Kat stirred. The night was still, and the ache in her arm was little more than a twinge — one that shouldn't have been strong enough to wake her. She didn't move, just opened her eyes. She was in the cabin. In bed. Alone, although that in itself didn't surprise her.
What did surprise her was the condoms scattered on the bedside table. Ethan had obviously had intentions of doing something during the night.
She could hear no sound, and yet awareness stirred. But not an awareness of evil. It was an awareness of longing.
Need.
She reached for one of the foil packets then looked around. Ethan stood near the window, his arms crossed as he leaned against the frame and stared out. He wore black silk boxers but little else, and his hair looked rumpled, as if he'd spent the last few hours tossing and turning rather than sleeping. But if the pristine sheets on the other side of the bed were any indication, he certainly hadn't tossed and turned with her.
She took a moment to simply enjoy the sight of all that firm, hard flesh, then threw off the comforter and padded across the room to him. He didn't move, didn't say anything, though his shoulders tensed.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing. Everything."
She touched his shoulder, and he flinched. She ignored it and ran her fingers lightly down his spine. "Tell me."
He took a shuddering breath. "My niece is out there.
Maybe alive. Maybe dead. And all I can think about is how badly I need to sate my lust."
"You can't do anything more about your niece than what you're doing."
She slipped her hand around his waist and took a step closer, pressing her breasts against his tense back. His skin quivered, as if touched by fire. And that was what raged through his system right now. A cold, moon-spun fire that needed be quenched before things got out of control. She knew enough about werewolves to know she didn't want to face the consequences of that.
"That doesn't stop the feeling that I should be doing something," he replied. "That I should be looking, or going through the files again, or going over her room — " "If you didn't find any clues the first few times, what makes you think you'd find them now?" She slipped her hand down the flat of his stomach and under the waist of his boxers.
He sucked in air. "Hope. Desperation."
She ran her fingers down the length of him and pressed feather light kisses across his back. Still he didn't move, though his whole body shook with the effort of control.
"Don't," he said softly, "do this."
She didn't stop but continued to caress him. He needed the pressure released and she was more than willing.
While she had no doubt this first time would be hard and fast — more so than at the beach — they still had hours left to daylight. There would be time enough for her.
"Kat, stop," he all but groaned.
"Why?" She ran her tongue across his neck and shoulders, tasting him as he'd tasted her earlier.
"Because you're injured. Because my need is so great I might just hurt you."
"You're need is a bigger danger than my wound."
She touched his face, forcing him to look at her. His eyes were almost otherworldly. The moon fever truly had him in its grip, and once released, there would be no going back until the fever was sated. It was a wonder he'd had enough control to resist her this long.
She kissed him gently, then said against his lips, "Take me, werewolf. Take me now."
He groaned and grabbed her, pulling her so close his heat nearly melted her skin. His mouth claimed hers with such ferocity her head swam. He forced her back, not to the bed but to the rug in front of the fireplace, and lay down beside her. He kissed her lips, her throat, her shoulders as his hands set her alight with an urgency as great as his own. She was more than ready when he thrust inside her, and she groaned at the sheer pleasure of it. His powerful stokes drove deep, promising satisfaction, but they were too fast, too soon. He came with a roar that flushed heat through her body and left her trembling with unfulfilled desire.
When his shuddering stopped he kissed her again, gentler this time but no less urgently. The fever still raged in his eyes, and she knew that at this moment she was a just a body on which he sated his needs. He didn't actually see her . Yet.
But this wasn't about her. For the moment, it was about him.
He continued to kiss her, and after a while she felt him grow hard again. He began to move, stroking slow and deep, until it felt as if there wasn't an inch he hadn't delved. Pleasure rippled across her skin, became a pulsing need that grew more urgent as his stroking quickened. He kissed her neck, burned a trail with his tongue down to her breasts, then took one nipple in his mouth and sucked hard. She groaned, arching against him, wanting it faster, harder. He complied. When he came a second time she went with him, her whole body shaking with the force of it.
But the moon fever wasn't finished yet.
He pulled her to her feet, picked her up and carried her to the bed, where he continued to make love to her until the flush of dawn touched the skies and the pile of condoms was severely depleted. But the fever finally left his eyes, and the last time they made love it was her he saw. Her he made love to.
Her he left as he went to sleep out on the sofa.
Chapter Seven
Kat pulled on her sweater as she walked through the living room. Ethan still slept on the sofa, the blanket tangled around his hips, revealing the lean planes of the body she now knew so well. She let her gaze linger on him for a moment, her pulse stirring as she remembered the feel of his skin against hers, the heat of his touch — the way he'd claimed her, at first with such ferocity, then later with such tenderness and passion. She swallowed to ease the sudden dryness in her throat and walked on.
It was barely eight and, after his efforts last night, she really didn't expect him to surface for another couple of hours. Which was a good thing, because she wasn't entirely sure what she was going to say to the man who could create such magic with his touch and yet refused to allow the slightest bit of intimacy afterwards.
Gwen was in the process of carrying a large tray of food over to the table when Kat entered the second cabin. She took the tray from her grandmother's hands and placed it on the table, then walked over to the small coffeemaker and poured them both a cup of coffee.
"You feeding an army?" She sat down and surveyed the platters of bacon, eggs, Danishes and fruit.
Gwen's eyes twinkled. "Thought you two might need some sustenance after last night."
Kat grinned despite the slight flush of heat to her cheeks.
Last night the walls could have been thinner than air, and she wouldn't have cared. "The man does have stamina, I'll give him that."
"He's a werewolf and the moon is rising. That's a given."
Gwen plucked a Danish from the plate and began eating it. "As long as you were careful, that's all that matters."
Kat gave her a long look. "We're not sex-mad teenagers.
Both of us are able to contain our hormones long enough to take care of that ."
"Maybe, but listen to an old woman who knows what she's talking about and make sure you keep your wits about you, because as the moon gets closer, he won't."
She stared at her grandmother for several seconds. She'd lived with this woman all her life, and still there seemed something new to discover almost every week.
"You had a werewolf lover?"
"Oh, yes." Gwen's reply was more a sigh. "And a most enjoyable six months it was, too. They're very athletic lovers."
She could vouch for the stamina, but the athletic part was still to be discovered. But then, Gran had always been more adventurous than she was, and even now thought nothing of making love some place horribly awkward or public. "Are they all… wary… of intimacy, or is it just mine?"