Dreaming of the Wolf (Heart of the Wolf #8)(16)

He looked up to see her taking her fill of him, too. Her lingering perusal on his erection made him all the hotter for her, and he took her hands as he sat on the leafy forest floor, pulling her down on top of him in a sitting position to protect her delicate skin. Straddling him, she leaned forward to kiss him, her ripe womanly folds splayed to him, her breasts hanging down like tempting fruit.

He cupped her breasts as she kissed his mouth, her pelvis rubbing against his arousal, which was agonizingly ready for her. Slipping his fingers between them, he stroked the sweet spot between her thighs. She arched her back, her eyes closing, her lips parted as she panted with pleasure, her curls already dewy with expectation. She rested her hands on the ground as she leaned back a little more, barely breathing as he continued to stroke her.

She moved against him with urgency and desperation, soft moans of satisfaction escaping her lips. Seeing her in the dark pine shadows, opening herself to him with her knees spread wide, he thought only of giving her pleasure. When she gasped his name in a quiet, grateful manner, he slipped his fingers into her wetness, felt the climax hit, the pulsing deep inside her, and nudged himself at her entrance, waiting only long enough to see she was still agreeable.

Agreeable, hell. She took charge, centered herself over his erection, and rocked and squirmed on top of him until he was deeply entrenched inside her. He couldn’t believe his fortune to have found a woman who could turn his furnace on high with just a lingering look in his direction, who could make him so completely entranced with her that he nearly forgot his wolf instincts for self-preservation at all costs.

His hands molded to her voluptuous breasts, her mouth on his, until he felt the world lift from his shoulders. Everything ceased to exist except Alicia: her body, her tongue teasing his, her fingernails flicking lightly over his nipples, and with his erection deep inside her, stroking him, tight and hot and wet, her body melding with him until they were as one.

Unable to hold off, he came into her with a burst of satisfaction. Climaxing had never felt this good. The overwhelming release sated him, making him experience a wolf’s runner’s high, a sense of being on top of the world, his body on fire with the feel of her snug internal muscles holding him tight. He didn’t want the encounter to end ever.

He lay down on his back as she continued to sit on top of him, pushing her thick hair away from her face in a sexy way, her heartbeat rapid, her breathing quickened, every inch of her skin flushed with exertion. He could see in her eyes the question forming there. What now? Where do we go from here?

The thing of it was that he wanted her. Permanently. As a werewolf, the thought was lunacy. If he’d been strictly human, he would have done anything in his power to keep her, to enjoy the way she made him feel for hours, days, weeks, months. But he wasn’t strictly human, and the situation was bound to get more complicated in a hurry.

She seemed to see the concern he had about them, and with as much grace as was possible as she sat astride him in all her nakedness, she climbed off him. Unable to move or to take his eyes off the wonder that she was, he watched as she slipped on her panties, hiding the dark patch of curly hair that protected her treasures, the enticing shadow still visible through the silky white fabric. White—he thought of innocence and sweetness and vulnerability. The way she’d made love to him, he thought of her wearing red—fiery and hot—rather than the innocence and sweetness of white.

She avoided looking at him now, making her the picture of vulnerability. She pulled on the lace bra, her aroused nipples straining against the cups as she reached behind her back to fasten the garment, the dusky areolas holding his gaze like two sensual beacons still visible against the white lace. She continued to avoid looking at him as if she was feeling self-conscious now that the adrenaline rush had subsided.

But she’d moved him like no one had ever done, and he couldn’t think of anything else but being with her. Hell, he was already thinking about returning with her to her hotel room and having her all over again. And he knew it wouldn’t be the last time he’d want her like that.

“I guess you’ll be going home now.” She still didn’t look at him, even when speaking.

She lifted her blouse off the ground and shook off the pine needles clinging to it, her voice without inflection, as if the world hadn’t rocked for her as much as it had for him, yet he knew she wasn’t oblivious to what they’d just experienced. He also knew she was pulling away to avoid getting hurt.

He cursed himself for falling for a human female who intrigued him like no other. Something deeper stirred his interest. Something he couldn’t pinpoint. He’d always known his mind, known the right thing to do as a lupus garou. Now, he was fighting any self-doubts he had that being with her was right—even though, deep down, he knew this was a big mistake.

He had never slept with a human woman after sex, often didn’t have sex more than once with the same woman, and hadn’t even had sex with one for the past six months. He never got involved with a human woman for more than the sexual act that mutually satisfied them both. Keeping relationships on that basis worked best for lupus garous.

But in Alicia’s case, he wanted to take a hike with her to one of the lakes, see the falls, share her bed, wake up with her wrapped up in his arms in the morning, and make love to her all over again. He wanted to spend real quality time with her and get to know her in more than just a sexual way. And he didn’t want to analyze why he was feeling that way.