by Terry Spear
Page 41
She was drawn to his strength and his pride, the way he took care of his people, the way he took care of her.
In that instant, she realized just how much she wanted him, to belong with a pack, to be part of his family, and the question begged to be answered. Had her grandfather set her up? Had he known what she hadn’t realized herself, that she needed more than just her grandfather and father in her life, more than flitting relationships like she’d had with her former boyfriend? A wolf who could share her dreams and offer her new ones? A pack and all that went along with being part of one? The time to reconnect with her Scottish roots?
Ian’s hands slid down her arms in a soothing touch, his darkened gaze on her face, waiting for her response. If she said one last time that she couldn’t commit to him unless he loved her, truly said he loved her, would he shun her?
But she was certain he loved her, even if he couldn’t say so. She couldn’t stand the idea of returning home without him. And the wonderful thing about her chosen career? She could live anywhere and dream up romantic worlds wherever she made her home.
“All right,” she said, meaning to sound firm and resolute, but her words came out breathy instead.
A small flicker of a smile lightened his dark, worried expression. Then he slanted his mouth over hers and kissed her, caressing his lips against hers, pressing harder. Her fingers clung to his waist. He parted her lips with his tongue as his hands gripped her arms right above the elbow.
He groaned a sexy, husky sound that made her shiver with sweet realization. He desperately wanted her like she wanted him.
His hands shifted to her waist, roaming lower to her hips, his fingertips lightly touching her buttocks. She mimicked his actions, and his mouth curved upward against hers. “Siren,” he rasped out.
His hands encircled her flesh and squeezed, and she did the same to him, felt his hard buttocks, when hers were so much softer, less firm.
He moaned with sensual approval and pulled her up tight against his hardening body. Her breasts swelled, her nipples tingled, and her woman’s inner core throbbed with excruciatingly desperate need.
But she wouldn’t beg him to finish her off despite feeling she’d die in sweet anticipation. She wouldn’t rush their joining like she was dying to do. She could tell by his controlled and rigid expression that he attempted to take this slow and easy even if it killed him.
He cupped her buttocks and lifted until she wrapped her legs around him, opening herself to him before he carried her to the bed.
Then she was on her back, and he was between her legs. He separated her legs with his probing fingers, his thumbs stroking her nub, his mouth on hers again, sizzling, caressing, insistent.
Her blood was so hot that she felt feverish, her heart pounding as if she were running with the wolf, her body slick and wet and aching for completion.
His lips possessed hers completely, his tilted slightly for better access, his tongue pressing into her mouth, sweet, warm, and erotic. Her tongue teased his back, her hands sliding from his waist to cup the back of his head, to glory in the feel of his mouth on hers. He was attuned to her as she was to him. As if they were meant to be from the beginning of time. He felt right. They felt right. This felt so right.
His fingers plied wickedly pleasurable strokes between her thighs, and she couldn’t hold off the impending climax. The sensation lifted her higher and higher to a point of no return when he pushed his fingers between her swollen cleft, and the climax struck with a tidal wave of bliss. Without waiting for her to descend back to earth, he prodded her with his thick erection and nudged her entrance, pushing gently inside. Stretching her, he allowed her to accommodate his size until he was deeply entrenched.
Then he began to pull out slowly, his burning, hooded gaze on hers, watching her reaction. She raised her knees, allowing him deeper access, and he took advantage, thrusting—plundering her, pleasuring her, possessing her.
She arched against him, feeling the heat, the pressure, the tension and hardness, the love—yes, even if he couldn’t say it—the love between them growing, expanding, and morphing into something decadent, delicious, and even dutiful.
She shuddered as another climax hit her.
“Julia,” he said, his voice a hiss, a groan, a declaration.
He dipped his head and took her mouth, his hard, taut body sinking against hers, his hands gripping her face, his eyes closed as he kissed her deeply and thoroughly. Then he lifted his mouth away from hers and gave her a quirky kind of smile. “I will have to learn to cook if we keep missing the regular mealtimes. Unless you know how to cook. ”
She raised her arms and folded her hands beneath her neck. “Ah, now the truth comes out. You wanted me for afternoon delight and to cook your meals when you miss them. ”
He gave her one of his roguish grins and leaned down to suckle a breast. “How could I have found such a canny wolf right in my very own backyard?”
“I knew there were strings attached. ” But then she gave into the erotic feel of his tongue and heated breath on her nipple and groaned. “We may just have to starve, my Highland hero. ” She wrapped her legs around his, her heels bumping against his buttocks at the juncture of his thighs.
And he growled with a sound that made her think he’d lost the battle. Sex or food?
Sex, she surmised as his fingers worked miracles on her nipple and his mouth did wondrous fluttery things to the other. Before she knew it, he was bringing her to climax all over again, and then somehow, she managed to slip a leg between his, and rest her head against his chest, while he wrapped his arms around her. And slept. Briefly.
***
Losh, the lass made him lose all self-control with the way her engaging body was flushed and willing and offered to him like the ultimate sexual feast. Even now as he woke from a long nap, he wanted her as if she’d awakened some primal need in him that had never seen the light of day before.
He tried not to think of what his brothers would say as he missed yet another pack meal. At this rate, he’d have to hire another cook just to provide room service. In ye old days, the laird could have his meals served in his bedchamber anytime he wished. But he had never subscribed to having the kitchen staff overworked in that manner to satisfy some selfish whim. One mealtime, three times a day. For everyone. If anyone wanted a snack at some other time during the day, they were welcome to fix it themselves.
But he was rethinking his position. If nothing else, he couldn’t have Julia missing all her meals. He sighed. The trouble was that spontaneity was half the pleasure of having sex with her, and trying to regulate it to coincide with mealtimes wasn’t going to happen.
He looked into her sleeping face, a glow still there from their bouts of making love. He should let her be, let her sleep, but she was just too damned enticing. And very willing, her insatiable urges just as compelling as his own.
He turned her hips away from him, her back still flat against the mattress, her breasts exposed, her face turned away in the same direction as her hips. Then he pushed her upper leg higher and touched her between her legs from the back. He pressed into her silky wet sheath with his fingers, and she stirred, moaned, and moved her leg higher, prompting him to continue, her mouth curving up, although her eyes remained shut.
She was tired but willing, giving him permission to proceed, to take his pleasure in her ripe folds again. He penetrated her tight, slippery sheath with his stiffened erection and pumped against her bare, rounded arse, the feel of her soft buttocks pounding against his groin and quickening his desire. She stirred with a humming sound of pleasure as his hands slipped around her, claiming her sensual nub, stroking, and caressing. Her moans budded with her arousal, her feminine sweets swelling and growing more sensitive to his touch. By the way she moved against him, he knew the stimulating sensation was making her crave completion, and she ground against him wanting it, wanting him. God, she was beauti
ful and sexy and his.
“Ah, Ian,” she said on a breathless groan.
And he came again, her body milking him, hot and shuddering around his arousal with a tight grip. “Julia,” he muttered into her hair, his hand on her breast, feeling the swollen mound in the palm of his hand, the nipple erect and mouthwatering. Mine, he wanted to say, but instead he gathered her up in his arms and held on tight, the words not needed.
But in the back of his mind, he knew that trouble was brewing—Sutherland was bound to cause more difficulties soon. And now it wasn’t just Ian and his people he was targeting, but also Ian’s mate.
Chapter 19
Julia smiled to see Ian sleeping soundly beside her in his bed and sighed. If she didn’t get out of bed, she’d be here forever, she figured, between his unappeasable hunger and her own.
Trying not to jiggle the mattress, she slipped off it and headed for her bag, grabbed a change of clothes, and then stalked into the bathroom to shower and dress. She had to speak to Maria about all that had gone on, and she supposed she should tell her she was now a mated wolf, if her friend hadn’t already guessed where this had been heading.
Thankfully, when Julia left the bathroom, Ian was still dead to the world. She hurried out of the bedchamber before he could catch her, stop her, and change her mind. Which, given the way she felt toward him, would not be difficult for him to do.
As she walked down the stairs, she could hear the noisy business of the film crew doing what they had to do in the inner bailey while she smelled the delightful aroma of baked bread and sausages wafting through the place. Her stomach grumbled. She’d have to look for Maria, after she got a bite to eat. If Ian caught her, no telling when she’d get to eat again.
When she reached the great hall, Cearnach was seated in the sitting area, carving on a dagger handle. His attention quickly shifted to her, and she froze. She wasn’t afraid of him, but she felt like an intruder all of a sudden. And the business of his thinking she’d been Sutherland’s lover still grated on her, no matter that she tried to tell herself it didn’t matter.
She’d noted before that he was always cheerful, but not now. While she saw him carving his handle, he’d been thoughtful. But now that he was watching her, he frowned, and then looked past her to the stairs. She turned that way, expecting Ian to have caught up to her already, half figuring he’d drag her back upstairs before she had a chance to eat or speak with Maria.
