He didn’t say the word love aloud, even though it was there in the back of his mind, a whisper that wouldn’t be denied. And love was such a weak word to describe the cauldron of emotions that churned in his guts. He wanted her. Of that there was no doubt. But it was so more than that.
Armand wanted to know everything about Anny, what made her laugh and cry, what her favorite foods were, her hobbies, her taste in music and movies. He wanted to spend time with her, show her the joys of being a werewolf.
What if she couldn’t shift into a wolf?
That was a worry, but in the end it didn’t matter to him. She was still his Anny. His. The word had a wonderful ring to it.
She sighed and moved restlessly against the covers. He put aside all thoughts of tomorrow for now. Anny was here, in this bed, and he planned to make the most of the situation.
He traced his fingers over her forehead, down the slope of her nose, over her high cheekbones and across her stubborn chin. All the while, she watched him, her blue-eyed gaze never leaving his face.
He lowered his mouth toward hers. Her lips parted and she sighed his name. He brushed her lower lip, letting his tongue tease it. She made a slight murmur of discontent and he deepened the caress.
Her taste flooded into him. Oh, how he’d missed her. He hadn’t even admitted to himself just how much. Heat, with a hint of the chocolate she’d had earlier, exploded on his taste buds. Her tongue stroked his and his entire body tightened.
She placed her hands on his chest and, even through the fabric of his shirt, he felt branded by her touch. Such small hands, but strong enough to stop him in his tracks. He didn’t think she understood the power she had over him, and part of him hoped she never truly did. She was his weakness, one that could be exploited by his enemies.
She was also his strength, because there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do to protect her.
He broke away from her lush lips and peppered kisses up her jawline. Anny sucked in a deep breath. Armand continued his exploration, tracing the whorls of her ear with his tongue before nipping at the lobe with his teeth. She moaned and arched her neck.
He smiled and tugged on the small gold hoop in her ear.
She moved restlessly beneath him. “Armand.”
He closed his eyes and struggled for a modicum of control. It would be so easy to strip Anny naked, roll her onto her stomach and cover her much smaller body with his own.
She would be wet and warm. He could smell her growing arousal and his balls tightened. Oh yeah, his cock would slide right into her pussy. She’d grip him hard, squeezing him until he couldn’t hold out any longer.
His cock throbbed in agreement, the ache settling him enough so he didn’t come right there and then. He’d missed Anny, dreamed of her every night since he’d left her. But this was no dream, no midnight fantasy. This was a flesh-and-blood woman.
“Anny.” He had no words. None that she would believe at this point. So he went with action instead.
He carefully slid the hem of her shirt over her body, being cautious of her injuries. She raised her arms and helped him remove it. Clad only in a pair of white panties and a matching bra, Anny was a delight for the senses. Her slender limbs were pale. Her narrow torso marred by scars.
Armand leaned down and pressed his mouth to one of the reddish scars. “I’m so sorry.” She tangled her fingers in his hair and lifted his head.
“It’s not your fault. Your father did this to me, not you.”
That she would forgive him so easily almost unmanned him. Tears pricked his eyes and he swallowed the lump of emotion that threatened to choke him. “It is my fault.”
Nothing she could say could change the fact that if he hadn’t approached her in the first place, Remy LaForge would have had no reason to attack her.
Armand kissed the scars on her belly. Most would fade over time, but there were one or two that looked as though they might not. And then there were the ones on her neck. The thought of her wearing the marks of his father’s attack for the rest of her life made him want to howl with fury.
The wolf wanted revenge for the harm done to his mate. So did the man, but the man was smart enough to put that away for another day. Anny was here with him now. A gift he planned to take full advantage of.
He traced one finger over the edge of the fabric covering her breasts. It was plain cotton, but he’d never seen anything sexier. Her breasts were nicely shaped and delicate, like Anny.
Armand almost snorted. She was delicate, but she was also strong. Maybe stronger than anyone he knew. He still couldn’t wrap his head around the fact she’d survived a werewolf bite on her own.
It shamed and hurt him that he hadn’t been there for her when she’d needed him.
“Armand? What’s wrong?”
He shook his head. “Not a damn thing.” Armand rubbed his thumbs over the thin fabric, feeling the hard pebble of her nipples beneath. She sucked in her breath and said his name again, this time with passion.
The bra was in his way. He wanted to feel the velvety softness of her skin against his. He eased the straps down her arms, exposing her breasts. “Beautiful.”
“They’re not very big.” He could hear the insecurity in her voice, see it in her eyes, and it angered him.
“Exquisite.” He plumped the mounds in his hands and stroked his thumbs over the taut nipples. “See how they respond to my touch.”
Anny arched her back, pushing her breasts closer.
“That’s it, ma petite.” Give yourself to me. Because that was what he wanted. Anny’s complete surrender to him.
He undid the closure and removed the garment. Anny shivered and he frowned. “Are you cold?” She should be able to regulate her body temperature better now that she’d been through the conversion.
She shook her head. “No, I’m not cold.”
A slow grin crossed his face. “You’re aroused.” He tweaked one of her nipples between his thumb and forefinger, drawing a moan from her. “You’re perfection.”
He cupped her chin in his hand and stared into her eyes. They held passion, but pain too. He wanted to take all the horrors of the past away, but knew he couldn’t. The fading gashes on her neck were a reminder of all she’d been through. They would never fully fade.
“Are you sure you want this?” He rubbed his thumb over her cheek. “Once I take you, I’ll never let you go.”
Anny didn’t know whether to be utterly thrilled or scared to death by his pronouncement. It wasn’t exactly a declaration of love, but she wouldn’t have believed him if he’d told her he loved her. It was too soon.
But she could believe he wanted her. And that sent a river of heat snaking through her body. It flowed to the tips of her fingers and toes and pooled between her thighs as well, making her pussy ache.
Armand sat beside her on the bed, his big body radiating heat and something more—passion. She could easily lose herself in his dark eyes. He looked rough and tough with the scars marring his face and the stubble covering his chin. She was almost naked while he was fully dressed. He loomed over her, so much larger and stronger than she was.
She covered his hand on her face with her own. “I’m sure.” She had no idea what tomorrow would bring, but right now she wanted Armand with a need that went much deeper than the physical.
Anny smiled, wanting to lighten the mood. “You’re wearing way too much clothes.”
He didn’t smile, but his expression lightened, becoming less strained. “I can remedy that.” Armand ripped his shirt over his head and tossed it aside.
Anny sucked in a breath. She thought she’d remembered Armand from their night together, but the reality of him was so much better than memories and fantasies. She placed her hands on his chest, sliding her fingers through the crisp chest hair to find his flat nipples.
His entire body tightened when she touched him. The muscles of his arms and chest looked as though they were carved by the hands of a master sculptor. She’d never seen anyone like
Armand.
She ran her hands down over his taut abs, following the thin line of hair all the way to the waistband of his jeans.
“Anny.” The way he said her name made her toes curl. He leaned down and pressed his lips against hers. She opened to him and he thrust his tongue into her mouth. Oh, he tasted divine. Like strong coffee and hot male. Addictive.
She threaded her fingers through his hair, loving the way the thick strands caressed her skin. The kiss deepened and Armand’s gentleness was replaced with a sense of urgency that fired her own.
Anny kissed him back, twining her tongue with his, holding nothing back. Breath caught in her lungs and she dug her fingernails into his shoulders. His mouth became more insistent. Their teeth clinked together. There was no finesse, just honest need.
And that was the greatest aphrodisiac of all.
When he finally pulled back, they were both gasping as though they’d run a mile full out. Armand’s fingers grazed her face, his touch so gentle it brought tears to her eyes. The way he looked at her made her forget any reservations she might have.
She might not be certain where she fit into his life, if at all, but there was no doubt he wanted her.
Armand rolled off the mattress and stood next to the bed. He unbuttoned and then lowered the zipper of his jeans. She licked her lips, her body humming with anticipation.
He didn’t make her wait. He shoved the jeans down his lean hips and his cock jumped free. Armand wasn’t wearing any underwear.
And how sexy was that?
When he was naked, he placed one knee on the mattress beside her and reached for the waistband of her panties. Anny lifted her hips. Slowly, almost reverently, he peeled the flimsy garment away, leaving her totally naked.
He sucked in a deep breath. “Even better than I remembered.” He leaned down and inhaled deeply. “I can smell your arousal. Hot and sweet and spicy. Do you have any idea what that does to me?” He nuzzled the hair on her mound. “It makes me hot as hell.”
It was making her pretty damn hot too. Her earlier exhaustion had fled, replaced by a gnawing need for this man. Anny knew there would never be anyone else for her. She had no idea what the future held, but she didn’t care. For once, she was going to grab what she wanted and worry about the consequences later.
She ignored the little voice in the back of her head that reminded her that attitude was what got her into this mess in the first place. She was beyond caring.
Anny had changed in so many ways since the night she’d met Armand. Physically she was different. She could smell the woodsy scent of his skin, the musk of his arousal. It filled her nostrils and fired her sexual hunger. He was a visual feast with his taut, tanned skin and firm muscles. His every groan was intensified.
She felt alive in a way she never had before.
She reached for him, but he captured her hands and held them over her head. “No, chère. I want you too much. If you touch me, I’m done.” A muscle jumped in his jaw. “Let me love you.”
She stilled and an ache grew in her heart. She knew it was just a figure of speech, but oh how she wanted it to be true. He released her hands and straddled her, his cock jutting up proudly from the nest of curls at his groin. When he leaned forward, his shaft pressed against her stomach. It was hard and hot and pulsing with life.
He kissed the wound at her neck, laving the healing scars with his tongue. Silky strands of his hair brushed against her skin and sent shivers down her spine. Desire flowed through her like warm honey, melting away all doubts and fears.
Anny relaxed and gave herself over to Armand.
Chapter Thirteen
Armand knew the second she stopped thinking and gave in to the moment. The subtle way her entire body seemed to sink into the mattress and the little sigh of release warmed his heart and fired his blood.
Anny was his.
She might not have come to terms with it yet, but she would. He’d make sure of it. Because failure was not an option. Armand had come to the realization that a life without Anny was no life at all.
She’d been hurt and injured. Now he wanted to take away all her pain and replace it with pleasure. His cock throbbed against her soft stomach, his balls so tight they hurt, but he ignored his own discomfort. This was all about Anny, about bringing her pleasure.
He cupped her breasts, weighing them in his hands. The hard tips pushed against his palms. “Tell me what you want, Anny?” He circled the taut nubs with the tips of his forefingers. They grew even more rigid beneath his touch.
“You.” It was a bare whisper, a puff of breath. “You.”
Armand leaned down and circled her nipple with his tongue. She speared her fingers into his hair and pulled him closer. He loved the slight sting and the pressure, the demand beneath it. He lashed the bud with his tongue before drawing it into his mouth. He sucked hard, drawing a deep moan from her.
Anny’s scent deepened, growing stronger. She was more than ready to take him, but he wasn’t anywhere near ready. Not yet.
He eased one knee between her legs and then another, making room for himself between them. He sat back on his heels between her spread thighs and let his hands wander down her torso, tracking the dip of her waist, the subtle curve of her hips.
The scars from her attack were an abomination against her pale flesh. He licked and kissed each one in turn. Regret threatened to choke him, but he was determined not to allow his father to destroy this moment.
He dipped his tongue into her navel, drawing a sultry laugh. Anny was ticklish. He smiled and did it again. She jerked, giving a small shriek when he nipped at her hipbone.
The tip of his cock nudged her calf and he groaned. Liquid leaked from the tip, dampening her skin, reminding him just how close to the edge he was.
He moved lower, kissed the inside of one knee and then the other before lying flat on the bed. The skin between her thighs was soft and silky. He ran his fingers over it, working his way closer to his goal.
Anny sighed and squirmed beneath his touch. He caught another whiff of her arousal and kissed a path up her inner leg. Pink and wet, she welcomed him. He licked at the folds of her labia, absorbing every moan, every little sound of pleasure she made. He circled her clit with the tip of his tongue, lashing the small bud briefly before capturing it with his lips and sucking on it.
She went wild beneath him, hips bucking, hands clenching at his shoulders. “Armand.” There was a demand in her voice, one he couldn’t wait to fulfill.
“What do you want?” He wanted her to say it again.
“You.”
Back arched, breath coming in short, hard pants, Anny was exquisite. Her lips were parted, her eyes closed.
“Look at me,” he demanded. He wanted no doubts in her mind, needed to see the passion in her eyes.
She opened them and stared at him. Then she licked her soft lips.
“Watch me. Watch me make you come.” He flicked his tongue over her clit, drawing another moan from her, this one deep and guttural. He inserted one thick finger into her opening and met with wet warmth. His cock throbbed against the mattress.
He pushed his finger deep and, at the same time, sucked on her clit. Anny cried out and he felt her wetness surround his finger. Her inner muscles gripped the digit tight.
Armand’s control snapped. He surged upward, hooked his arms beneath Anny’s legs and spread them wide. The head of his cock nudged against her pussy. He wanted to take it slow, to take his time, but time had run out.
Supporting his weight on his hands, he surged deep with one thrust. He gritted his teeth, afraid he’d come too soon. Her pussy milked him hard, the spasms from her orgasm gripping him, her wet warmth surrounding him.
Too good.
Armand muttered a curse and began to thrust. There was no finesse, no style, just pure need. He rutted on her like a male wolf on a bitch in heat. Sweat beaded on his temple as his hips flexed and his cock plunged deep. “Anny.” He called her name, just needing to say it.
Armand’s strength abandoned him and his hands gave way. He buried his face against Anny’s neck, his lungs and heart both racing. His shaft was swollen at the base, locking him inside her. He didn’t ever want to leave.
Small, soft hands brushed through his hair and down his shoulders. Armand sighed, completely content. He could hear Anny’s heart thundering like his own. Hear the sharp inhalations of her breath.
He raised his head and met her gaze. Several strands of hair stuck to her forehead and he brushed them aside. “There’s no going back,” he told her.
He caught the worry in her eyes and frowned. He’d warned her and there was no way he was letting her walk away from him now. Not only was she in danger, she was his mate, his to protect. He knew he had to take things slowly or he ran the risk of her running from him.
It was still a tight fit, but he managed to ease his cock from her body. They both groaned at the separation. He stretched out beside her and propped his head on one hand. The other hand he used to stroke her body, to stroke her dewy skin.
Neither of them spoke, but he sensed Anny didn’t want to talk. Not now. She needed something else from him, something more elemental. His cock stirred and he grinned. That was one advantage he had over a human male—fast recovery time. A werewolf male could go all night long.
“How about a hot bath?” She had to be sore from her ordeal and from what they’d just done. He had to keep reminding himself she was still fragile, still recovering.
She licked her lips. “That would be nice.” He leaned down and kissed her, unable to resist the lure of her lush mouth.
Armand pushed out of bed and strode the attached bathroom. He flicked on the overhead light and started the water running in the large tub. He was glad now he’d opted to have both a bath and shower instead of just a big-ass shower stall.
Wolf in Her Bed: Salvation Pack, Book 2 Page 13
