Page 40 of Enspelled

He growls in my mouth and his kiss gets even hungrier. Arousal spikes, hot and sharp in my belly, as I swallow down the sound.

His hands stroke down my face, over my breasts, making me moan. He grips my hips and lifts me with so little effort, I gasp. He breaks the kiss, and his lips hover over mine. “Wrap your legs around me.” His voice is all growl, so feral that my desire ramps up even higher.

I drag air into my parched lungs, trying to summon logic when it seems to have gone out of the window. “Keane…”

He pushes me harder against the side of the truck, his lips trailing over my throat. “Do it.”

A voice in my head whispers how good it would feel—the part of me that doesn’t care about rules or logic. It’s suddenly impossible to ignore, so I wrap my legs around his hips. The moment I feel the hard length of him flush against my core, I whimper.

He growls, his hands tightening on my hips as he grinds himself against me in a slow, circular motion. “Fuck, Briar…”

Closing my eyes, I grab his shoulders and throw my head back with a desperate moan.

This is so incredible.

When he moves me, I have no idea where he’s going or why until my back touches the passenger seat.

My eyes fly open, and I stare at the roof of his truck. Are we seriously about to have sex in broad daylight in a parking lot?

I don’t believe we will until Keane’s fingers fumble with the waistband of my sweatpants. That’s when the tiny voice in my head that likes rules, order, and doing the right thing wakes up.

“Uh, Keane,” I gasp, struggling to push aside my need for him to do something about the growing ache between my thighs.

He nips my throat. “I need to be inside you.”

The pulsing ache in my core becomes a roar that drowns out my voice of reason. “What?”

“Right now.” He follows up his nip with a slow lick that makes my gut clench. “You want it too. I can smell it.”

We’re going to have sex in a parking lot. And am I crazy for not stopping him?

Keane suddenly rips himself away and spins around, a snarl in his throat.

I don’t move.

What the—?

Blood sprays across the parking lot, and a heavy thump has me scrambling out of the truck. I stare wide-eyed at the man I’ve never seen before, lying on the ground a few feet away, as Keane’s hands ripple from claws to hands again.

With the gaping hole in the left side of his chest right where his heart would be, there’s no question in my mind that he’s dead.

I shift my focus from the body of the red-haired man in ripped blue jeans and a flannel shirt up to Keane, who’s gazing down at him, his brow creased in a frown.

“Uh…?” is about all I can summon when my body is still coming down from whatever nearly happened between me and Keane.

Keane lifts his head, his eyes inscrutable. “He tried to kill me.” He cocks his head, and his gaze sharpens with feral intensity. “Or maybe you, but I was in the way.”

I stagger back until my ass hits the passenger seat and I’m no longer in danger of joining the dead man currently bleeding out on the ground.

“He’s a shifter,” Keane informs me.

Why he thinks I need to know that is beyond me. But since the coppery tang of blood in the air is making me feel like I’m about a second away from throwing up, I focus on the shifter’s arm closest to me. Just in time to watch his hand ripple from wolf claws to a hand.

I guess that’s how he planned to do it. Claws to the back of the head or neck.

Briefly closing my eyes, I swallow the sickness trying to crawl up my throat. “Why?”

“I don’t know.”

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