Page 53 of Wolfish
She set up her materials to reconstruct the first skeleton head, dedicated to learning who the women were. “Nope. I’m not working on reconstructing Jane Doe’s face tonight either. We have an important date with destiny.”
He pulled her into his arms and rocked her back and forth. “I love you, you know.”
“I love you just as much. I was so angry at the brothers for shooting you when we could have mated a couple of days ago. Because I’m not giving you up for anything.”
“Hell, I agree.” He grabbed her hand and headed to the bedroom, where they would become mated wolves. “I couldn’t imagine being with anyone else.”
“I know. Me either. And it was so nice coming home to a delightful meal, champagne, and roses.”
“I always want to be there for you like that.”
“I want the same for you.”
When they reached the bedroom, he was ready to rip off his clothes.
For a heartbeat, they stood in the hush, eyes sharpening, hearts drumming in tandem, the future rushing up to meet them: fall’s vivid colors beyond the window, the sweat-laced heat already rising between their bodies. He made as if to peel off his clothes at once, hands eager at the hem of his shirt, but she intercepted him midmotion, her own hands reaching for his collar, intent on slowing the tempo, savoring the moment.
She undid the top button—then the next, and the next—her knuckles grazing his collarbone, the warmth of her hands painting new directions over his skin. Instead of rushing headlong, she traced the muscles of his chest.
Her touch sent his pheromones spiraling, and hers drove him crazy.
She parted his shirt and pressed her lips to his skin, leaving slow, deliberate kisses that anchored him to the moment, to the reality of her. The urgency in him was pronounced, but her slow touch made him appreciate her even more.
He surrendered to her rhythm, framing her face between his hands and kissing her lips, the corners of her mouth, her jawline, before speaking against the softness of her cheek, “You are just the one for me.”
Her answer came low and sure. “And you are that for me.” The sentence was a contract in the certainty of her touch and words.
He corralled her against him, and now it was his turn to undress her, his hands working beneath her burgundy sweater, fingers trailing fire along her ribs as he lifted the wool up and over her head. The sweater fell to the carpet. He let his shirt follow, not minding where it landed, only that it was gone.
Now her skirt—heavy, pleated wool—was the last significant barrier, and he thumbed open the buttons at her waist, peeling it off so it puddled in a soft heap. She stepped out of it as if shedding a skin, meeting his gaze with a wolf’s confidence.
She unfastened his belt with a practiced deftness, and she undid the fly of his jeans, hands pressing against him through the fabric, teasing at the threshold. He kicked off his shoes with one foot, the pair tumbling askew under the bed. She followed suit, unzipping her boots, removing them and her socks, her bare toes flexing against the soft rug.
He pulled off his pants and dropped them on the growing pile of clothes. After removing her lavender bra, freeing her breasts, her dusky nipples already aroused, he slipped her matching pair of panties off. She did the honors of removing his boxer briefs, and his dick was already at full mast, revealing just how eager he was to make love to her.
He swept her up along the side of the bed, catching her in a half-dip, one arm curled behind her knees. She kept her eyes on him, never darting away, even as his hands mapped the length of her body, learning the territory anew. They clung together, skin to skin, the heat between them building until it seemed the room itself must combust.
He swept her hair aside to kiss her neck, while she stroked his back in long, reverent arcs. He pressed himself against her, and she arched up to meet him, their legs tangling, their arms entwined.
He began stroking her between the legs, breathing in their pheromones, loving that they were so in harmony with one another.
She writhed against his fingers, moaning in the grip of orgasm, and howled when she came.
He laughed. “Are you ready?” Because when he entered her, they would be mated wolves, and it couldn’t be undone.
“Yes, for sure. Do it.”
He was glad she didn’t want to put it off because he was so ready for this. He entered her and began to thrust into her tight body. She felt so good, and just where he belonged. She was scraping her long nails against his back in a gentle caress at the same time. He pumped into her until he felt the coming explosion. Bathing her with his hot seed, he lay on top of her in a state of bliss.
Then he rolled over and tugged her on top of him, naked skin to naked skin. “You feel so good. I love you, honey.”
“You are my wolf forever and ever. I love you so much.”
The next day, excited about the mating, they told everyone they were mated wolves, thrilling the pack members. They had dinner with his brother, Michael, and his mate, Carmela, that evening.
The brothers grilled chicken thighs and vegetables, while the ladies made cocktails and potato salad.
“We’re so glad Daniel was able to connect with you. When Michael and I met, Daniel and my brother were going to make sure we were a good fit for a mating. We mated before they could interfere.”
