Page 51 of Wounded Christmas Wolf
“He’s downstairs with Rocket,” she whispered, closing the door. “Hopefully Cupcake and his squeaky bacon will stay there. Where were we before all of that happened?”
She shed the bathrobe, and Jace moved to undress her in the lamplight.
This was a delight, as more and more of her pink, freckle-dotted skin emerged where previously he had only received tantalizing guesses at what was under her practical sweaters. Taking off his own clothes, he found himself more reticent.
“I haven’t been with anyone in a long time,” he whispered, feeling self-conscious about his hesitation. “I don’t know what I’m going to ...”
“It’s all right,” she murmured. “We can go as slow as you like. Leave some clothes on if you want.”
But he didn’t want to. It seemed right that there should be nothing between them tonight—not clothes, and not secrets.
He shed his shirt. Holly gave a soft gasp when she saw the scars.
The pale marks crossed his flank and hip like a starburst web of scar tissue. It had healed noticeably, faded almost to invisibility around the edges; shifters were fast healers, even for something like this. He would always bear traces, but hehadn’t looked at it himself in so long that he was genuinely startled to see how much of it was gone.
He had to make himself look at Holly for her reaction. But there was no disgust in her face, no hesitation. She reached out hesitantly, then stopped.
“Does it hurt to touch?”
“No. Not anymore.”
In the lamplight, she gently caressed the scarred areas and the edges where it met the healthy, hairier skin of his chest.
Jace shed his jeans, and Holly traced the scars lightly to the top of his underwear. Her fingers danced across his skin, a light, teasing touch.
“Do you mind if I ask what happened?”
“Chemical fire,” he said quietly. “In a supply depot. It’s what led to my discharge. I ended up back stateside to recover.”
The accident was what had really sent his wolf out of control. Tonight, though, he had no sense of the wolf as anything other than a part of himself. When he gazed at Holly in the lamplight, he had no sense that he was going to lose control. No hint of biting unless he wanted to.
“It’s okay to touch here,” he breathed, moving his own hand to cover hers. He pressed her fingers where he wanted them to go. “And ... here. And here. Definitely here.”
“How about here?” She pressed her lips to the rough patch where pinkish-white scars gave way to a curling thatch of chest here.
“There, yes,” he whispered. He took her hand again, placed it on his hip, in the most intensely scarred area. “Touch me here.”
She did. And moved her hand down. And then there was not much talking for a while.
“Condom?” he managed. “I—I don’t have one.”
“I have an implant. I’m good with ... whatever. You said you haven’t been with anyone since ...”
“No. Not in a long time.”
“Then I’m fine with that. I don’t think there’d be anything in the house that’s not expired anyway. And ...” She looked up into his face, eyes shining in the lamplight. “I want to feel you inside me.”
It took all his self-control to hold on when she closed around him, hot and slick and wet. The bed creaked when they moved too vigorously, so he struggled to contain himself, holding back to short, shallow thrusts, until she gasped and arched and came apart under him, muffling her high-pitched moans in his neck.
Those little sounds combined with her willing, excited writhing undid him. It was as if a fire swept through him, taking him over. His heart hammered in his ears, and all he was aware of was the joining of their bodies, the heat building between them, the intoxicating scent of her.
He realized he was biting down on her neck just in time to abort at the prickling of fangs beginning to grow. He twisted his head swiftly away. He came anyway, shuddering through a climax more intense than any he could remember before, with his cheek pressed to her neck and her scent filling his world. He shook with aftershocks, holding her with their bodies so closely twined together that they felt as if they had, for the moment, become one being.
As he began to relax and Holly let out a soft sigh, Jace pushed himself quickly up on his elbow. “Are you all right? Did I hurt you?”
“What?” She blinked up at him, all puzzled, sleepy fulfillment. “No, of course not. I’m fine. You’re not my first, you know.” She smiled sleepily. “But if you want to be a gentleman, I could use a glass of water and some tissues.”
“Mind if I borrow your bathrobe?”
