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He moved her onto her back on the sofa, his body between her legs, his mouth still enjoying her breast, his tongue doing wicked things to her nipple. She swept her hands up and under his shirt and sweater, feeling his back muscles exquisitely bunched for her tangible exploration. She loved the way his jeans-covered cock rubbed against her crotch, turning her on, making her wet and ready for him. The delightful smell of his raw, male wolf sex stirred her female scents to mingle with his. When he claimed her mouth in a searing kiss, his green eyes darkened, his posture, expression, and the delightful smell of him telling her that he wanted so much more.
She was burning up for him, wanting him to ease the throbbing between her legs. He moved then and began to unbutton her pants and slide the zipper down. She so wanted to go all the way, but she said, “Just dating, not mating,” reminding him in case the way she was reacting to him, to this, was telling him another story.
“You’re killing me,” he said and pulled off her jeans in a hurry.
She caught the pained smile he gave her. She thought she could make him come at the same time as last time and rubbed his cock through his pants, but then he slid his hand down her panties. When he began stroking her and kissing her, she only managed to slide her hands down the back of his pants and cup his firm buttocks.
His fingers stroked her fervently, dipping into her wet sheath and then circling her nub again. She was powerless to resist him, to resist this deep-seated draw between them. She’d never felt this strong of a pull before. Putting on the brakes was killing her as much as it was him.
He was rubbing himself against her thigh, claiming her with his scent, even if he couldn’t plunge his cock into her and permanently mate with her yet. He kept up the strokes, the pressure, the heat, the urgency, until she was shouting his name in a passionate, totally unguarded way. Which she had never done in her whole life.
She thought to help him come, like they’d done last night, but instead, he stiffly reached for her pants and handed them to her as he leaned down for another, much sweeter kiss.
“What about—” she said, about to ask about his needs.
He only shook his head, his voice husky when he spoke. “When it’s time, lass.”
She frowned a little at him, then pulled on her pants. “When it’s time for…?”
“For us.”
A mating. She sighed. “You aren’t going to make me feel guilty about this, are you?”
He chuckled. “Does that work?”
***
For a whole week, a great flurry of activity descended on the castle and surrounding property as clan members readied Argent Castle and the grounds for the big weekend bazaar, activities, and tour of the keep.
Guthrie continued to court Calla as much as he could, getting together with her to discuss plans, sitting with her at meals, trying to keep their relationship as “sweet” as possible to allow her time to get more used to him. Although being anywhere near her made him think of being with her alone and for a more intimate purpose. But as soon as they were alone, she made excuses not to go as far—kissing, cuddling, and a lot of fondling, and then she’d put on the brakes again.
This had been the longest week of his life. Not because of all the work to get things ready for the celebration, but because of the way he and Calla were left wanting after their intimate exchanges.
Calla called on associates she’d dealt with in her business over the years and was making a lot of progress toward organizing tour groups on short notice. The biggest draw was that the castle had never been open to the public. The only time the clan had allowed humans into the place was during the filming of the American Highland historical movie. Guthrie hadn’t even considered that aspect, but Calla had and was very good at seeing ways to market her expertise.
One of the things she brought up during their meeting was the public interest in a behind-the-scenes look at where the movie had been filmed.
“We could have some of the pack members who played bit parts in the movie reenact a couple of scenes, including the one in the great hall,” Calla had said when presenting the idea to Ian and Julia.
“As long as they stay well away from the Christmas tree, or there’ll be hell to pay if anyone knocks it over,” Julia warned. That reminded Guthrie of rescuing Calla under it—and the kiss they had shared.
The night he was to escort Calla to the masquerade party, Guthrie dressed in a traditional leather kilt, remembering his promise not to wear his MacNeill plaid. Even though it irked him not to wear his family colors with pride, it was their first real social gathering to attend as a couple. He was really looking forward to it, wanting to show she was with him, as a male wolf would with a she-wolf he was courting, and wanting to get away from the castle for a bit.
The bad part was that Baird and his kin were still a threat. Instead of taking this as a perfectly lovely social event where he and Calla had nothing to do but enjoy themselves, he still had to watch their backs.
Cearnach slapped him on the back and grinned. “You look a wee bit anxious, Brother.”
Guthrie frowned at him, not knowing what he meant.
“She’ll be impressed with your attire for the event. And Duncan, Oran, and I will watch your backs so that you can enjoy yourselves.”
“Aye, thanks,” Guthrie said, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to completely enjoy himself while he was protecting Calla.
Even so, Guthrie couldn’t help really anticipating what she’d wear to this event, after the toga she had sported before. When she arrived in the great hall, she was stunning in her forest green, Elizabethan-inspired velvet gown, perfect for a Christmas masquerade. The cut on the bodice showed the swell of her breasts, the trim waist and full skirt adding to the sexiness of her figure. Most of her hair was secured in an elegant twist on top of her head. Some of her red-gold curls framed her face, making him want to pull out her hairpins and see her hair cascade to her shoulders in soft waves.
The other ladies were all admiring her gown, touching it like he wanted to touch her. She caught his eye, her gaze instantly sweeping over him. That made him stand a little taller, like a wolf who wanted to impress her with his build. What was there about her that made him want to both please and tease her in a fun-loving way?
Her mouth curved up some, and he thought she either approved of his attire or was amused by it. Maybe a little of both.
One of the ladies handed her a red velvet hooded cloak. Little Red Riding Hood. This big, bad wolf in a leather kilt wanted to eat her all up.
