Page 20 of Operation Wolf: Eli
“It’s only natural that you were afraid of me. Most people are afraid of wolves and with good reason. They’re ruthless killing machines when agitated. Just look at how things have gone since I kidnapped you. I . . .”
Instinctively, I leaned in and closed the gap between us with my lips. I hated the bitter note in Eli’s voice, and though I knew kissing him was a very bad idea, I couldn’t help my desire to ease a little of his pain. A spark of pleasure lit inside me at the feel of his soft lips, but they were frozen. Undaunted, I continued to kiss him until he responded, brushing his lips against mine in return. He quickly warmed up, pressing forward but making sure to be careful with my ribs. His tongue tested the seam of my lips in a way that quickened my breath. Opening my mouth, I let him in and then moaned as he swept his wicked tongue over mine, hot, wet, and demanding.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d tasted something so good, so decadent . . . so right.
Suddenly, it was all over, Eli collapsing back onto his own seat and breathing hard. “That was . . .” He swallowed. “I’ll be right back,” he said abruptly. Then he was gone.
A lump formed in my throat as he slid the compartment door closed behind him.
What the fuck did I do wrong?
I’d thought he was enjoying the kiss as much as I was by the way he responded to me, but clearly, I was wrong. He’d practically run from the room, as if my kiss were poison.
Maybe it’s better this way.
I blinked back the tears threatening to fall. I wiped my mouth against the back of my hand, wishing I had something to get the taste of him out of my mouth, but there was nothing to drink inside the compartment.
Guess I should have asked for that hot chocolate, after all.
Gingerly, I stood up, opening the drapes and trying to lose myself in the starry night sky and dim silhouettes of rolling hills that lay beyond the glass pane. But all I could see were beautiful gold eyes that glowed in the lamplight and soft brown fur that felt like silk against my hand.
Fuck, Eli . . .
