She walked through, and her heart leaped to her throat.
He’d scattered pink rose petals all over the white bedspread. On the wall above the bed, he’d hung a sign that said “Mr. and Mrs. Orman”, hand-painted on weathered wood, with two sets of paw prints burned on to it – a set of wolf paw prints, and a set of fox paw prints. That name choice had been a family decision. He was not a Bronson. He didn’t feel like a Washborn.
“You made that yourself?” she said, her voice suddenly choked with emotion.
“You like it?” He glanced at her, his tone uncertain. “Is it okay?”
The big, macho bruiser was so obviously concerned about her reaction that her heart caught in her throat and she blinked back tears. “It’s not okay, it’s amazing.”
He slid his arms around her waist and pulled her back against him again. She felt the rock-hard thickness of his erection pressing into her back. He smelled of male musk and a faint hint of cologne.
“Last chance to back out,” he growled at her.
“Really? It’s not too late?”
“Hell yes, it is.” He laughed harshly. “You’re mine, Mrs. Orman. I own you, body and soul. There’s no escape.” He bent down and gently nipped her shoulder through the lace of her gown.
She moaned. “I don’t know. I run pretty…” he nipped her again, harder, and she gasped, “fast…”
“Ha. Try to outrun me.” He released her. The challenge in his voice stirred something fierce and defiant in her, and she turned and ran for the door. He was on her in seconds, scooping her up and throwing her over his shoulder.
He set her down roughly on the bed and looked down at her.
“Mine.”The raw possessiveness in his voice sent a rush of warmth through her body.
He ran his hand over her breast as her nipples pebbled under the silky white bodice.
“I cannot wait to get out of this dress,” she said, reaching back to unhook it. “I hate it with a fiery, burning passion that I normally only reserve for game shows and my sister’s fashion sense.”
“If you hate it, I hate it too. In fact, it’s my mortal enemy.” He grabbed the neckline and reached down to tear it, ripping it all the way down to her waistline.
“Oh,” she gasped in surprise and arousal. God, was he sexy when he went all beast on her.
“It’s dead to me!” He ripped again, tearing it down to the hem. The dress fell open as she threw her head back and laughed.
Then he bent down and bit the clasp holding the cups of her bra together, and the cups fell away.
“I liked that bra!” she cried out in protest.
“I’ll buy you a new one.”
She shimmied out of her panties as he began kissing his way down her stomach. Then she slumped back on the bed, liquid with desire. He nipped and licked her belly, pausing to trace a circle of kisses around her navel. Finally he was between her legs, his hands roughly spreading her thighs apart.
“Mine,” he whispered into her pussy, spreading her dewy lips open, his breath fanning her heated flesh. “Say it.”
“Yes…yours…” she gasped. His mouth closed over the small pink pearl of her clit, and he sucked hard, wrenching a cry of pleasure from her.
She tangled her fingers in his hair, moaning wordlessly as he tortured and teased her with light nips and swirls of his talented tongue.
Her body was filling with liquid heat that lapped over her in waves. The rest of the universe melted away. There was nothing but Austin and his mouth, driving her mad with desire. Then two fingers slid inside her, gently stroking her slick walls as he dragged his tongue over her clit again and again.
“Yessss…” she wailed. She was on the brink… She was almost…
He pulled away, wrenching her back from the precipice, and her muscles clenched in protest. She burned for the release that only he could give her, her whole body pulsing with need.
“You bastard!” she whimpered.
“But I’myourbastard.” He moved up her until he was pressing down on her with the weight of his hard, muscular body, lying between her thighs. “Only yours.”
