Broken. Rebecca Zanetti
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with tension. “You wanting to provide comfort with your body.”
Was that judgment in his tone? “No. I want an orgasm,” she snapped. Now she was both turned on and pissed off. “Unless you’re incapable of providing one.”
His eyelids lifted, his gaze glittering.
Oh. Oops. Well. She should say something, but all sound died in her throat. Her lungs froze, much smarter than her brain. Challenging Wolfe was a mistake she’d never made. Until now.
“You want to take that back?” he rumbled, one eyebrow lifting.
The memory of how quickly he’d picked her up and headed for that bar the other night sent heated air into her lungs. “No.” Her voice wavered, but her gaze remained on his. “If you’re not up to it, just let me know.”
Yep. She had completely lost her mind.
“You think I’m that easy to manipulate?” His voice remained steady, but the tension rolling from him choked the space between them.
“I think you’re as tired as I am of fighting this, whatever it is, that’s between us.” Her hands were still on his legs and she dug in with her nails. “Come on, Wolfe. You know you want it.” She let her voice lower to a croon. While she’d never been a temptress, she was enjoying this. If one of them didn’t make a move, they’d both go to bed alone, sleepless, and unsatisfied. “We should enjoy life while we have it.” Unfortunately, a true statement.
“Nothing is going to happen to you.” He growled the words, his hands lifting to her hips, heated and firm. His fingers flexed, hinting at restrained strength. Ruthlessly controlled power. “I’ve been as honest as I can be. I can’t promise you a damn thing, but I’m done pushing you away. You sure about this?”
Anticipation licked through her as if she were at the start of a race, right before the bell rang and the gate swung open to free the horses. “I’m sure.”
He stood and lifted her at the same time, tossing her over his shoulder. She landed with a muffled oof, laughing and trying to shove her hair out of her face. This side of Wolfe was new, and her body felt electrified, the shoulder beneath her stomach solid rock.
She might have taken on more than she could handle.
He strode into the kitchen, reached for the whipped-cream can still on the table, tossed it in the air, caught it, and headed toward his bedroom, his steps even and sure, his strides long and purposeful.
“Whipped cream?” she gasped, the blood rushing to her face as she turned her head to the side to breathe, her cheek resting against his broad back.
“We’re gonna make a sweet memory,” he murmured, reaching the bedroom and kicking the door closed with the back of one foot. It slammed shut, the sound amplified by her too-aware body and mind. He flipped her over, then stood, towering over her with heat and strength, his gaze hungry and a mite intimidating. “Take off your shirt.”
There was only one possible answer. “No.”
His slow smile awoke every girly part she had. “We’re doin’ this my way, green eyes.”
She bit her lip, contemplating his rock-solid body. “Who says?”
“Well?” He shook the whipped cream can. “Is this going to end up with me inside you, probably covered in sugar, making you scream my name?”
“Hopefully,” she croaked, her knees wobbling. Had she ever been this aroused?
“Then it’s my way.” His smile widened, giving him a boyish look she’d never seen on him before. Her heart just flipped right over and submitted. He finished shaking the can. “Now. This is going on you. That’s a pretty shirt, and I’d hate to get it messy. You have two seconds to take it off.”
Humor bubbled through her arousal, torturing her. “Fine.” But she wasn’t going to make it easy on him. Keeping his gaze, she slowly, very slowly, released each button, her breath catching as his smile disappeared and he looked even hungrier. “You look like a wolf about to eat,” she whispered, dropping the shirt and revealing her white lacy bra.
“I am a wolf about to eat.” He ran a knuckle along the tops of her breasts, his breath catching, his gaze heating even more. A smooth flick of his fingers released the front clasp, and the bra, too, dropped out of existence. Then he sprayed her, over her breasts, causing flecks of whipped cream to pepper her face.
She laughed, protesting. “Wolfe—”
His head dropped, and his mouth found her breast. Heat surrounded her, and he sucked. She gasped, her hands instinctively clutching his shoulders so she didn’t fall. It figured Wolfe would go all in with no hesitation. He licked the other breast with a happy hum and then lifted up, his mouth taking hers.
Wolfe didn’t kiss—he consumed. A sharp nip to her lip made her gasp, and he took advantage, his tongue sweeping in, tasting like whipped cream and spice. The demanding thrust of his tongue was accompanied by both hands on her breasts, the whipped cream letting him slide tantalizingly over her skin with a hint of bite.
She moaned and yanked on his shirt so he’d duck his head and let her toss it free. A sigh escaped her, into his mouth, when she finally settled her hands on that solid torso. Frantically, she caressed each bullet hole, knife wound, and ripped muscle.
He overwhelmed her, and she grasped his jeans, unzipping them.
Releasing her mouth, he ran his slippery palms down her arms and then gracefully dropped to his knees.
She protested, her hands now over his shoulders.
“Dana.” One word from him had her growing still. His hands were sure and gentle as he tugged down her yoga pants and panties, cool air brushing her skin.
He froze.
She blinked. Oh, crap. She’d forgotten. Caught up in his seduction, she’d completely forgotten the marks still on her upper thighs from the crazy senator and his sharp knife.
Wolfe jerked as if he’d been punched in the gut. Gingerly, he reached out and rubbed a gentle finger along one of the many still healing cuts. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
She tried to concentrate. “I didn’t want you to kill him.” It was the truth. “You saved me before he could do any more damage.”
“I would’ve killed him.” Wolfe glanced up, looking dangerous and big, even on his knees.
Yeah, she knew.
“I’m sorry.” He leaned forward and kissed each mark with a gentleness that nearly undid her. “These will heal. And I’ll make you forget.” The whipped cream suddenly sprayed across her lower part, and his mouth found her right where she ached for him.
“Jesus, Wolfe.” Fire lanced through her, and her thighs trembled. She grasped his shoulders, trying for balance.
Laughing against her core, he grasped her hips and tossed her on the bed, his mouth working her the entire time, his tongue lashing her clit as if he couldn’t get enough. It was too much. She gasped, trying for control, while sparks uncoiled inside her faster than she could track.
An orgasm took her, spiraling from nowhere, shaking through her. She closed her eyes and rode the waves, shocked at the height of them. When she was finished, he stood up. There was whipped cream in his hair from her hands.
“That was so fast,” she gasped.
His eyebrows rose. “Want another one?” He moved to bend down.
“No.” She held up a hand. “I want you. All of you.”
His eyes darkened, and he shoved his jeans off, freeing himself.
She grinned, her body on fire for him. “Glad to see you’re in proportion.” Truth be told, the guy was huge.
“Smart-ass.” He leaned over and drew a condom out of the bedside