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“Mal?” She cupped his face, resting her forehead against his. “No regrets.” It was hard to say the words out loud, but she had no choice. “Distract me. Make me feel good, alive. Please. My body is hungry for you—”
He moved swiftly, his big hand tangling in her hair and pulling her down to him. His lips were brutal and desperate as they sealed with hers. And she loved it. Her mouth par
ted, and she was stunned by the shock of lust that wrapped around her. His tongue against hers. His other hand sliding up, stroking behind her knees, lightly caressing up her thighs.
He growled, rolling them and tugging her beneath him.
Breathe. Her lungs ached. Never in her life had she been so consumed with sensation. And it was oh-so-good. His back under her hands, muscles and heat. His lips devoured hers, moving on to her neck, soft, hungry, relentless. Mal’s scent was the ultimate aphrodisiac. Breathing him in made her body throb and ache in the best way possible. His chest pressed against hers. Her shirt was in the way—she wanted his skin again her, wanted no space between them.
He must have been thinking the same thing. Her shirt was across the floor in seconds. Mal sat back, staring down at her, wild-eyed and breathless. He groaned, his hands running down her sides, along her hips, and back up her stomach. One hand cupped her breast, stroking over the skin, plucking the tip gently as his gaze locked with hers.
She arched into his touch, unable to sever the hold he had on her. In his eyes was truth. He wanted her as much as she wanted him.
She thought he said, “Mirrors,” before rolling away from her.
He didn’t go far.
The exquisite stroke of his tongue against her knee had her moaning in earnest. His hands parted her legs as he kissed and licked the bend in her knees and up the soft skin of her inner thighs.
Her hands fisted in the blanket, waiting—hoping—uncertain. But then his fingers brushed through the fine thatch of hair between her legs, parting her sensitive flesh to stroke the most intimate part of her body. She was throbbing, aching. And his touch was divine.
He growled, his finger stroking against the tight nub again and again.
Her body bowed, responding without thought to his caress. When his finger slid inside her, she moaned again. This was Mal, joined with her physically—even in such a small way. On the inside, in her heart and mind, she’d accepted he was a part of her. An essential part. One she would fight to hold on to—no matter how hard he resisted.
Chapter Eleven
Watching Olivia writhe beneath him was hot as hell. Her nipples jutted up, begging for his mouth. He gave her what she wanted, what he wanted. He ran his nose along the swell of her full breast, his tongue teasing the puckered tips until she was gasping. She was so beautiful, so abandoned. Her lips parted, her ragged breath filling the room as he sucked her nipple into his mouth. She tasted so damn good. He took his time, learning what made her whimper—what pleased her most.
All the while, his finger was buried inside of her. Where he belonged.
His wolf was pacing, crazed with the need to claim her. She wanted this, the wolf insisted. She wanted to be his mate.
Mal kissed his way down her side, sucking hard enough to leave a mark on her creamy skin. His wolf would have to be satisfied with marking her skin. He went lower, tracing the arch of her hipbone, nuzzling the juncture of hip and thigh and easing her legs wide. Seeing Olivia so hungry for him, so exposed, almost shook his resistance. He wouldn’t bury himself inside her, wouldn’t please the wolf, no matter how much he ached for it. Instead, he slid another finger inside of her. She clenched around him, the breath powering out her chest and leaving him trembling. His dick so hard he knew he’d be hurting if he didn’t find some release.
His mouth latched on to her upper thigh, his teeth grazing the skin. When she reached down, her hands tangling in his hair, he smiled. She might not know what she was asking for, but he did.
His tongue skimmed over the tight bundle of nerves, driving her crazy. So good, like honey, pure honey. He wanted more. Every time he sank his fingers into her, his dick throbbed. She was tight and wet and ready for him. He couldn’t stop, couldn’t leave her—touching her was all that mattered.
She is ours.
He tried to shut the wolf out, to lose himself in the taste and feel of Olivia. But the knowledge that no one else had touched her this way was powerful. A surge of possessiveness gripped him, shaking him to the core. No one but him. Ever.
Not yet. He’d promised himself she would never be their mate. He couldn’t allow it. She deserved better.
Her fingers tightened in his hair, pulling his head closer.
He worshipped her, frantic to claim her in some small way. His tongue worked her over, pulling moans from the back of her throat. His fingers, tightly enveloped within her, stroked deep—drawing little gasps of pleasure. It was his mouth that made her fall apart beneath him. Nipping and sucking her clit, his tongue drinking in the taste of her as her body clenched and shook with the strength of her release. She grew soft and limp, her hands sliding from his hair.
Laying between her legs, his cheek resting on her thigh, it was hard to ignore his rock-hard dick and raging hunger. He ran his fingers over her, watched as her body clenched. The urge to bury himself deep, to finish what he started, wasn’t easing. Better to remove himself from the situation than lose his control.
She wrapped her legs around his waist. He growled, his hands on either side of her face, holding himself above her. So close—so fucking close he could feel her heat.
Olivia smiled at him. “Wow.” She was all smiles. “Really. Wow.”
All he could do was grunt as he tried like hell not to think about arching into her.
Her smile faded. “Are you mad?” she whispered.
