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“Queen. Jesus.” I dropped my head into my cupped palms. “Lucas, I can’t even shift. How am I going to be queen of the fucking werewolves?” I didn’t mention my surreal partial shift. I still hadn’t wrapped my head around what it meant, and I wanted to ask Grandmere about it before I told Lucas.
He tugged me to the edge of the couch and lifted my hands over his head so they were draped around his neck. With his forehead against mine and the comfortable, familiar scent of him filling my nose, it was impossible to hold on to my anger. I couldn’t remember what I was angry about.
Fucking empathy.
He kissed me, treading lightly in case I bit or punched him. I did neither. When I didn’t resist, he slid his hands under my thighs, his fingers tickling my bare skin, and dragged me closer to him so he was wedged between my legs. His lips trailed down my neck, hot breath prickling my skin with a wave of goose bumps.
When his tongue grazed my throat I inhaled sharply, but I didn’t stop him. His hands continued their quest upwards, bunching my dress around my hips. His natural fragrance mingled with a spicy aftershave, making him smell exotic and reminding me of the flavor he’d once had. When his tongue stroked mine, I responded with months of pent-up feeling.
Since Lucas and I had met almost a year earlier, we had treaded a fine line between platonic and passionate. Our chemistry had never been in question, but until this moment I hadn’t realized how much I wanted to obliterate the line. I didn’t know if the new mate bond was responsible for my vigor, but whatever the reason, I found myself arching against him to lessen the distance between us.
“Lucas…” I breathed his name against his kiss-roughened lips, and he seized my mouth again with such intensity I forgot whatever words I’d intended to say.
He pushed me backwards onto the buttery leather of the couch, his body covering mine. His height and build were similar to Desmond’s, but being with Lucas felt different. Where Desmond was willing to let me be a little pushy, Lucas was clearly set on being in control of this whole show. Although I liked being in charge, there was a thrill of the unknown to wonder what he would do next.
My jacket was tugged off and thrown to the floor, followed shortly thereafter by my dress. The material puddled on the ground with a hushed sigh, as though it was speaking secrets as it fell. Chilly air brushed against my bare skin, hitting home how exposed I was. Knowing we were mere feet away from hundreds of socialites and millionaire businessmen did nothing to quell the rising need between us. If anything, Lucas seemed more excited than he ever had on our previous trysts.
Probably because he could sense I wasn’t readying myself to stop him.
I wasn’t going to stop.
Keeping me pinned with an exaggerated thrust of his hips, he pulled away from a breath-rattling kiss and met my gaze. His eyes were bluer than I’d ever seen, but tinged with a circle of citrine around the iris. His normal staid expression was gone, replaced with something wild and needy.
“Don’t ask me to trust you,” I rasped, raking my fingernails against the fine layer of stubble on his jaw. His eyes closed, and he rubbed his face into my hand like a cat begging for attention.
; “If you don’t trust me by now, I’m done asking.”
“Good. Too much talk.”
I lifted my back from the couch to kiss him. As my tongue explored the sensitive planes of his mouth, he unclasped my bra and added the small swatch of lace to settle with the rest of my clothes. Lucas’s suit jacket, tie and dress shirt gave the floor a full evening-wear selection. I ran my thumbs along the exaggerated ridges of his pelvis, then trailed my hands upwards over the firm expanse of his hard-earned six-pack.
“Take off your pants,” I growled.
He lifted me by the waist as if I weighed nothing and pushed me back down. Blue eyes glinting mischievously, he licked my lower lip, and his fingers teased at the waistband of my underwear. Without breaking eye contact, he took my hand and placed it against his still-clothed erection. “Do it for me,” he insisted.
I nearly broke his zipper.
When he was naked, I let out a sharp gasp of appreciation. There must be some special side effect of werewolf DNA that made the men well hung, and I wasn’t about to question it since I definitely benefited from the results.
Lucas wound his fingers around the waistband of my underwear and gave a demanding tug. I arched my hips and then, at last, we were both totally bare.
“I’ve wanted you for so long,” he said into my ear.
I wrapped my legs around his hips, angling my pelvis so he was pressed over my opening. I shuddered, my body trembling with the anticipation of what was to come. “I know.”
“I’m never letting you go,” he promised.
Lucas had made so many promises he had no way to keep, but this once I was willing to let him lie about, since I wanted to believe it. In his arms I could pretend he had asked to marry me because he loved me. With him trailing kisses down my throat, and his mouth latching onto my breast, I wanted nothing more than to believe this was the way things were supposed to be. That all the crazy, fucked-up bullshit had been for something good.
He drove into me with a hard thrust, and I cried out, my nails digging into the warm skin of his shoulders. Over and over he pumped until our bodies found their rhythm, and I met each thrust with an arch of my back and we were both slick with sweat.
When we were both on the brink, hovering on the precipice of orgasm, something in my head said, Open your eyes. I obeyed and found him staring at me, his blue irises nearly swallowed by the ring of yellow-green. He held my face between his palms as he dug deep with one last, shuddering thrust. I gasped, but no sound came out.
It took us a moment to breathe again, and when I finally did, he brushed sweat-dampened hair off my cheek and smiled. “Now you really are mine.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
