But the sounds coming from his throat didn’t form words. More like something between a growl and a groan. His wet jeans gripped his swelling cock like a vise and he unsnapped the top button, slid down the zipper to free himself. His erection sprang up. And out. No worries about shrinkage. No amount of cool lake water would deflate that throbbing girder.
She gasped, even though he knew she’d seen him before, his length, his thickness, his state of sexual stimulation, as he lay on his back, chest heaving, recovering from the sensual effects of the moon. Although, to be fair, she’d probably never seen him exhibiting this raw degree of pulsing need.
Nearly shaking, he struggled for control, for dominance, battling the wolf. He was not an animal. No moon glowed, gripping him with compulsion. The afternoon sun shone bright. She wasn’t prey to be stalked. She was a female to be caressed and stroked. Despite his hot fantasies, no way would he grab her and toss her onto her belly. No way would he jack her to her knees and slam into her like a rabid beast.
“I—just want to touch you,” he managed at last. “I won’t hurt you. Promise. I won’t do anything you don’t—”
“Okay.” Her voice, so soft, so sweet. Like when she sang to him. A musical lilt, a calming cadence. Cutting across his blather. Unclouding his mind. He stared into trusting eyes. Dark hazel. A dense forest green ringed by a thin border of lush brown, flecks of gold lightening the irises. Yeah. Summer. The fullness of the season, of August—warm and serene. Before the first crisp snap and crackle of fall.
“Okay?” Apparently he’d been lobotomized again. Struck fuckin’ dumb. The wolf mocked his inaction, pacing faster, whining and growling, claws out and prickling his skin.
She stepped into him, as if as impatient with his stupidity as his beast. He realized how petite she was, how much smaller than he, her bones fragile, birdlike. This close he loomed like a great bull in a delicate china shop.
“I’ve waited for you a long time, Brick,” she said. “I want you to touch me.”
He seized her by her narrow shoulders, and forced his hands to gentle, to slide down her slick sides until he held her around the waist. A waist so tiny he could span it with his hands. The scent of her arousal clobbered him, the muskiness of sex overwhelming her more intricate and subtle fragrance. “Can I kiss you?”
“I think you’d better.” Her voice came out strong, as if she were consciously imposing an iron will to sound more forceful. To meet him. To match him. To stand with him on equal footing. But the words wavered a little at the end, her breathing uneven. She couldn’t quite hide her excitement, either, it seemed. She arrowed another glance up at him through a fringe of dark lashes. “Don’t you?”
He drew her toward him and she lurched into the circle of his arms. He pulled her into him. Closer. Tighter. His body hard. Rigid. Surrounding her. Her bare breasts smashed against his naked chest. Her legs jammed between his denimed thighs. He could wedge one hand between them and stroke her until she orgasmed and went limp. Or palm one of those rose-tipped tits. He didn’t think she’d stop him.
But she raised her chin off his chest and stared at his lips. Her tongue darted out to wet her own. The wolf growled. Or maybe he did. Kiss. Yeah. Start there.
He had to slow it down or he’d break his promise to her. He’d have her on all fours, moaning and groaning—and not necessarily with pleasure—while he grunted and sweated on top of her. Plunging his cock in and out of her. Hard. Fast. Without preparing her or getting her ready for him. Without foreplay of any kind.
He touched the plump curve of her lower lip with the pad of his thumb, the simple gesture a teasing caress. She parted her lips and closed her eyes. He leaned forward and bent his head to hers. Goddess. Mother of the Moon. The scent of honeyed musk berries intoxicated him. His head whirled.
His mouth came down over hers, wreaking havoc with his good intentions. After the first instant of sweet shock, hesitant exploration gave way to sheer excitement. She returned his kiss with hunger, her tongue sweeping against his. And then he took possession, the kiss long and deep. Going hard. The way he wanted to be inside her. Not quite claiming. Not yet. But every instinct rose to the fore until he’d dwarfed her, engulfed her with his body, completely dominating her. He smelled himself on her, like an identification stamp obliterating any other stops on her passport.
“Don’t play big, bad alpha with me,” she murmured, her lips vibrating against his.
He gulped a breath. “Can’t help it.” Wow. Where the hell had that come from? But he recognized the unwanted truth smacking him over the head like a two-by-four. He. Could. Not. Help. It.
“Well….” Whatever she meant to say faded against the surging strength of his next kiss, more hungry, more powerful, more necessary to him than the last. “Okay.”
He forced himself to slow down again, to take a step back. To leash the beast. Rein in the rampant dominance to which she’d hesitantly, reluctantly acquiesced. Lifting his mouth away from hers, he rested his forehead against her brow, breathing heavily, nearly panting.