Tangle of Need

A slight pause before she shook her head.

“Tell me when I get too heavy,” he murmured, easing his lower body into the lithe curves of her own.

Her lashes came down over eyes that remained a haunting wild amber, then rose again. “It feels good.”

Sliding his hand to her shoulder, he rubbed his thumb gently over the bite mark before reaching up to massage her nape, her scalp. Slow, long minutes passed, but she relaxed at last, going boneless under him. Pressing a hotly possessive kiss to the curve of her jaw, he squeezed her neck. “We’re not just sex.”

Riaz had made up his mind to pursue this indefinable, wonderful thing that had grown between him and Adria when neither one of them had been looking, and he wasn’t going to allow the damage done to her by another man to destroy that. “Are we?” It was a question heavy with demand, his fingers tightening.

She dug her nails into the sheets, her jaw set. He knew she wasn’t physically scared by him being on top of her—they both understood he’d release her the instant she made it clear she wanted out. No, her fear had an altogether different cause, her panic one he could taste in her skin when he licked out at her, the sheen of perspiration that covered her a fine sparkle. “Adria.”

ADRIA jerked at the unrestrained dominance in that command. For the first time, she realized exactly how careful he’d been with her in their sexual encounters to date—he might have been tender, passionate, and urgent in turn, but he hadn’t allowed her to see into the heart of the black wolf within. This man, the one who was speaking to her in a soft tone that was a hot blade over her skin, this was the primal core of him.

His fingers moved against her neck, a silent reminder that he held the reins. Her wolf wasn’t happy with that … yet it was. The confusion of it caused a chaos of emotion inside her. So long she’d been with a man who had forced her to silence and stifle her true self in a hundred small ways because he hadn’t been strong enough to handle her. Now, she was with a man who not only didn’t have a problem accepting her strength, but who was also strong enough to overpower her in every way that mattered to a changeling.

Panic burned her gut like acid. She was the one who had always been in control, the one who could stop things before they went too far, before they pushed her too deep into painful emotional territory. “I changed my mind,” she said, her tumult a smoldering blaze inside her skin, swamping all rational thought. “We need to break it off.”

Releasing her nape, Riaz began to stroke his hand through her hair again, slow and easy and unmistakably, unbearably possessive. “I can scent your panic.” A kiss on the mark he’d made when he’d bitten her. “Talk to me about it.”

She couldn’t do it, couldn’t expose the naked, vulnerable girl inside the skin of the woman. However, when she went to turn her face away, he lifted his body off her. Another kind of panic stung her, the sense of loss devastating. But she was being turned onto her back before she could react, Riaz’s heat covering her once more as he brushed her hair out of her eyes with his free hand, his other one braced by her head.

“I saw a cactus in the desert once,” he said, his voice low and deep and a hum over her skin. “Called Queen of the Night. It had this exquisite creamy flower, and the scent, it intoxicated my wolf. But it only opened at night—you had to be patient to see it.” Eyes of beaten gold. “I’m very patient.” Suckling her upper lip into his mouth in an unexpected kiss, he tore her T-shirt on one side with his claws and—holding her gaze—shaped his hand over her bare rib cage.

Shivers raced over her frame. She tried to arch into him, sliding her hand around his body to push up his own tee so she could touch the hot, muscled skin of his back. “Please.”

But he shook his head. “Sex is easy.” He rocked against her, the hot steel of his erection pushing against the slick, needy flesh between her thighs. “I breathe your scent and I’m ready.”

“Then why are you doing this?” she whispered, one hand fisting against his chest. “Let’s keep it easy, as it was.” No demands, no expectations, no heartbreak. Because she’d been wrong—she wasn’t brave enough to chance more scars, more bruises. Not when this time around, she knew the agony would be so much worse.

Her wolf had never adored Martin as it adored the black wolf with the golden eyes.