Dreaming of the Wolf (Heart of the Wolf #8)(14)

“Not a vendetta,” she said icily. “I don’t plan to gun them down like they did my mother. Just return them to jail where they belong. Permanently.”

She tried to pull her hand free from his, but he wouldn’t let go. With his free hand, he swept the back of his hand down her cheek with a tender caress. “All right, not a vendetta then.” But he still couldn’t see how she planned to safely take these men into custody.

He wasn’t sure just what about her made his pulse race to such an extent, the way the heat of her hand penetrated his, the way he couldn’t put her out of his mind, stirring a need to be with her and to protect her that he was having a hard time quelling. The expression on her face, though rebellious, appealed to him. Hell, everything about her did.

Her short-waisted suit jacket hung open as if she’d been ready to remove it to dress in a more casual manner. But he knew that had to do with her having easy access to her gun, although the holstered weapon was still hidden. His gaze drifted down to where the ice-white silken blouse revealed the faint outline of her bra and a hint of lace, baring the sexier side of her outfit. Round pearl-button fasteners on her blouse captured his attention, and briefly, he wanted to touch them, to poke one after another through the slivers of their buttonholes, to see the rest of her as nature had intended.

She cleared her throat, and he returned his gaze to her face. A small smile tugged at her lips, and her brows lifted in a way that said she knew exactly where his thoughts had roamed.

Although he wanted this issue between them resolved—wanted her to promise him she wasn’t going any further with this futile effort to take down these men, when her hand rested on his shirt-covered chest, the vest now open and most of his shirt still unbuttoned because of hastily dressing, he thought she was going to push him away. Or at least try.

But her hand swept up his chest as if tentatively feeling the muscles beneath the shirt, memorizing the sensation of him, and judging his reaction, while her eyes focused on his chest as she continued to explore. Her touch left a trail of sizzling heat through the cotton shirt and a craving to touch her in the same way, except that he wanted to touch her skin to skin.

He lifted her chin and leaned down and kissed her. Potent need filled him as his mouth conquered hers, possessing and wanting, the worry that she could have come to harm still making his blood pulse hot and hard. His hands slid underneath the back of her jacket, gliding over the silky blouse while her head still tilted up to encourage his onslaught. Instantly responsive, she reacted as though she needed his comfort, his possessiveness, him, as she molded to his body, pressing harder against him, her hands exploring his back through the dress shirt with eagerness.

If they’d been back home in his own woods, away from civilization, free to do what they pleased, he would have liked to take her, conquer her, make love to her. It wasn’t just sex that he was interested in having with Alicia either, but something deeper. Although he knew he couldn’t go there with her, not when she was human, and he had no intention of turning her.

With his thoughts shifting to his more primal needs, he barely registered that they were still standing on the path where hikers could come upon them at any moment. He wasn’t familiar with these woods or how frequently visitors to the area might slip off the path and do some exploring on their own. Still, he wanted more, wanted her. And his baser, more primitive instinct told him she was just as willing as he was. To go with the moment, to find pleasure where they could.

But was Alicia truly as willing?

Chapter 4

Jake pulled Alicia off the hiking trail and deeper into the woods, kissing her mouth and stroking her back while walking backward as she continued to press herself against him, pursuing him and getting caught up in the moment.

When she wrenched his shirt free from his jeans, he knew she was thinking along the same intimate lines he was. He broke free of the kiss, then slid his hand around hers and hauled her even deeper into the woods, far away from the beaten path. He was glad he’d moved her from the trail when the distant conversation of more hikers walking along it drifted to them.

Finally he and Alicia reached a secluded enough spot in the forest, surrounded by tall, slender quaking aspens, their leaves twisting and bending in a fluttering dance to the tune of a warm, dry breeze and issuing a softly whispering rustle. He took a deep breath of the fragrance of the towering ponderosa pine trees, with their subtle vanilla-scented bark, although unless a human stood close to the tree bark, he or she probably couldn’t smell it like a wolf could.

The trees creaked as a sturdy wind shook them. Pine needles rained down in a wistful shower to the forest floor, which was already coated with fallen leaves and pine needles of seasons past. The woods were dark and shady as birds flitted around on the nearby tree branches. Other than the sounds of the breeze in the trees and the twittering of the birds, the place was a perfect depiction of tranquility and beauty. Especially with Alicia in the picture.

He almost wished he had his camera to capture the timeless beauty. But this was all too private and personal, and he wanted to capture the image of her like this for his sake only.

He stopped and looked down at her. She gazed up at him with smoldering eyes, hot and sexy and dark with desire. He reached up, unfastened the copper clip confining her hair on top of her head, and watched with fascination as the dark chocolate curls cascaded over her shoulders. Having imagined tons of pins confining her hair, he was glad that releasing it was this easy.