Lycan Heat

Chapter Eight

She’d been standing in front of the door staring at it for at least twenty minutes now. She didn’t want to go back out there with Piers. She’d taken as long as humanly possible showering, washing her underwear out, drying her hair, and putting her clothes back on. She’d contemplated washing them out too, but didn’t think it was a good idea to go traipsing around in front of him with only a towel. If she had the same impact on him he’d had on her in just a towel, there would be trouble—fireworks shooting off, screaming for mercy, hot sex kind of trouble.

Just the thought of his hard body on display for her made her pulse race.

She could imagine how delicious he would feel against her, skin to skin, mouth to mouth. Her cheeks turned hot. What was wrong with her? Why did he have such an effect on her?

He scared her. He intrigued her. He made her feel things she didn’t understand. He unsettled her, but…she kind of liked it. His predatory swagger called to her, mocked her with the promise of the pleasure she instinctively knew he could bring her. And his hands...she closed her eyes and swallowed hard. His big hands had been gentle, had known exactly how to caress her. He made her burn.

She took a deep breath and yanked the door open with more force than she’d intended. She found him sitting on the edge of the bed eating a miniature bag of cookies. She’d thought the bed to be fairly big until now.

With him on it, it looked pretty small. She was thankful he’d pulled his jeans back on, although they sat almost as low as the towel had on his hips, and he’d left the top button undone.

“There is some food on the table by the window. It’s not much. Vending machine crap, but it’s all I could find. Better than nothing.” He tipped the bag of cookies up to his mouth and tapped the rest of the crumbs from the bottom.

“Thanks.” She was hungry. She walked to the table where several bags of chips, cookies, crackers, candy bars and four cans of soda were scattered about. She opened a soda, set it back down after taking a long drink, and opened a pack of peanut butter crackers. She was hungrier that she thought and finished one pack and part of another before drinking the rest of the soda.

She looked over at the chair in the corner and made her way toward it, but he caught her wrist as she tried to pass him.

“No.”

“I’m not sleeping in that bed with you.” She tried to pull free, but he held her firmly.

“Why not?” One dark brow quirked up.

“You know why.” She wanted to stomp her foot like a small, furious child.

He tugged her slowly toward him until she was standing between his knees. His legs closed around her thighs and imprisoned her while he skimmed the back of his fingers up her neck and cupped her cheek. She was eye level with him now that he was sitting, and his intense gaze burned through her as if he could see into her soul.

“Yes. I know why, but I’m too big to sleep on that tiny chair, and you aren’t going to.”

When she started to protest, he placed one long finger over her lips.

“How about I make you a deal? Hmm? I won’t touch you unless you ask me to.”

She wasn’t sure that was a good idea either as she didn’t trust herself around him. Even now, standing this close to him, that’s exactly what she wanted him to do—touch her. Her doubt must have shown clearly on her face.

“I’ll sleep on the damn floor then.” He released her and stood.

“No.” When he reached for a pillow, she placed her hand on his shoulder. “That’s not fair. I don’t want you to sleep on the floor.” She could be an adult about this. “I’ll sleep under the covers and you can sleep on top, and stay on your side.”

His predatory smile, which flashed her a good amount of even, white teeth did little to soothe her worries. She snuggled under the covers and he lay in the bed beside her. His shoulders were so wide he was nearly touching her. She slid a surreptitious glance his way, and the sight of him made her lungs struggle to drag in breaths. She’d made a big mistake by letting him sleep beside her.

He was stretched out on his back, his feet dangling off the end of the bed, and his fingers linked behind his head. He was massive, and the heat that radiated off his skin sank into her body invitingly. She could imagine how nice it would be to cuddle up against all that warmth.

“If you don’t stop looking at me like that, I might forget my promise.”

He turned his head and met her stare. “Or do you want me to forget my promise?”

She gasped and rolled on her side away from him. She was furious when he chuckled, wanted to smack that grin right off his gorgeous face. Instead, she practiced some deep breathing exercises until she fell asleep.

She ran her fingers along his side, down his ribs where she examined each and every one before continuing to his stomach where she treated each muscle there with the same thorough exploration. He knew this was a dream, but damned if he wanted to wake up from it. Her touch drove him wild, and he wanted to lick and kiss every inch of her.

Her green eyes were fixed on him as she continued traversing his body, treating it like her own personal playground. Her small teeth worked her bottom lip, and he ached to kiss her, but didn’t want to do anything to discourage her perusal of him. He wanted her to touch him, to feel comfortable that he would not do anything she wasn’t ready for. But, God, she was stretching his control.

When she touched him, his heart pounded, his chest ached, and everything in him demanded he claim her. She made him feel alive again, made some of the darkness he’d let engulf him over the years disappear. He’d seen so much sorrow, so many of his race needlessly killed because they’d gone rogue. Lycans were dangerously dwindling in numbers, and he feared they were fighting a losing battle trying to reign them in.

He already loved Sherry, but he wasn’t sure she’d believe him. It was too soon to make such declarations of undying devotion. Nevertheless, it was true, and would remain so until the day death came for him.

Her tiny fingers traveled dangerously close to the top of his jeans and he groaned.

“Please. You’re killing me. I need to touch you.” He barely got the words through his clenched teeth.

She smiled up at him and shook her head. Her silky hair bounced over her shoulders.

“You promised, Piers.”

“Yes. I did, but I’m no saint, Sherry.”

“You won’t renege on your word.” She hesitated for a moment before sitting up on her knees beside him.

She bent and placed her lips against his. He bunched the blanket he was lying on in his fists, praying he was able to keep his word and keep his hands to himself. Why did he have to be such a noble bastard? She nibbled at him, and he yearned to taste her. Just when he thought she’d deny him, she slipped the tip of her tongue between his lips. He greedily met her tongue with his, and when she gasped, he unashamedly took advantage of the situation and deepened the kiss.

She supported herself with a hand on each of his shoulders, but he barely noticed her weight and wished she’d press her lush breasts against his chest. Her nipples were hard, and he’d bet they were as pink as her T-shirt. He ached to cup her in his hands, but vowed to keep his promise to her even if it killed him, and it might. When she finally rubbed the turgid tips against him, his heart stuttered and the sheer ecstasy of the intimate contact sent a shudder through him.

If he didn’t stop her soon, he would break his promise. The need to touch her burned through him with such urgency, he shook with the effort it took to keep his hands off her.

He reluctantly broke the kiss.

“Sherry.” When she ignored him and continued to caress his body, he spoke louder.

“Sherry.”

“Yes?” Her eyes locked on his.

“Either tell me I can touch you, or kill me now. I can’t take any more.” Her tinkle of laughter in response settled low in his groin, and his cock grew impossibly hard and throbbed.

She bent and touched the tip of her tongue to his nipple, and he nearly came on the spot. He almost stopped breathing when she looked up at him. Her green eyes burned with the same carnal need clawing at him. She wanted him as bad as he wanted her. He knew she wasn’t aware she was teasing him, and she wasn’t playing games with him. She was innocent, and had no idea of the seductive power she held over him.

She dipped her mouth back to him, and nipped him. “Sherry!”

She ignored his plea, and continued to torture him with her sweet mouth. She traced a wet path from his nipple down to his navel, leaving a trail of fire behind. He was clutching the blanket so hard, his knuckles were white. The wolf inside him howled, and the predator demanded its freedom to claim what was his. He wanted to scream in frustration at the unfulfilled need throbbing in his cock. He wanted to cry in joy and beg her to never stop touching him. He wanted to love her like she deserved.

“Please, Sherry. Tell me I can touch you, damn it.”

He groaned when her lips left his overheated skin. She sat up and stared at him for what seemed eternity. “I’m scared.” She eyed him from head to toe and back. “You’re so big.”

He sat up beside her and cupped her cheek in his palm. “I won’t lie to you. You drive me wild, and the last thing on my mind at this very moment is a gentle loving. I ache to feel you close around me as I sink into your hot, tight wetness. I want nothing more than to drive into you until we are both out of our minds with pleasure—until you have no doubt that you belong to me. But I swear to you that I won’t hurt you. I care for you, and I’ll take it slow.” Even if it kills me.

He yearned to give her the slow, thorough loving she deserved. No matter how they made love—quick and frenzied, slow and gentle—her pleasure would be his number one priority. However, he feared the blinding need clawing his insides would rip all rational thought from his brain and the wolf would take over. The wolf would never hurt his mate, but his main mission was to claim her, mark her as his own so that any other lycan would understand that she was taken. The wolf wanted to make it known that if another dared touch her, the consequence would be death.

The wolf wasn’t interested in slow and gentle. The wolf was interested in an animalistic, frenzied staking of property. Piers the man would never view her as property, but the predatory instinct was as old as time itself, and it was a part of him he could not deny. She was precious, and he would give anything for her happiness, including his life. He would always treat her like the queen she was to him and put her safety above all else for, if she died, his soul would be lost. If she died, he’d die, maybe not in the physical sense, but his essence would simply cease to exist. Now that he’d found her, he knew he hadn’t really ever existed without her. He’d only been a part of a bigger puzzle, or a two piece puzzle of which he’d found the other long lost piece.

“Damn it, Sherry. Please tell me I can touch you.”

“Kiss me, Piers.”

He captured her lips before she had time to change her mind. If pureness had a taste, it was Sherry. He scooted closer until their upper bodies were nearly touching and urged her back against the arm he’d just slipped behind her. She was at the perfect angle for him to devour her mouth and for the luscious peaks of her nipples to brush against his chest. She moaned and he thrust his tongue inside the heaven of her mouth.

The lycan in him let loose a primitive growl, and she surrendered to his urgently coaxing lips. He cupped her nape and tangled his fingers in her hair, holding while he devoured her. Within moments, her hesitation turned to driving lust that matched his own.

She strained against him, giving him everything he asked of her, taking everything he offered. When she reached between them and dragged her fingers over his stomach, the last vestiges of his control snapped.

Her startled cry when he pushed her back onto the bed and covered her with his body should have warned him that he needed to slow down, but so lost was he in the maelstrom of need, he barely heard the strangled sob. He shoved his hand roughly under her shirt, cupped her full breast and rolled the pebbled nipple between his fingers until she arched against him, her body begging for more.

He bunched her shirt up, covered the peaked, pink nipple with his mouth, and sucked it deep before nipping it with his teeth then soothing it with his tongue. Her fingers tangled in his hair and pulled him closer. Her scent tore through him, imbedding itself in every cell of his body forever. He buried his face between her breasts and breathed her in with one long, deep breath before taking her other nipple into his mouth and paying it the homage he’d bestowed up the other one.

He slid his hand along her ribs over the smooth, baby soft skin of her flat belly, and pushed his fingers under the edge of her pants. He froze when his fingers hit soft curls unhindered by panties, and groaned in protest when she suddenly sat up.