Kiss of Snow

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.

Shivering, she arched for him, felt his fingers slip inside her dress to the curve of her waist. The roughness of his skin was a shock that made her moan. More kisses on her back before he removed his touch to tug down the straps. Instead of turning onto her back, she rose up a fraction and pulled the straps down off her arms, pushing the dress to her waist.

A big, warm hand on her ribs, curving up to cup her breast without warning. Crying out, she fell forward. It trapped his hand between her body and the bed—not that he seemed to mind. Squeezing and petting her with possessive heat, he dropped a rain of kisses over her shoulders.

“No,” she protested when he removed his hand.

“I want this dress off.” A couple of hard tugs and it was gone, leaving her dressed in nothing but the lace panties she’d bought months ago but never before worn. They’d felt too hedonistic, too sensual. That was before she’d started playing with an alpha wolf.

Pushing long strands of hair off her face, she turned her head to see said wolf straddling her thighs. He was still clothed, that unbuttoned shirt pure provocation, but his eyes had gone night-glow, his face taut with wild hunger. It was instinct to curve her body up toward him, to seek to entice.

His gaze flicked up to meet hers, and then he moved, gripping her jaw so he could take her mouth in a full-bodied kiss that was all tongue and heat and teeth as he slid his free hand under her body to close over the sensitive flesh of one breast, the hard push of his erection insistent against skin naked under fine black lace. It was at that moment, with his beautiful, hungry mouth on hers, his big, gorgeous body pressing down against her own, and his fingers plucking at her nipple that she realized she was in way over her head.





HAWKE knew it the instant Sienna lost her confidence, the instant she started to retreat. Rubbing his thumb over her nipple, he fought his possessive urges and gentled the voracious kiss. She was his. There would be only pleasure for her tonight.

It was difficult to break away from her mouth, to resist the temptation to squeeze and mold her neglected breast. Instead, nudging her onto her back, he nuzzled at her neck before rising to shrug off his shirt. “Touch me?”

Her hands went to his chest at once, petting him the way she knew he liked. It made him want to spread her thighs, settle in between, until he could rub his cock against the damp softness of her. She’d be so lush, so perfect. Instead, he allowed himself only a single lick to the tip of one tightly furled nipple—to her quivering moan—before beginning to kiss his way down her body.

Her fingers clenched in his hair.