Winter of the Wolf (30 page)

He’d give her what she needed, but…it couldn’t be making love, as she’d said.

He mustn’t try to win her to be his and Zeb’s mate, no matter how much he wanted to do just that.
Don’t ruin her
life, furface
. He looked into her big blue eyes. “Yes. If that’s what you want.”

As he knelt in front of her, her scent carried fear, not arousal. At this point, she’d scare herself into backing out before he even moved. “Give me your hand.” She set her hand in his. The pretty fingers trembled in his big grip.

“Breanne, have I ever hurt you?”

“No.”

“No.”

“Do you trust me?”

“I’m not sure.” Her brows drew together. “Um. Mostly?” He barked a laugh. “Wel, that’s honest.” He kissed one finger. “Did that hurt?”

“N-no.”

He kissed another, letting his lips caress her skin, alternating kisses with smal licks. She tasted of sugar and apples. He moved closer and kissed her wrist, inhaling the beginnings of arousal. There was no scent like it in the world, and on Breanne’s skin, it was a heady fragrance. “Did that hurt?”

She choked on a laugh. “Just stop, okay? I see where you’re headed with this.”

He was close enough to cup her face in his palm and meet her gaze in the dancing firelight. “I know you’re frightened.” She tried to pul back. He folowed, keeping his hand on her face, his eyes on hers.

His hand was hot against her face, his eyes steely blue as he trapped her with his gaze and his touch. “Shay, I—”

“Breanne, let’s try something.” His slow smile lightened his face. “I have a friend who is into bondage, whips, that sort of stuff. He’s weird, but he likes it, and so do his females.”

“You’re going to whip me?” Her free hand fisted.
I
can’t
—

can’t
—

His hearty laugh echoed against the log wals. “By Herne’s antlers, no. But his mates say a special word if anything is too much—the pain, the ropes, whatever. If he hears it, he stops right away. We’l use
Elvis
.” Shay leaned closer, his body almost touching hers. “Say it. What’s the word to make everything stop?”

Inside her stomach, a quiver started. “Elvis,” she whispered. Her dog that had risked his life to save her.

“Elvis.”

“Good lass. If you say ‘no’ or ‘stop,’ I’l slow down. Elvis means ful halt.” His eyes were level.

He would stop if she needed him to. A little of the fear drained away.

“Now you’ve made me anxious, so you should kiss me,” he said. “Can you dare that much?”

A kiss. She stared at him.

The sun lines at the corners of his eyes creased as he smiled. He didn’t have dimples—his jaw was too strong. He had a little dent in his chin. She’d like to touch it.

Surely, she could kiss him. She had before, just not as a prelude to… She rose up on her knees and was stil too short. He didn’t move. Her hand shook as she put it behind his neck. His thick hair curled around her fingers as she traced out the lines of muscle. She puled his head down and lifted her face.

lifted her face.

His lips were gentle. Smooth. She brushed her mouth across his lips and started to pul back.

He murmured, “More.”

Her heart was beating fast, but she could breathe. His mouth opened under hers, his tongue tracing her lips. She shivered with the sensation. He nibbled on her chin, gently sucked on her lower lip, and swept his tongue inside.

Heat swirled low in her stomach, as he explored and coaxed her tongue into the play. A man’s lips felt different from hers. Firmer. When he rubbed his cheek over hers, his day’s growth of beard scratched lightly over her skin.

He lifted his head, his eyes warm. Intent.

Somehow, she’d leaned into him, and her breasts were flattened against his hard chest. She tried to draw back, but he put his hand behind her, stopping her.

“Is something too much, lass? Use your word if you need to.”

She stiled.

As he waited, his hand stroked slowly up and down her back. It was comforting, and yet the hardness of his palm through the flannel fabric was…arousing. “Breanne?”

“I’m okay.”

“Good lass.” The approval in his deep voice warmed her.

“May I have a hug now? Can you dare that much?” Even as she was trying to decide, he puled her arms up around his she was trying to decide, he puled her arms up around his neck again and inched her closer until her knees rubbed his, and she pressed against him. “You feel good,
mo leannan
.” His arms tightened. “Kiss me again.”

She managed a shaky breath before tipping her head up.

This time he took charge of the kiss, possessing her mouth so completely that her head whirled. His hands moved, down her back to cup her buttocks. To squeeze them through the flannel fabric. Arousal seeped into her blood.

He lifted his head to murmur against her lips, “We’re overdressed.” Button by button, he undid her pajama top, his gaze on what was being revealed.

As air brushed over her bare breasts, she grabbed his hands, then hesitated.
This is what I want
. “I can take off my clothes.”

His heavy-lidded gaze held heat along with a tenderness that turned her body to mush. “Why don’t you let me do it instead?” His gaze didn’t leave hers as he curved an arm behind her back. His other hand slid under the gaping shirt and over her neck, her colarbone. “You’re so pretty, little wolf, and your skin is so smooth.” He inhaled. “You smel like vanila and sugar. I wonder—do you smel like that al over?”

When his palms grazed over her breasts, panic stabbed her. Her breathing hitched, and she tried to pul away, stopped by the merciless arm behind her.

He paused, waited, and stroked her again. This time she He paused, waited, and stroked her again. This time she felt the warmth of his hand. His palm rasped over her skin, leaving tingling in its wake. Low in her bely, something tightened. Wanted more. Just like she’d felt at the Gathering.

He pushed her shirt off her shoulders. Naked from the waist up, she stared at him.

“By the God, you’re beautiful,” he said. At the speed of thick syrup, his hands slid over her arms and back to her breasts. Never getting close to her nipples, he caressed the tender undersides in a long, sweet stream of sensation. “Your breasts were made for a male like me with big hands. Touch me back, Breanne. I want your hands on me.” She stared up at him, mesmerized by the sensations rippling through her.

He rubbed his nose on hers and made her smile. “Wil you take my shirt off?”

His clothes. Her hands trembled as if she’d chugged a potful of coffee, but she managed to unbutton his heavy shirt and push it off his broad shoulders. She froze.
No, Bree,
you’ve seen him naked lots of times
.

But this was different. He was touching her. She was touching him back.

Feeling as if she wavered on a precipice in a high wind, she ran her hands over his shoulders and down. He hummed with pleasure as she rubbed his pectorals, feeling the flat solid planes of muscles. The crispy hair across his chest curled like planes of muscles. The crispy hair across his chest curled like froth around her fingers as she explored his nipples—almost flat until they contracted to tiny points.

His shoulder muscles bunched as she stroked over them and down his arms. His rounded biceps were like granite.

“You’re so hard. Such a guy.”

“And you’re a soft, soft female.” His voice held a distracting growl. When he took her lips again, he puled her closer, flattening his hands on her back.

When her nipples rubbed the wonderfuly abrasive hair on his chest, her head swam with the sensation.

He moved closer, and his erection pressed against her stomach, huge even through his jeans. The jolt of feat made her grit her teeth. A whimper stil escaped.

Although he puled his hips back a fragment of an inch, he kept stroking her back. His fingers made smal dips under the waist of her pajama bottoms. “We’l go slow, Breanne. You have a word to make things stop, remember?” He wasn’t going to quit, she realized, with mingled anxiety and excitement. She gripped his biceps as his hands moved over her relentlessly. He kissed the curve of her neck, then her shoulders, and his lips were warm. The air thickened, and her body felt pliant, moving to his touch. She pressed closer.

With a low laugh, he puled them over sideways onto the soft blankets, then with gentle, firm hands, roled her onto her back. She stared up at him, her body tensing as she waited back. She stared up at him, her body tensing as she waited for him to fal on her.

Instead, he lay on his side next to her, raised slightly on his elbow. He studied her, his palm splayed open on her stomach. “You stil with me here, little wolf?” Her heart pounded heavily in her chest, and fear wavered like smoke around her, but her skin craved more of his touch.

Her nipples were tight and aching. “Yes, big wolf.”

“There’s a brave female,” he murmured. He set his big hand on her shoulder—no worry there—then surprised her by stroking slowly down her front, skimming tortuous paths around the outside of her breast, doing the same on the other side with teasing slow movements.

Only now, every leisurely brush of his fingers sent a sizzle inward from her skin to where hunger pooled inside her.

Needing to give him the same sensation back, she ran her hand down his chest and across the hard ridges of his abdomen.

A dangerous heat woke in his eyes. Leaning over her, he took her mouth again. His palm kneaded her right breast.

She gasped. His fingers fondled her, circling first one nipple, then the other. She couldn’t think as his tongue filed her mouth. He puled back to bite her lips insistently, then kissed her even more deeply.

Her nipples ached, needing…and then his fingers closed on one and puled lightly.

on one and puled lightly.

Pleasure blazed straight to her clit. Her fingers dug into his chest. “Mmmmh!”

His laugh was smoky and smooth. He opened her fingers, flattening her hand on his chest again, before returning to torment her breasts. He roled one nipple between his fingers, and she arched against the exquisite feeling. “Ah, you are sensitive here, aren’t you,” he murmured. “Then you might like this.” Sliding down, he took a nipple between his lips, and the heat of his mouth on her skin bloomed inside her lower bely as wel.

His mouth was soft and wet as he swirled his tongue around the aching peak. When he sucked, a stab of lust drove straight to her core. “Oh God.”

He stopped long enough to kiss her before he edged down farther. Drawing her pajama waistband down an inch, he licked across the exposed skin. Another inch. His tongue circled her bely button and her skin shivered. Her hips rose slightly. Instinctively.
Do more. No, don’t
. “Shay, I…”.

Far too easily, he slid her pajama bottoms right off, leaving her bare. Big man, kneeling over her. Horror widened her eyes, and terror turned the heat to ice. “No. No, don’t.” Panting, she shoved at his hands.

“Breanne. Am I hurting you?”

In control. Firm. Her wolf responded to his voice. Her mentor. Shay. But she couldn’t get enough air.

mentor. Shay. But she couldn’t get enough air.

“Am I hurting you? Tel me,” he ordered.

He wasn’t. He wasn’t even touching her. “No,” she whispered. A hard-won breath brought her his scent, not foul, but clean and wild.
My Shay
.

Beside her, the fire in the woodstove snapped, otherwise the world was silent. Snow would be faling outside.

His blue-gray eyes studied her, watching her expressions, her breathing. He recognized her fear; would he realize how much she needed to continue?

He stroked a calused hand down her stomach. “Does that hurt?”

“No.”
But I’m naked. Scared
.

He did it again, even slower, and this time her skin awoke to the glide of his hand. He ran one finger along the crease between her leg and her hip, and she shuddered against the heavy feeling growing inside her. His hand tingled over her inner thigh, and as he drew closer to her pussy, her insides tightened.

“Ah, there we go,” he murmured. “You’re with me again.” He nudged her legs apart, lowering himself between them until his breath brushed against her curls.

Oh heavens. The surge of need was as hot as at the Gathering and kept increasing as he kissed the delicate skin inside her thigh. He teased closer, just outside her labia. His hot tongue against her skin sent tension seething through her lower half.

lower half.

When his breath ruffled her curls, her clit gave a demanding throb as if alive.
Touch me
.Her fingers curled in his hair.

He raised his head to look at her. The gaze trapping her own held heat. Pleasure. Understanding. As she stared helplessly at him, the corners of his eyes crinkled. “Ready for more, are you, mo leannan?”

No. Yes. Please
.

He slid his powerful hands under her bottom, lifted her slightly, and his mouth came down over her clit.

Hot. Wet. Lightning sizzled through her veins as her insides clenched. “Aaah.”

His laugh vibrated against the engorged nub and added more sensation before he murmured, “Nothing in the world tastes as fine as this.” His tongue teased around her entrance, over her labia, and circled back around her clit until every beat of her heart made it pulse.

He wedged his broad shoulders down, opening her farther, holding her legs apart.

Panic shivered through her, then he puled one hand from under her bottom to run his finger between her folds, even as his tongue circled her clit. The trace of fear swirled away under the increasing heat.

Her insides tightened as he licked over the very top of her clit and down the other side. Fingers touched her labia, slick, clit and down the other side. Fingers touched her labia, slick, teasingly circling her entrance, dipping in slightly. And then he pushed one thick finger inside her. Slowly. Firmly.

She stiffened at the agonizing rush of memories. “No, no, please.”

He lifted his head, his finger stil in her. “Look at me, Breanne.”