Something niggled in the back of her mind, something about the wolves and their sexuality. She’d heard whispers, rumors, but she couldn’t quite bring the elusive thought front and center. Not with Brick melting her, turning her brain to mush. Did the wolves even get sexually transmitted diseases? She didn’t know. She wasn’t sure Brick knew himself, living up here alone so long.
But she remembered his monthly trips into town, where he almost certainly visited Cal’s whores from time to time. Cal’s girls were clean, and Brick’s wolf ability to heal would probably make him pretty invulnerable. And as for young…. This was their first time. And, much as she might want that, it was far too soon to contemplate. They needed to build their relationship first. Make it strong and durable. Whether or not anything was possible or impossible…they couldn’t take that chance.
“Won’t risk you, sweetheart. Will always take care of you.” He collapsed on his back next to her and flung an arm across his eyes. His chest heaved, rising and falling as if he’d run a marathon.
“How could you not have any?”
“I’m a fucking lone wolf,” he reminded her. “I don’t bring anyone here. At least not since….”
Oh, yeah, right. Not since the one aborted attempt when she’d dropped her sticky little care package into that bimbo’s over-teased beehive.
“No female’s ever been in this bed before.”
Oddly, his little admission kinda inflated her. She nearly smiled. Until she remembered there’d be no somethin’ doin’ in this bed this afternoon, either.
She looked around the loft. Spacious, comfortable. Besides the large bed, massive bureaus, a table of polished oak, chairs, all of which she suspected he’d built himself. Floor-to-ceiling windows flooded the room with sunlight—and moonlight at night—and offered a view of the lake, the mountains beyond. Built-in shelves. Her trinkets arrayed like precious, hard-earned trophies.
“Like what you’ve done with the place,” she offered.
“Seriously?” He groaned again.
“Well, what then, Brick? We’re both just gonna lie here hurting?”
“Hell, no. I’ve got this, sweetheart.”
Rolling onto his side, he loomed over her, large and unyielding, and planted a long, hard deep one on her lips. He raised his head briefly to wink at her. “Be sure and let me know if it hurts too bad.”
When he’d kissed her until her lips felt bee stung and swollen, he worked his way across her jaw, to the soft skin below her chin. She tilted her head and shut her eyes. Now, she thought. Now he’ll bite me. Brand me. Claim me. Make me his. But he didn’t. The little nips he left on her throat teased her until she groaned.
“Does it hurt?” Pools of mischief lit up the brandy-colored eyes. Too deep and brown for her to see the wolf. Chocolate and coffee and all things delicious.
“No.”
“How about this?” He lowered his head to her chest, his mouth closing over first one breast and then the other. His kisses scalded her. He tongued her nipple to an erect peak, as he had down by the lake, but so different, so much hotter when his weight pinned her beneath him, the mattress of his bed below her back, his long length flush against her, skin to skin. The friction of his body against hers shot indescribable sensations through her. He kissed and sucked her other breast and tentacles of burning pleasure spiraled within her, binding every nerve and cell, building a sweet ache between her legs that had her squirming.
She moaned, wanting, needing more. So much more.
“Yeah?” he mumbled, his lips vibrating against her flesh. “But not enough.”
He traveled down her length, his hands as busy as his mouth. Past her navel. Her hips. The tops of her thighs.
She wriggled under him, pushing at his shoulders to shift his position and allow her to part her legs for him. “Damn it, Brick.”
“Ah.” He bent over her and dropped a brief kiss on her mound. “There. Is that where it hurts, sweet Summer?”
“Like I’m on fire.”
“Should I kiss it and make it better?” He slid farther down her torso, gripping her thighs, spreading them apart.
“I think you should stop talking, wolf.” She grabbed his hand and guided him to her sex. He slid his blunt fingertips over her wet folds, her slick, sensitive skin. His touch nearly had her coming off the bed, despite his weight.
He leaned over to kiss her, his tongue lapping at her, swirling up and back, in circles, until he’d rendered her mindless. She gasped, crying out with pleasure as he closed his lips around her swollen bud, toying with her, tongue and teeth. She writhed and thrashed as he licked and sucked, his groans of passion echoing hers. The delicious pressure within her bordered on pain, and Brick took her to the point of no return. She grasped the back of his neck, holding him against her as the orgasm built and ecstasy coiled through her. As she bucked against his mouth, he inserted a finger inside her, then a second. And she was lost, hurtling into an ocean of rapture that fired off a chain reaction of impossible contractions and clicked the off switch in her head.