the smoldering coals of her desire to a raging blaze, consuming her. There was only one way to put that fire out. Him.
“I need you naked,” she whimpered into his mouth, tugging at his clothing.
He released her, stripping away the last of his clothing and his boots, and pulled her back into his embrace, smashing his mouth against hers.
Oh God.
His skin was against hers. She’d fantasized about this since they’d met, how it’d feel to have his body pressed together, withbothof them naked. The reality took her breath away.
He groaned, spinning her around so fast it made her dizzy, pushing her back onto the bed, covering her body with his. The weight of something dropped on her chest, gold glinting in the flickering light of the oil lamps.
His amulet?
The thought was fleeting as greedy hands caressed her body—a slide down the underside of her breast, a touch at her waist, a caress on her inner thigh. Her legs parted. Wet and ready for his touch, all her brain functions ceased, lost in sensation.
“Erin,” he murmured, a husky rumble against her collarbone.
Even the way he said her name affected her.
