PLAY OF PASSION

She jerked as she felt the hard, silken heat of him nudging at her. “Drew …” Exhaustion forgotten, she raised her bottom a little, wanting him inside her. She loved the way he felt, loved the way he touched and stroked and petted.

“Uh-huh.” Still teasing her with the barest touch of his cock, he kissed the back of her neck, the top of her spine, stroking a single maddening finger around the place that was damp and hot and ready for his penetration. “I need to regain my pride.” More kisses down the line of her vertebrae, his hands gripping her hips. “Give you that foreplay.”

She shivered as his unshaven chin brushed against her lower back, as his lips touched the dip of her spine, his tongue flicking out to wet the spot before he blew a hot breath on it. “Mmm.” It was a sound of lazy pleasure as he shifted his body farther down the bed … and then he was gone.

Confused, she was about to turn when he gripped her ankles and tugged her until her hips were on the edge of the bed, her feet touching the floor. His hands moved again—to the backs of her thighs. Spreading them, he blew a breath against her. “What do you like, Indy? Licks”—quick, catlike flicks against her screamingly sensitive flesh—“nips”—the feel of teeth on her clitoris, her brain hazing over—“kisses?” Wet and hot and all consuming, his mouth claimed her, his tongue sliding into her in a teasing thrust before withdrawing.

She was trying to find air when he stopped, said, “So?”

“What?” she managed to gasp.

“You didn’t tell me what you liked. I wouldn’t want to get it wrong.”

She could feel him laughing, the demon. “You have no idea who you’re messing with.”

He rubbed the roughness of his chin against the soft skin of her inner thighs, licking and nipping in a way that tormented without offering relief. “I think I like this kind of foreplay.”

Indigo went to pull away, determined to grab him and ride him to exhaustion. But he felt the tenseness in her muscles and tightened his hold. Then his mouth delivered on the teasing. She hadn’t thought he could wring more pleasure from her already sated flesh.

She was wrong.

He seduced her with that wicked, laughing mouth, licking and stroking and teasing until she was on the very edge.

When he pulled away this time, she arched her back, inviting his possession. His thighs met the backs of hers an instant later, his body entering hers in a tight, slow push. Biting back a cry at the intensity of the sensation, she clenched her fists on the sheets.

He pulled her up until she could brace herself with her palms flat on the bed. “Am I hurting you?”

“No.” Never.

Then there was only the slick glide of flesh on flesh, heated, sensual murmurs, and the most searing pleasure.





*


Indigo came to wakefulness close to dawn, not the least surprised to find herself all but buried beneath heavy, warm male. Drew, she’d learned during the night, was a shameless bed hog—but he liked to keep her with him, so instead of being pushed off the bed, she was instead pulled under him, his thigh between hers, his hand on her breast, his face nuzzled into her neck.

She’d never had a lover attempt to claim her so totally. But, she thought, opening her heart a fraction, she could get used to this kind of affection. Because whatever he took, he gave back with staggering generosity.

Stroking her fingers into his hair, she thought over what he’d said. Because he wasn’t just affection and laughter and play—as she’d understood for the first time on the mountain two days ago. He was the pack’s tracker, with all that denoted. He was also a very, very strong dominant. He was absolutely right to demand that she learn to deal with him as he was learning to deal with her.

Her wolf growled, unhappy at the idea of bending for any man.

But was it really submitting, Indigo dared ask for the first time, if the man was bending toward you in return?

Having been wide awake since around three a.m., Hawke finished reading the latest draft of the proposed new building/land agreement in which SnowDancer was to be a silent partner and was about to push away from the desk when his phone beeped. Seeing the caller ID, he reined in his impatience. “Lucas, what is it?”

“We got hit with the Pure Psy e-mail last night,” the DarkRiver alpha said, “and a couple of our juveniles came to me with stories of being approached in online chat rooms.”

Hawke’s wolf peeled back its lips at the boldness of the group. “Juveniles okay?”

“Just insulted,” Lucas said, a thread of pride in his tone. “I’ve got Dorian watching the chat rooms in case they try again. We might be able to get something out of it. I’ll keep you updated.”