Page 66 of Wolf's Keep
“And kneed him in the balls.”
He winced, his own groin flinching. “I know whatthatfeels like.”
“You handled it much better than he did. It dropped him to the floor.”
Gaharet chuckled. “I can imagine.” He shook his head. “Oh, Erin.” He brought her palm up to his lips, planting a soft kiss on it. “You are an amazing woman.”
She gasped and bit her bottom lip. “I am?”
“Oh, yes.” His lips trailed a line down the inside of her wrist. “I am so glad I was the one who found you.”
She frowned. “And why is that?”
He slid the flared sleeve of her dress back, ignoring her question, nibbling at the sensitive skin on the inside of her elbow.
“Why would you be willing to fight for me?”
He paused, lips hovering over her soft skin. Only his men could know that. “Did Renaud tell you that?”
“Among other things,” she said, borrowing his words.
Gaharet released her arm, unfolded himself from the stool and, placing a palm behind her neck, pulled her closer. She did not resist.
“Among other things?”
He leaned in, dragging in her heady scent, dropping soft, open-mouthed kisses on the curve of her throat, his tongue flicking out to taste her. He repressed a moan, every part of his body demanding he pick her up, throw her on the bed and touch her, taste her, have her writhing beneath him until she screamed out his name and begged for release.
“He said you’d turn me into a werewolf.”
Gaharet stilled, the frantic beat of her pulse fluttering beneath his lips. “Do you believe him?”
“I… I don’t know.” Her voice quivered, but she did not pull away.
Gaharet lifted her chin, forcing her to look at him. “Are you afraid of me now, Erin?”
She stared at him, confusion, uncertainty and awareness flashing across her face. Nostrils flaring, he caught the scent of her arousal. Afraid or not, believer or nonbeliever, she wanted him.
Gaharet stepped away from her, unlaced his surcoat, removed it and laid it across the stool. She tracked his every move. She yearned for this. Her body told him everything he needed to know—the rapid beat of her heart, the glazed look in her eyes, the slight tilt of her head exposing her sensitive throat.
He shrugged out of his mail, dropping it to the floor, unlacing and divesting himself of his padded gambeson. His vambraces and greaves followed, cast aside. Her eyes never left him, devouring him, as hungry for him as he was for her.
Her breathing became shallower as he stepped closer, circling her, until she all but panted with her need for him. He stepped up behind her, leaning close to her ear, all thoughts of Renaud and Lothair gone, replaced by visions of her beneath him as he thrust into her.
“I would never hurt you,” he whispered, nipping at her earlobe, the shiver coursing through her body, fanning his own desire. He ran his fingers down her spine, her body arching in response, and his own hunger burst forth, a deep, possessive growl escaping his throat and his hands shaking.
Be gentle.
Gaharet gritted his teeth. He would keep his word. He would not hurt her and he wouldnotlet the beast loose tonight.
She reached up, releasing the pins from the concealing headscarf, letting the material fall to the floor. Raising her hands above her head, she waited for him to remove her overdress. She was giving him her permission, coming to him willingly. His blood pounded in his veins. She knew, in the dark recesses of her mind, she knew—whether she admitted it or not—and she would still have him. Knowing this made his hands tremble and his cock throb. He had found his mate at long last.
Gaharet took a deep breath, lifting the heavy material over her head, letting it join her headscarf. He unlaced her under-dress, scarcely touching her, slipping the garment from her shoulders. It fell with a rustle of fabric. Her chemise followed.
His breath caught. His mouth went dry. “What manner of clothing is this?” He ran his fingers over the thin strip of material clinging to her body. He had imagined her bare beneath the garment, but this…this scrap of material slipping between the cleft of her cheeks inflamed him in a way his imaginings had not.
“It’s called a—”
She broke off with a gasp as he gave in to temptation, kneeling down, dropping soft kisses and nibbles at the base of her spine, his fingers playing with the stretchy material.Mon Dieu,the woman tested his control. Had he known, while she explored his keep, sat across the table from him to dine and read his books in his library, she had been wearingthisbeneath her gown, he would never have been able to resist her until now.
