On second thought . . .
Throwing the spoon over his shoulder, he dipped his finger in the rich butterscotch ice cream, brought it to her lips. Her mouth formed a soft, hot vice around his finger as she sucked—then she brought her tongue into play.
Every part of him wanted to lunge at her, but he resisted the primitive urge. This night, it was about her. She’d given herself to him, and he wanted her to know that he understood the value of her gift, that he would never allow her to feel anything but cherished.
Removing his finger through lips that teased him with their luscious grip, he swirled it back in the ice cream and painted the curve of her mouth with the sweet treat before dipping his head and kissing it off. Her lips were cool from the icy treat, but they warmed up fast, her taste a lick of butterscotch and spice.
“I think,” she said, hands clenching on the lapels of his shirt, the top curves of her breasts flushed and plump, “I’ve had enough dessert.”
“Then”—he nipped at her lips because he loved the way her arousal spiked each time he did it, flicked his tongue over the small hurt—“I guess it’s time for mine.” He felt the tremor that shook her frame as he drew her out of her seat, knew it wasn’t fear. Sliding his hands down her ribs, he rested them on the temptation of her hips. Anticipation turned her eyes to midnight as he backed her out, kiss by slow kiss, from the living area and into his bedroom.
Onto his bed.
“Mine,” he said, moving around to the end of the bed after placing her on the sheets, so he could circle his hands around her ankles, tug her forward a couple of inches. “All mine.”
“Hawke.”
“I like the way you say my name in bed.” Lifting one slender foot, he pressed a kiss to her ankle, then undid the strap that held up her pretty sandal and dropped it to the floor. Her foot curled under his touch, a delicate kittenish arch. “Maybe I’m the one who’s going to end up with a foot fetish,” he murmured, lighting a kiss on her other ankle as he undid the second sandal.
A laugh that sounded startled out of her.
Pleased with himself, he took a playful bite of her little toe as he flicked aside her shoe and raised his head. “Look at you, aroused and sexy and in my bed.”
No blush, no hesitation. Those passion-dark eyes followed him as he shrugged off his jacket and threw it on the back of a chair, before beginning to unbutton his shirt. His wolf preened for her.
SIENNA clutched at the sheets, her body making small restless shifts as Hawke’s black shirt parted to expose a strip of masculine chest she wanted to rub up against in the most scandalous of ways. When he tugged the shirt out of his pants and finished unbuttoning it, her throat dried up.
There was something deliciously decadent about a man—about him—in a partial state of undress. As if she’d caught a glimpse of the forbidden.
Kicking off his shoes and socks without taking his eyes off her, he prowled over to the side of the bed. “I like this dress,” he said, and it was a vocal caress. “Let’s not tear it.” Putting one knee on the bed, he leaned down to kiss her, pure heated demand. “Turn over,” he murmured after he’d melted her bones.
It probably wasn’t the best of ideas to give him everything he wanted, but she had no willpower where he was concerned. Could any woman resist him when he was like this? Sienna didn’t think so—of course, if any other woman did ever dare touch him, she’d fry the bitch in under a second.
“What just went through your head, hmm?”
She told him the truth, saw the wolf laugh, bare its teeth. “That’s my girl.” His hands flipped her onto her front. “You understand it’s a two-way street?” Fingers pushing aside her hair to bare her nape. “Next time that baby cat puts his hands on you, he’s dead.”
“Kit is my friend.”
“You can’t have a baby cat alpha as a friend.” A bite on her nape.
Oh, God. It was near impossible to think, but she found the will to reach back and pull on his hair. “Leave my friends alone or I’ll be forced to get mean.”
Licks over the bite, laughter against her ear. “I like you,” he said, and she had the deep, deep awareness that it was the wolf part of him that had spoken with such delight.
The tug came an instant later, the zipper being lowered. Then . . . a breath of hot air against her spine, open-mouthed kisses along the skin bared by the parting metallic teeth.