“I’m going to bite your chest.” She sighed, then winced at the lack of explicit description.
But that was what she wanted.
She wanted to bite his chest.
His hand was suddenly clamped on her hip, long, strong fingers curving over the denim of her jeans as she felt his body tense, his breathing becoming deeper and harder.
“Are you sure you want that head start?” His lips lowered to nip her ear.
Then he licked the edge of her ear, exciting the sensitive nerve endings beneath the flesh.
A shudder raced through her, blistering hot, nearly catapulting her straight out of her senses and into an unprecedented orgasm.
Her thighs tightened as she fought to hold it back. Or give in to it? She wasn’t certain which.
“I don’t know,” she murmured. “Maybe you’re not good enough at this game to catch me if I take it?” Hell no, she didn’t want a head start, but this was fun. It was the most fun she had ever had, the kind of fun she had dreamed of having with a man.
And in a moment’s hindsight, she realized she wanted him to chase her. She wanted this game more than she could have ever imagined wanting anything like it.
He tensed again, a little growl rumbling between them, at once exciting her even as it sent a flash of trepidation racing up her spine.
She could see the hunger in his gaze, feel it radiating from his big body. The strength of it confused her, as did the answering force that surged through her own body.
“When I catch you, I will fuck you,” he promised her, his voice rumbling at her ear before he pulled back to stare into her eyes. “All night, all day. Possibly all week.” Pulling away from him was practically impossible, and forcing herself to walk away took all the willpower she could muster. Because she didn’t want to leave. She wanted to stay there with him, wanted to rub against him and feel the sensual heat and power that she sensed was so much a part of him. She forced herself to move though. Forced herself to draw her gaze away from him and turn back to the table she, Chelsea and Liza shared. They had moved though. They were waiting on her at the exit, which was even better. Leaving was the best option, it would give him a reason to try to find her. If she remained in the bar, it would be rather anti-climatic. And she certainly didn’t want that.
Chapter Two
So many pieces of a heart broken, so many nights spent watching the darkness, wondering where you were.
Some nightmares refused to go away, even amid the most sensual, most erotic event of her life, the deepest terror she had ever known insisted on intruding.
And she wouldn’t have known, wouldn’t have realized the monster that haunted her dreams was even there if Chelsea and Liza hadn’t rushed her so quickly from the bar.
Holden Mayhew was in the bar, and he had witnessed her flagrant teasing of the Coyote Breed. The one who had given her a head start. A chance to be certain this was what she wanted.
And she wanted him with every fiber of her being.
So much that her body was incredibly sensitive, her nerve endings still pulsing with the need for touch. For his kiss. For every sensual promise he had made to her in the dimly lit bar.
His fingers stroking against her flesh, his lips, the nip of his teeth. The feel of his hard body against hers.
And she longed, ached, burned for him to take her.
Perhaps she should have refused the head start, but the anticipation of being chased, of being a sensual prey, had been more than she could deny herself.
Isabelle stared at one of the fragrant candles flickering around the room, eliminating the hotel smell and bringing a sense of calm to her ragged nerves. It did nothing to ease the pulse and throb of an arousal that was becoming almost overwhelming. As a matter of fact, the soft, sensual scent that infused the wax might have made it worse.
But even the anticipation of the Breed and the pleasure that could overtake her couldn’t eliminate the fear rising inside her now.
Someone had called Holden and told him she was there. Someone who didn’t care that she wanted nothing to do with him. Hell, he didn’t care that she wanted nothing to do with him. He was there, and once again, he was stalking her.
The flicker of light from the candles her grandmother had made for her held her attention again. The gift from her grandmother just hours before her uncle had called her to the hotel had surprised Isabelle. The scents of them were even more surprising.
Lavender, sandalwood and a darker, elusive scent that reminded her of dark sexuality and the Breed she had walked away from earlier.
The candles themselves weren’t surprising. Her grandmother was always creating distinctive scents with individuals and their emotions or troubles in mind. That underlying scent of sexuality was surprising, though. She just wished she could put her finger on exactly what it was.
“What are you going to do, Isabelle?” It was rare her sister called her by her full name, as everyone else did. Chelsea usually used the shortened version of Isa, despite the fact that Isabelle didn’t care much for the nickname.
“How long was he there?” Isabelle whispered as she watched the door. She could sense the nervousness raging through the other two as Isabelle felt fear tugging at her.
“He came in just before you walked over to the Breed,” Chelsea said quietly.
“I should have told you the instant I saw his brother Harlen on his cell phone,” Chelsea sighed. “I should have done more than just suggest we leave.”
Well, that answered the question of who could have called Holden.
She distantly remembered Chelsea saying something about leaving, had recognized the concern in her sister’s voice at the time, but she had ignored it. Nothing had mattered but the Breed and connecting with him. Nothing and no one else had mattered. Her fascination with him was something so unusual for her that she had thought the concern her sister had felt had been because of her actions, not the man who had entered minutes later.
“And he saw me?” she whispered.
“He didn’t take his eyes off you until you left the bar with us,” Chelsea told her, anger beginning to tighten her voice. “The bastard. You should tell Dad, Isabelle. You can’t let him keep doing this.”
“This” being the steady harassment and stalking of her. He refused to accept the fact that Isabelle hated him.
Pushing her fingers through the long strands of her hair, Isabelle rose from the chair she had thrown herself in moments earlier and paced to the other side of the room.
She didn’t need this. She didn’t want to face it. She had hoped she could escape the nightmare Holden Mayhew had begun in her life, but it seemed he was determined to make certain she never escaped it.
Or him.
For a moment the surge of terror and fury she had felt that night raced through her again. The feel of his hands, painful in their cruel insistence, holding her down. The sound of his voice as he sneered down at her, determined to take what she was unwilling to give him. The ease with which he had torn her clothes from her was humiliating. The knowledge that he had nearly carried through with his intent to molest her was as terrifying as it was enraging.
She couldn’t forget the fact that he had almost raped her. He had almost taken from her the one thing she had wanted to save for the man she would one day give her heart to. The gift she knew she had been so ready to give to an unknown Breed tonight.
Her virginity.
He hadn’t completed the rape, but the terror was now such a part of her that she was shocked she had escaped the memory of it for those few minutes she had dared the undarable. A Coyote Breed.