by Dani Harper
And this time, she was determined to have.
Chapter Seventeen
He was leaning into her yet Zoey didn’t back up a single step. She matched his passion with her own, licked and nipped at his mouth, his tongue. Bit his chin again but lapped over it softly to ease the sting. There was no hesitation in her as her hands clawed lightly down his back, then slid around to flick open his jeans. Her fingertips circled upward, tugging apart his denim shirt. Buttons flew, but there was no pause, no uncertainty as she brushed her lips across his bare chest and gently seized a nipple in her teeth.
He froze, sucking in his breath. Her tongue played with the captive nipple, then she nuzzled her way to its mate before resuming her original mission—to get this man naked. Her hands outlined the hard muscles of his upper body, rubbed up and over his broad shoulders, then eased the shirt down his powerful arms, over the strong hands. She held the warm garment close to her face as she stepped back for a moment, instinctively drinking in the scent of him as she took in the sight. He stood perfectly still, allowing her to look.
Fully clothed, the man was sigh-worthy. Shirtless, his jeans unbuttoned and riding low on his hips, he was simply heart-stopping. The candles’ glow revealed a powerful body that combined strength with an easy grace, yet she sensed that the difference between Day Connor and Night Connor went deeper than appearance. There was something dangerous here, a force barely leashed. It radiated from him, unseen yet palpable. She hesitated. . . .
And he winked.
Just that quickly he was back to the Connor she knew, his pale gray eyes amused. She laughed a little, more at herself than anything, but didn’t move closer, not yet. Instead her fingertips moved to the buttons of her blouse. The amusement vanished from his face. It was his turn to watch, to look. To want.
Peeling away the plaid material, she dropped it to the floor and ran her hands over her lace-trimmed cami. There was no bra beneath it and her nipples stood out plainly. His eyes followed her fingertips as she slid first one thin strap off her shoulder, then the other—
She never saw him move. In one heartbeat, she was standing, in the next, she was tangled on the floor with Connor. He peeled away the camisole as he mouthed her throat, running his tongue and teeth over her pulse. He devoured her breasts as he shucked her jeans. She nearly came as he clutched her ass hard, his big, work-roughened hands rasping deliciously against her skin. Connor was all raw need, hungry and wild, and Zoey urged him on, the wildness thrumming in her own veins as well. All conscious thought had fallen away and what was left was basic, primal—and urgent.
She wrapped her long legs around him, pulling him into her, chanting now with every breath. The unyielding floor should have been uncomfortable. Instead she reveled in the way it gave her leverage, allowed her to angle her hips upward in a way that buffered nothing and accepted everything. And everything was exactly what she wanted. Now turned to Yes as he thrust hard and drove deep, shocking the breath from her as her core exulted.
Yes. The rhythm pounded in her body, in her veins, in her mind.
Yes. Tension throbbed and built, roiled and grew rapidly to impossible heights. As burgeoning clouds before a thunderstorm yearn for the lightning, her body craved the explosive release even as she feared its intensity.
Yes. Yes. YES. She imploded on a stuttered gasp, just as Connor poured himself into her. For the longest of moments she was suspended in pure sensation, unseeing save for strange sparkles of blue light behind her eyes. And for one brief second she thought she heard the howl of a wolf.
Connor’s senses returned slowly. First was smell. The air was satisfyingly ripe with sex. Better still was a scent he had already memorized in every cell of his body. He pulled that scent deep into his lungs like a drowning man draws air, then released it with a soft growl. Woman scent. His woman. Zoey.
The candles had guttered out and twilight had given way to darkness, yet nothing was hidden from his Changeling vision. He could easily see the unique color of Zoey’s hair and the golden freckles that blanketed her skin, and he couldn’t be more pleased that, yes indeed, those freckles covered her shapely ass too. He’d have to make a point of counting—and kissing—every last one of them.
As his awareness expanded, there was warmth and softness along the length of his body where her skin pressed against his. Her head was pillowed on his shoulder. Closing his eyes again, he found it hard to tell where she left off and he began, as if they had melted into each other. Even their hearts beat together.
His heart was hers, permanently, and he knew it. It had been tipping and teetering since he met Zoey, but tonight his heart had just plain fallen off a cliff and might never reach bottom. That was all right with him. He could feel, too, the immense satisfaction of his inner wolf, content and peaceful now that it had found and claimed its mate at last.
Mate. He had a mate. He’d half given up hope of ever finding one. Wolves mated for life and so did Changelings. Changelings, however, lived longer than wolves, much longer than humans too. Because of that, relationships with humans were not formed lightly. There might be sex now and then with a willing partner, but the drive was infrequent. But all that changed when the inner wolf recognized its mate.
Connor nuzzled Zoey’s soft hair and sighed. He hadn’t intended to lose control. He’d been a more considerate lover behind the damn garden shed at the Watsons’ than he’d been tonight. Still, she’d surprised him by accepting the wildness he couldn’t contain, taking it in and giving back. And then some. He’d thought her passionate the night of the party. Now, he realized that term didn’t come close to describing her.
Still, passionate or not, Zoey probably wouldn’t be comfortable waking up on the kitchen floor in the dark. Connor gathered her closer to him and maneuvered until he could roll to his knees. She was a tall woman, curvy and solid. To his Changeling strength, however, she might as well have been a child, and he stood effortlessly without waking her. Instead of taking her to bed right away, however, he paused for a moment to wonder at the marvel in his arms. Two weeks ago he’d been alone and half expected to remain that way. Now he was skin to skin with this exciting woman, and she was his mate. It should feel strange at best, scary at worst, but instead it felt good, natural, even normal—as if she’d always been with him.
Connor crossed his fingers that Zoey felt the same as he carried her upstairs. I’ve got a helluva lot to tell her.
Connor banged his elbow twice as he tried to maneuver them both through the bedroom door, and Zoey couldn’t help giggling.
“You’re not asleep,” he chided.
“I confess. I just wanted to be carried,” she laughed. “It was pretty nice, too.”
“You didn’t seem to like it much when I carried you up to your apartment that first night.”
“That was completely different.”
She squealed as he tossed her into the middle of an enormous bed and pounced on her with mock growls and gentle bites. She tried to fend him off with both hands, squirming out from under him and finally making a break for the floor. He let her go—she knew darn well she had little hope of breaking free unless he permitted it—and she bounced over to the middle of the room.
And what a room. It was enormous, almost the whole of the second story. Zoey spotted a switch on the wall and flipped it, sucking in her breath at what the myriad of recessed lights revealed. Great ivory beams converged to a peak along the center of the high ceiling. A stone fireplace with a tall slender window on each side graced the east end of the room, but it was the west end that was particularly inspired. The entire wall, floor to ceiling, was made of windows.
She exhaled slowly as she let her gaze travel appreciatively over the decor. There was little in the way of furniture, but it was well chosen and natural colors prevailed. The enormous bed was near the center of the room, facing the wall of windows. It was simply framed in dark wood and dressed in rich earth-toned sheets and comforters. A glance around the broad headboard revealed a sittin
g area backed against it, opposite the fireplace. A sumptuous leather couch was made even more inviting by the dozen or so richly textured pillows scattered over its cushions and stacked on the thick furry rug in front of it. A half dozen books were comfortably piled on an end table. Zoey could easily picture herself relaxing in front of the fire on a cool evening with the latest paperback. Although, with a hot naked man in the house—like the one currently sprawled across the bed—she doubted she would get any reading done.
“This is really beautiful,” she breathed. “There’s a harmony here. No distractions. Nothing jars the eye. Everything is very functional, yet it’s warm and inviting at the same time. And there’s all this glorious space.”
“You like it.”
“Very much. Did you design this yourself? What am I saying, of course you did, just like you did the downstairs. What a wonderful sanctuary.”
“That’s the right word,” he said. “Everyone needs a refuge at the end of the day. I like open space, and I like comfort, plus I love to look at the sky. This is the next best thing to sleeping under the stars.”
“Better. There are no wolves.”
He made an odd choking sound and had to clear his throat. “Well, not every night.”
She laughed at that and switched off the lights, standing still until her eyes adjusted. “It’s even beautiful in the dark.”
It was. The pale beams were silvery and the rising moon cast the faintest of light into the eastern windows. It pooled on the dark floor like water.
“Come see the outside.” Connor rose from the bed and extended a hand, leading her to a door in the glassed wall and out onto a wide deck. Treetops framed it on each side but nothing obscured the view of the hills in the distance or the glistening river. “The stars are just coming out.”
Zoey looked up at the night sky in wonder. Connor was right. New stars seemed to appear even as she watched. A cool breeze reminded her that she was stark naked and yet it felt like the most natural thing in the world to be standing outside beneath the stars. With Connor. She nestled back against him comfortably, grateful for his intense body heat, for his powerful arms wrapped around her. Safe and warm. Maybe not so safe. . . . She grinned as she felt his erection nudging at her hip. She stroked it softly with her fingertips, felt it rise and bump her hand as if asking for more. She slid her hand along the fiery length of it and gripped it hard. Connor was a large and powerful man—but it satisfied her tremendously to feel the tremor that passed through him from her touch. To her surprise he removed himself from her grasp, turned her to face him and held her at arm’s to length.
“God, baby, don’t do that just yet or I’ll lose my mind again.” He grasped one of her hands and held it to his lips, kissed each fingertip gently. “I was too rough with you before. I didn’t mean to be.”
“Maybe I liked it.”
“Only maybe?”
She made a grab for him but he eluded her easily. “No fair! Your arms are longer.” Before she could blink, she was wrapped up tight against him.
“Can you reach me now?” he grinned.
“Much better,” she laughed and wriggled, rubbing her breasts against his hard chest, rocking her pelvis against his powerful thigh. She was gratified to hear the hiss of breath drawn in through his teeth. Without warning, he scooped her up. She didn’t have time to protest before they were through the door—and no elbows were banged this time—with Connor striding across the room. To her surprise he bypassed the bed and set her feet on the deliciously soft rug in front of the couch.
“Sit down,” he whispered.
She sat a little gingerly, expecting the leather to be cold. Instead its buttery soft surface warmed immediately to her skin and she relaxed back. Connor knelt and lightly stroked his strong hands over her, ankle to thigh, fingertips to shoulders. His great strength was leashed, his touch tender as he traced tiny circles and swirls over almost every square inch of her. And the almost was driving her crazy. Calves and belly, collarbone and ribs. Places that seldom received much attention were extravagantly fondled, traced, and teased. Zoey squirmed, craving Connor’s touch and yet it left such heightened sensitivity in its wake that her skin felt electrified. Her breasts were aching, her nipples straining, begging to be kissed. Yet Connor ignored their call, simply continuing to stroke the unsung parts of her body with his fingertips. Zoey could feel the moisture pooling between her legs and yet he didn’t touch her there either. She was buzzing with sensation, her body taut and yearning.
“Turn around,” he whispered and her core clenched hard. It was all she could do to move as he guided her into position, knees on the seat of the couch, her arms resting on its back. Oh God, oh God. She jumped as he ran his hands gently over her hips, the roughness of his palms rasping lightly over her back, her shoulders. Soothing and igniting at the same time, delicious torture. She trembled as he stroked the back of her thighs, still drawing endless patterns upon her. She was wet for him, so wet that a droplet of moisture trickled down her inner thigh with the same painstaking slowness as Connor’s caresses. She wanted him to take her, needed him, she was so damn ready for him. . . .
All of her senses were startled as he kissed her ankle. A single hot, openmouthed kiss, followed by a light swirl of tongue. She shivered as he breathed over the spot and planted another kiss on the other ankle, then eased her legs apart. She trembled as he kissed his way slowly up her left leg, taking his time until she was sure she would scream. She did cry out as he kissed her right leg, above and below the bandages, but it certainly wasn’t from pain. Eventually he lapped up the little droplet of moisture on her inner thigh, and the ones that had followed it. Closer, closer. . . . His hot mouth kissed its way over her cheeks, adding soft gentle bites. She was shaking, she couldn’t help it, and she was on the verge of begging when his big hands suddenly parted her and his hot wet tongue slicked over her in one long stroke from clit to tailbone.
The orgasm slammed into her with all the force of a tsunami, and she might have been knocked from the couch by the intense wave, except that Connor held her securely, his big hands cupped around her hips. As her body throbbed and pulsed, he breathed over her folds and began lapping at them again, penetrating them with his tongue, licking around her swollen pearl until she came a second time.
The pleasure was nothing short of devastating. Finally he stood behind her, using the head of his cock like a giant’s finger to stroke the length of her crease. Breathless, Zoey managed to call Connor’s name. It was both a plea and a summons, and he answered it, sliding smoothly into her until he had filled her completely. To her surprise, he stopped, holding himself there in perfect stillness. For an instant she savored his size, the incredible heat that radiated from him inside her. So big. So hot. And then some primal instinct erupted and she thrust her hips wildly, impaling herself gladly and still unable to get enough. She nearly wept with relief when he pulled her from the couch and flipped her over on the plush rug, plunged into her deep and hard. Faster and faster. She dug her fingernails into the muscles of his butt, needing to pull him into her even further, needing to be in one skin.
They imploded together, and it was as if they had leapt from the balcony. Zoey felt airborne, ethereal—and inextricably blended with Connor like twining breezes among the stars. She drew a great shuddering breath and the physical world returned. Connor was half-draped over her, sheltering her, warming her, the weight of him a secure blanket. She planted a kiss on his chest where his heart pounded in rhythm with hers, and received a warm kiss on her forehead in return. Sighing, she closed her eyes and allowed sleep to take her.
Instead, a dream took her over.
In it, Zoey wandered to the balcony. The bright stars seemed to direct her to the stairs and she followed them down to the yard. But it was not Connor’s farmyard. There were few trees here, and the buildings were painted dark, perhaps red. It was hard to tell when the light of the waning half-moon washed away all color. Clumps of brush and wild grass dotted the
yard and surrounded a small house with a swayback roof. The open windows emitted the sound of a television cranked up as loud as it would go. The owner must be deaf or nearly so—
Zoey spun as frantic bawling erupted from a nearby corral. Cattle stamped and ran, their flanks heaving. Several bashed into the wooden rails of the fence, knocking it down. A dozen cows poured through the break, stampeding wildly into the night. And close on their heels was her own worst nightmare, the grizzled gray wolf. Soundlessly it followed the cattle, slashing at their flanks with gleaming teeth. Finally, it singled one out and leapt for its throat, bringing the big animal down as easily as a lamb. Terrified, Zoey pressed herself behind the wall of a shed, watching in horror as the enormous wolf gave chase and pulled down each of the cows in turn until all lay dead or twitching on the ground.
The sound of the television stopped abruptly, leaving an eerie stillness in its wake. A porch light came on and a man emerged from the house, silhouetted in the doorway long enough for Zoey to see that he had a gun. Slowly, cautiously, he stepped down into the yard, looking this way and that. As the moonlight illuminated his face, Zoey was certain that she had seen him before, but she didn’t know his name.
Suddenly he spotted the broken fence of the corral and ran to it, yelling. He swore at the dead cattle inside, then looked wildly around for the rest of his animals. “Dammit!” he yelled again as he spotted dark heaps scattered around the farmyard. “Goddammit to fucking hell!” He fired his gun into the air, the shot a punctuation mark to his frustration and anger. He kicked at a dead cow and turned away—
Almost right in front of him, the enormous wolf rose from a clump of tall grass like a lion on a savannah. Its tongue lolled from wide grinning jaws.
Frightened, the man backpedaled and stumbled. He struggled with his gun, trying to bring it to bear as the wolf walked stiff-legged around him. He fired off a shot but missed. The wolf leapt and snapped at his leg, the empty ring of its jaws sending a shiver down Zoey’s spine. The gun fell to the ground as the man crab-walked backward, then turned and ran for his life.
