One Night with the Wolf. Anna Hackett
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She was far from the party now, could no longer hear the music or laughter. It was just her, the quiet hush of the water and her nerves.
Christian had been so mad. She’d read it in the hard lines of his body. She gripped her hands together. For a breathtaking second, she’d been sure he was going to offer himself.
Then the shutters had come down.
For the best. Deep down she feared he’d dominate her and give her a breathless taste of desires she didn’t even know she wanted. Desires she could never have.
At least he’d offered to help her.
She started to pace. She was doing the right thing. The pleasure of this night would help her get through the Courting. It would help her survive another marriage she didn’t want.
Conjuring up a faceless man, she imagined big hands on her skin, stroking, caressing. She wanted to explore a muscled chest, a ridged abdomen, a thick, curving…Luna. She imagined the man’s groans and her cries echoing through the trees.
She imagined golden eyes boring into hers.
No. She pulled in the cool night air. She realized that none of her fantasies held a faceless man—they all had Christian’s face.
Suddenly the thought of a stranger touching her turned her stomach. She pressed a palm to the vicious churning and took a backward step. She couldn’t do this.
A twig snapped nearby. Jade froze.
She sensed a man closing in on her. He was downwind, so she couldn’t scent him.
Run? Stay?
He came up behind and she couldn’t turn, couldn’t move. Her hands went cold. A contrast to the heat she felt pumping off him.
When a hand brushed her shoulder, her muscles tensed so hard she thought she’d shatter.
“Shh,” he whispered, his hands brushing her hair to one side. Giving him access to her neck.
Clever fingers skimmed across her skin, over the rapid pounding of her pulse, and made her shiver. He traced the shell of her ear, and she felt the small touch all the way through her.
When he tugged her back against his big body, she gasped. He was solid muscle. Strength and heat.
His fingers slid lower and flicked open the top button of her shirt. “Are you sure you want this?”
His words were a muted whisper. She trembled, her throat dust dry. When he flicked open another button, his callused fingers brushed the top of her breasts, she closed her eyes. She couldn’t form the words to answer him.
Against her buttocks she felt the hardening length of him. Her hips moved on instinct. Pressing against him. Seeking.
He growled in her ear. “Tell me what you want.”
She stared blindly at the moon partly hidden by the treetops. Her lips parted. What did she want? She wasn’t sure anymore. Not with this man’s hands on her.
His fingers toyed with the next button but didn’t open it. “Say it.”
“Pleasure,” she choked out.
He undid another button. The night air was cool on her skin.
“What else?”
“Desire.” She rubbed against him. “Heat.”
“What do you really want?”
A sob caught in her throat. “You.”
With a muttered curse, his hand slashed down and ripped the remaining buttons from her shirt. He spun her, yanking her hard against his chest.
Rough hands tangled in her hair, angling her face up to his.
Her gaze clashed with liquid golden eyes.
Christian called himself all kinds of names and fool wasn’t the worst of them. He would damn himself tonight, but at least for one night, Jade would be his.
“Christian—”
“Don’t talk. You want pleasure, I’ll give it to you.”
She shuddered. Indecision warred on her face. They both knew they shouldn’t do this.
Then her hands ran across his shoulders. “Show me.”
He crushed his lips to hers, thrusting his tongue into the warm welcome of her mouth. He plundered, he tasted and her head dropped back from the onslaught.
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