He desired her more than he’d ever wanted anyone in his life. And he was so close to having her for good. But patience, he reminded himself. For her sake, he had to let her get used to the idea.
Shifting his hands to her wet hair, he gently combed his fingers through the silky strands, mesmerized with the feel of her slippery body pressed against his, and the way she licked her lips and watched him with eyes filled with desire.
She broke the spell by running soap down his penis, which reacted instantly and eagerly to her touch. He captured her mouth in a hungry kiss with no holds barred, urgent, passionate, needy. God, he was needy. Forget having the strength to let her get used to the notion of being his mate. He wanted her now, fully and forever.
He slid his fingers between her legs and began stroking where he found her wet from her own needs and from the shower. She moaned with pleasure and clenched her hands around his waist, demanding that he finish what he’d started. But he wanted to finish so much more than what he’d begun.
He stroked her sex, and his touch took her by a storm, judging from the way her knees weakened and how tightly she clutched at him.
He wanted to trap her against the tile shower wall and claim her, but he continued to stroke her, watching her eyes close as she clung fiercely to him, her breath shallow, her heart beating fast and furious. Arching against his questing fingers, she let out a little cry, right before he captured her mouth to silence her sounds of exultation. She trembled and sagged against him as the orgasm rippled through her, looking as though she wasn’t up for much more.
But her lips curved up in a wicked little grin as her eyes opened, her gaze capturing his. She huskily whispered, “Your turn.”
Only this time, he wanted her snug little feminine chamber holding him tight. Then again, her hand on his erection—sliding, touching, and tightening—held him hostage, a very willing hostage, and he was grateful to have this intimacy between them any way he could. His hands were on her hips now, his cheek against hers, his body soaring with her strokes.
Carol felt drained and, at the same time, as if she’d soared on an eagle’s wings across the world and back. She wanted to collapse in bed with Ryan and sleep the rest of the day, tight in his embrace. She loved to see his reaction when she stroked his needs, just as she could see how much pleasure he got from seeing how much she loved his touch. She knew he wanted to be inside her. She wasn’t ready. Or at least she wouldn’t admit to herself that she was. Not yet.
This touching—the sexual play between them, intimate and satisfying—was enough for her now. She hoped he would understand. Although from the way his heart was pounding and his hands were gripping her hips harder, he was having a difficult time holding on. He seemed all right about wanting just this for now.
She had claimed him, held power over him, and seen his eyes swimming with lust. He was beautiful and sexy. Hard all over, but tender of heart. She loved that he was a wolf and a man, all wrapped up in one.
Her hand squeezed his arousal just a little more as she stroked him, and he groaned and even appeared a bit weak-kneed. Then he came with a more soulful groan, which she hurriedly tried to silence with a deep kiss. He responded desperately to her kiss with the same passionate tongue strokes.
“You’re killing me, Carol,” he whispered against her ear as he hugged her tight against his chest.
If the water hadn’t begun to cool and she hadn’t shivered, she was sure he would have held her there longer in his hard embrace.
“I’m the one for you. All your patients say so. The bachelor males in the pack already know so. Tom’s out of the picture since he’s looking for a dream mate. And Jake’s too late. Even my sister informed me you would be perfect for me, nice and pliable,” Ryan said in a hushed voice, as if making a last-ditch effort to ensure she knew he wasn’t giving her up to anyone.
Carol’s brows arched at the reference to her being pliable.
“I told Rosalind you weren’t the least bit biddable.”
“What do I have to say about this? Anything?” Carol pinched his nipples lightly.
“Just agree.” He quickly rinsed them both off before the water could turn from cool to cold. “You need to learn our ways,” he added, whispering against her ear.
She backed away, but he stopped her with his hand on her wrist before she could leave the tub.
“Absolutely no way am I shifting. Not in light of what’s going on. And besides, I won’t take a mate just because…” Her eyes narrowed, and she stiffened. “Don’t tell me that it’s okay to mate with me now that you believe I’m psychic.”
“That’s not the reason at all. But you’re going to be my mate.”
She laughed, which made him frown.
“I’m serious,” he said, feigning bruised pride.
“Well, of course you are. I’ve told you all along that you want me. But more is at stake here than your needs.” She left the tub and grabbed a towel.
By the time he’d finished rinsing off and towel dried, she had dressed and left the bedroom. Hell, he knew that this business of shifting would be a sticking point with her, but he hadn’t thought he’d muddle it up so quickly.
When Carol reached the bar in the den in search of a good stiff drink, she found Jake drinking hot cocoa as he leaned back on a recliner and watched her. She frowned at him, whipped around, and headed for the kitchen, the cocoa sounding a lot better on this chilly night. Besides, chocolate always did her a world of good.
“Problems?” Jake asked, following her into the kitchen.
She really didn’t need Jake pestering her right now.
Jake took a sip of his cocoa and then set the mug down and pulled one out of the cupboard for her. “What did he say or do to upset you?”
“Nothing, Jake.”
“Your face is flushed. You’re breathing hard. If you were a wolf…”
“I’m not, damn it.” She stared at the counter, her eyes blurring with tears. She brushed away a couple that dared to slide down her cheeks.
Looking uncomfortable, Jake didn’t say anything further. He just poured her a mug of hot chocolate. She heard Ryan coming before he entered the kitchen and wished they’d both leave her alone.
When Ryan walked inside, he didn’t speak to either of them, but she knew they were exchanging knowing looks. Two men, both born lupus garous, both on the same side of the issue. She wouldn’t gain anyone’s sympathy here. She muttered a thank-you to Jake for the hot chocolate and then escaped to the solitude of the sunroom, hoping that neither of them would follow her.
The room was cold: the fire was untended, and the massive windows let in the chilly air now that the sun had disappeared for the night.
She sat on one of the sofas and threw a wool afghan over her lap and took a long sip of the hot chocolate, wishing she and Ryan were just two ordinary people who had found each other and fallen in love. Everything was so complicated with them being werewolves. Did Ryan think he could order her around because he had been born a werewolf? Because he would be her mate? She was not shape-shifting!
She gazed out the window at the darkness and saw Mervin staring off into the woods. Serving as one of their guards, no doubt. She sighed. No matter how much she wanted to avoid her wolf side, she also wanted Ryan. Unfortunately, having one meant having the other.
The room was so cold that she slipped off her shoes and tucked her feet underneath her on the velour sofa. But she still shivered as she looked out the window where she observed the growing moon, beautiful and white like a huge, exquisite pearl against the black velvet night.
She drank more of her chocolate, trying to shake the chill. The heat from the chocolate and the blanket were beginning to warm her. Warm her… no. The moon. She gritted her teeth, feeling the urge to shift, the craving to ditch her clothes, and tried to summon a vision. But nothing came to her.