The harder and deeper I stared into Jericho’s soulful eyes, the more I wanted him to take me. I imagined him unbuckling his pants and pulling down my shorts, pinning me against that tree. My breathing became erratic, and my eyes hooded as I allowed the fantasy to overcome me.
Jericho lightly bit my bottom lip and pulled back—a claiming gesture. He let go and stroked the back of my neck with experienced fingers.
“Turn around, Isabelle.”
I didn’t want to break eye contact; I didn’t want to lose the sexual energy that was becoming a dull ache.
When he stepped back, I turned around and held my hands against the bark of the tree.
Without hesitation, Jericho swept my hair off my shoulder and put his mouth on the nape of my neck. I cried out at the rapturous feel of his tongue, the soft and hard sucking he alternated between, and the scrape of his teeth. He blew a warm breath on my sensitive skin and suddenly cupped his hand between my legs.
When I moaned, he covered my mouth with his left hand.
“Shhh, baby. Not so loud.”
His fingers began moving and working me over until all I wanted was Jericho.
He drew his hand up and slipped it inside my shorts. I was so close, and having my back to him felt so right—it was the way among Shifter wolves.
His fingers sank into my panties, and he slipped one inside me.
“So wet,” he whispered in a shaky breath.
My cheeks flushed with heat—I couldn’t take it anymore. Pleasure intensified with every stroke, lick, and kiss against my neck. When he growled, low and provocative, I reached around and unzipped his pants.
“Isabelle,” he said in a silken voice. “Don’t.”
“Yes,” I whispered against his hand, which had loosened from my mouth.
It became a race. The more I tried to unlatch his button in the struggle to free him, the more his fingers worked inside me. I felt a tightening sensation and finally his button popped free.
Jericho moaned against my neck, moving his mouth to my shoulder. “Stop, Isabelle. Don’t touch me. I want to make you come. No sex has ever compared to making you come with one touch. Let me touch you, baby.”
His fingers went deeper, and I moaned with so much need and lust that I pulled down his underwear and stroked him behind my back. I reached up to wiggled out of my shorts when something stilled the both of us.
“Izzy Monroe!”
The crowd roared.
Jericho backed up. “Shit. We’re on.”
I slowly turned around, leaning against the bark of the tree with my shorts pulled halfway down my hips.
Jericho bit his lip. “I don’t know if I can go up onstage with you looking at me like that, Sexybelle.”
I tugged my shorts up and smiled at him. “I told you all those donuts would be nothing but trouble. Get up onstage. I want to watch you perform.”
He stalked forward and kissed me hard, his tongue crashing against mine and igniting those feelings once again. “The first song is for you,” he said.
Jericho zipped up his pants and headed toward the stage, the edges of his blazer flapping with his rapid pace. I pulled myself together and laughed quietly. “Jericho Sexton Cole, you’re going to get me into so much trouble,” I whispered, watching him climb onto the stage and swing his guitar over his shoulder.
The stars were magnificent overhead, and I slowly made my way toward the stage, hypnotized by his voice that called out to me in a song. It wasn’t a song I’d heard before. He began the show with a bluesy acoustic melody—a ballad.
The audience was captivated.
I battled the demons that darkened my soul,
I broke into pieces but you made me whole.
I promise to make you a home in my heart,
we’ll rebuild our lives, and we’ll make a new start.
Mmm. My Isabelle, I can tell… by the look in your eyes…
My breath caught. The crowd vanished, and I gravitated toward a man who sang into a microphone that connected to my soul. His eyes roamed through the crowd and then found me. I lifted my bracelets and smiled. Jericho winked and finished singing the song he’d written for me.
On the spot.
I kissed the palm of my hand and raised it up in the air. He reached out as if to grab something and then held his closed fist to his chest. All the girls around me screamed and someone threw her panties at his feet.
I laughed and wondered how I’d gotten myself into this. Was I really standing here falling in love with Jericho Sexton Cole beneath a starry night? I’d always loved him, but this was something entirely different.
Maybe it was just seeing his sexy eyes searching for me in the crowd. Could have been his bare chest beneath his jacket, or the way his mouth caressed each word he sang into the microphone. It might have been the roar of tingles I felt between my legs when I thought about the way he’d gently handled me not five minutes ago and how I needed him.
More of him.
When the song ended, the band huddled together.
“Hey, Izzy!”
I blinked into reality and turned my head.
April approached in a white cutoff shirt and had about seven blue glow sticks tied around her neck. “Isn’t Trevor amazing?”