Page 49 of Howl (The Black Mountain Pack 2)

Her heart sank. “Will you chase me again? Push me down. Make me—”

“No.” He snatched her waist, yanking her closer. Their chests met, her wide eyes finding his. The expression on his face wasn’t the dangerous, predatory grin he’d sported during their chase. He looked somber, as if his next act would hurt him far more than it could ever affect her. “I need you to relax,” he warned, securing her shoulders in an iron grip.

The next second, his mouth settled over hers. At the back of her mind, she recognized that this wasn’t a kiss. It was a method of attack. His lips parted, easily prying hers apart. In the same instant, he utilized her shock to shove her back.

She fell and couldn’t even cry out before a firm surface broke her fall. The mattress. Something heavy enough to support their combined weight as he settled over her without allowing her to regain her bearings.

“W-What are you doing?” Her heart hammered, trying to beat its way from her chest. She couldn’t breathe. The oddest thing, though, was her overall lack of fear. All doubt vanished. Every trace of concern ceased to matter. His weight wasn’t a restraint, but a welcome pressure she arched her hips to experience in full. As his heat seeped beneath her skin, a sigh ripped from her lips.

But, if anything, her acceptance seemed to irritate him. He lunged, utilizing his weight to pin her down and crush the remaining air from her lungs. His thighs, pressing into the mattress on either side of her, became a prison. All the while, he consumed her within another kiss—only one far deeper. Ravenous. One of his hands fisted through her hair, using the contact as an anchor.

But the physical touch was just one prong of his approach. She could feel him…inside her head. The sensation was akin to a battering ram slamming against her skull. The wielder’s intentions weren’t malicious, but that didn’t negate the pain of his actions.

It hurt.

“Ow!” she whimpered, resisting the embrace. “W-Wait—”

“Loren, trust me.” His lips met her forehead with a desperation she could feel, almost like a coherent thought.Let me in. Please. Just let me in.The plea echoed faintly at first, growing stronger and stronger. Clearer. Belatedly, she realized the pain was gone. All that remained was a fervent desire that consumed her from the inside out.

They needed to know. Needed to know. But he didn’t want it to hurt. Couldn’t let it hurt—

“Trust me,” his voice, grated against her earlobe, was the catalyst needed to unlock something within her.She wentlimp. Panting and breathless, she could only obey his next command.

“I need… You need to be relaxed for this to work.” His tone was gentle but with the slightest trace of commanding authority. Her body reacted instantly, and some of her alarm eased.

But not all of it.

The pain in her head quickly faded away in contrast to the growing realization as to how close he was. How heavy. His heat crept beneath the fabric of her borrowed clothes, but muffled. The material felt more like a nuisance than anything. She needed it off. Now.

His eyes seemed to darken with the same understanding. He reached for her sweater first, moving slowly as if to allow her plenty of time to recoil.

She didn’t. When his fingers finally slipped beneath the thin wool to brush her skin, her eyelids fluttered at the sensation.Right.There was no other word to describe it other than perfect. Natural.

Her body was his to touch. Explore.

But, still, he hesitated.

Her thoughts swam as she struggled to look up. He stared down at her, fully clothed, his jaw tight, those eyes a stormy gray. Some moments, he seemed almost predatory in how he looked at her, like a hungry beast savoring a wounded bit of prey.

But others, he looked…guilty. Like he hated himself for giving in to the attraction she knew they both felt.

“It’s okay.” Her voice wavered, but resonated more strongly than she would have thought. “I’m… It’s okay.”

His eyes flashed as if to challenge that. Then he lunged. What happened next occurred so quickly she could barely track the progression. He kissed her first—reallykissed her—so fiercely her lips stung in the aftermath. Then he pulled back. Snatched her sweater. Fabric tore. More kissing. Heat. Sensation. Skin on skin.

Wait.The little voice of reason spoke up from the back of her mind, only to be drowned out by the rush of warmth that replaced Naomi’s designer clothing.

Her pants were gone. Panties too. A rugged, harsher surface replaced the thin fabric, running up her inner thigh before contacting the space between them.

Her breath caught. It was as if all her life she’d gone without something vital, never knowing what it was. Until now. His touch. His warmth. His possession. They cleared her mind of everything but the need for more. All of him.

Her nails raked over his forearm as she gripped it tight, still processing the foreign sensations wafting through her.

He went rigid, giving her that time, she realized. Then just as she relaxed again, he rocked his hand.

A sound she’d never heard tore from her throat, only to be swallowed by his mouth. He did it intentionally, smothering her gasp as a thick finger eased inside of her. She recognized the shape instantly, coated in warm, calloused skin.

Her cheeks flamed as her knees buckled—but there wasn’t time to panic at the intrusion. As if from far away, she felt that probe against her mind again, but there was no pain. Just acceptance. He picked through her thoughts gently. Recalling that analogy he made, this room was his to explore as he wished. With single-minded focus, he fixated on only a handful of memories in particular. Her mother…

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