“I’m not afraid of you,” she whispered, the smell of her growing desire caressing his nose. “The others frighten me but you…I know you won’t hurt me.” She moaned when he grasped her by the ass and lifted her feet from the ground, bringing them hip to hip and chest to chest.
Open for me, sweetheart. Open for me.
When she did, he dipped his tongue inside her mouth. Taking it slow might have been the way he’d planned to go but fast suited him just as well. Mary was uncertain at first, meeting the teasing swirls of his tongue with cautious ones of her own. He growled and kneaded the globes in his hands, encouraging her to let herself go. His nose told him she was excited, her scent calling to him in ways that had his muscles quivering in anticipation. It was time to put his dreams to rest.
Who needed fantasies when the real deal was in his arms?
He thought the battle was over when she wrapped her legs around his waist and her panty-clad cleft nudged his denim-encased cock. A corresponding jerk and tightness in his sac was immediately followed by the wet sensation of semen coating the head of his dick and the inside of his jeans. Her eager little hands twined in his hair and tugged as she deepened the kiss and mirrored the laps of his tongue.
Hurry the hell up or you’ll finish before she’s started.
As he carried his mate from the room, he changed his tune. Hope was not a bastard emotion. He took the notion back, more than happy to swallow the words and force them down his throat.
Right here, right now—he entered his bedroom and closed the door with a flick of his heel—hope was a fine fucking thing indeed.
Chapter Three
Mary couldn’t believe she was acting so bold and brazen, without a hint of shame or shyness. One minute she was fighting her longings. The next she decided she had nothing left to lose.
She could have died last night.
She could have been dead, gone—buried.
But she wasn’t. She was alive because of Emory.
She didn’t know how he’d found her or what he wanted, but none of it mattered. The life she once had was over. She couldn’t go back, only forward. If Emory decided the thing between them could only last in the short term, she’d accept the heartache and loss when the time came. Regardless of how he’d found her, or how long he intended to keep her and what waited on the horizon, she would have this for herself.
Emory made her feel safe. He made her feel wanted. And it had been so long since she’d felt either of those things.
Long gone was the timid and shy girl who was afraid she’d make a fool of herself sexually by doing something wrong. Apparently things weren’t as difficult as she’d once believed. Who knew that a virgin could get a man so ready and eager by reacting on instinct, grasping the bull by the figurative horns and letting her hormones take control? Emory was no longer the calm, restrained individual who handled her with kiddie gloves. He’d been replaced by a primal creature who kissed her with such intensity she wondered if he’d consume her with his hunger.
He bent at the waist and her back met the soft cushion of a down comforter. The contrast wasn’t lost on her. Hard muscles and flesh above, soft feathers and cotton beneath. As soon as she was balanced on the bed Emory’s hands left her ass and wandered upward, skimming along her waist and rib cage until her breasts were cupped in his hands. He squeezed his fingers, brought his thumbs around and rubbed them in a dizzying circle across her nipples. A jolt of fiery electricity spiraled from her stomach to her sex, so strong she arched her back and pushed the mounds into his hands.
“Beautiful, Mary,” Emory groaned against her lips. “So soft.” He tugged at her nipples through her bra, dragging another moan from her throat. “So sensitive.”
“Please.” She had no idea what she was begging for as she squirmed beneath him. All she knew was a fire had erupted in her body, a humming tingle that was slowly spreading from the hard peaks trapped within Emory’s fingers to the damp heat between her legs. Emory’s touch had always made her sizzle but it had never made her burn so hot she couldn’t remain still.
“I’m going to.” His lips drifted from her mouth, creating a path that wound down her chin and stopped at her throat. “I’m going to please you in so many ways, show you so many different things. I’m going to make you feel so good, sweetheart.”
He released her breasts, trailed his fingers along her abdomen and tugged on the hem of her T-shirt. She lifted her hips, aiding him in bringing the material up her body and over her head. Cool air caressed her skin, scattering goose bumps along her body. Emory tossed the garment aside and ran his lips along her collarbone, lapping at her heated flesh with his tongue as he eased his way down. Her stomach muscles clenched when he brushed his chin over her right nipple, the bristles along his jaw catching in the lace of her bra. The teasing touch wasn’t nearly enough and she arched her back again, trying to get him to direct his attention to where she wanted it most.
“Be still, mate.” Emory growled, the sound a low drumming in her ears.
Mate? She writhed uncontrollably, unable to do as he ordered, feeling as though her body were being consumed by flames. Diskant had referred to Ava as his mate. Perhaps it was common terminology in a pack. Her excitement grew at the thought. If Emory thought of her in that context, perhaps there was more between them than physical attraction, something that would extend their relationship beyond the pleasures of sex.
“Mate?” she questioned, running her fingers along the muscles that stretched and flexed in his shoulders.
Emory hesitated, his mouth hovering just over her nipple. When he didn’t continue she wrapped a hand around his neck, encouraging him to keep going. “Please,” she repeated, louder this time, and cried out when Emory pulled away and glared at her. His eyes were no longer brown but entirely molten amber.
“Still, Mary. Now.”
Was he nuts? She couldn’t be still. Not like this. “I can’t help it,” she complained, trying to do as he asked. “I’ve never felt like this before.”
His forehead smoothed as his face softened in understanding but the brightness in his irises didn’t dim. “Neither have I, but we have to talk. I want you so much I can’t breathe but I won’t take away your choice. We can’t take this further until you know everything. You have to understand where this leads.”
“Talk is overrated.” She clawed at his back when he tried to lift away. She knew exactly where this would lead—to the sex she’d always dreamed of. Emory would make love to her so thoroughly he’d leave an invisible brand behind, something to keep her company on the cold nights she anticipated would come soon enough. Tomorrow be damned. To hell with the bullshit, the danger and the unknown. Electricity hovered in the air, a direct link between the two of them.
What more was there to discuss?
“There’s no going back.” Emory groaned when she arched her back and pushed her hard nipples into his chest, his body quaking against hers. “Once I have you I’ll never let you go.”
Too many factors prohibited her from echoing the declaration so she pushed her doubts aside, blind to everything but the man above her. Actions were so much better than words, especially when a simple caress—such as her fingertips whispering along his neck—caused Emory to close his eyes and growl low in his throat, the deep vibration humming against her breasts. The shadow along his jaw was the sexiest thing she’d ever seen. When she lifted her hand and rubbed her knuckles against his chin she learned it was bristly but surprisingly soft as well.