Page 48 of Bound to the Wolf
All he had to do was reach out, and some part of him was sure Delainey would reach back.
She had been all sharp edges since they got back. Even now, in pajamas and a purple silk bonnet, that sharpness hadn’t abated. It wasn’t the clothes that made the emotion. It was every shield she kept up.
So when he felt fingers brush over his thigh, he thought he had to be hallucinating. Or maybe the coven had a cat that had snuck under the bed and could mimic human hands.
But no, it was Delainey.
She didn’t say a word, didn’t acknowledge what she was doing, and Reece barely dared to breathe. Her fingers walked over his thigh and dragged around like she was drawing designs on him. He expected her to pull away.
He was beginning to realize that when it came to Delainey, he needed to expect the unexpected.
She rolled onto her side. He was a magnet drawn to her, mirroring the action. In the dark, her brown eyes were almost black, and this close, he could count the individual lashes framing them, could see the small scar just below her left eyebrow he’d never noticed before. Her eyes were wide and her face was almost open, though she was still holding some part of herself back.
He wanted to tear that wall down, break it open, get past it so she could never put it up again when it came to him.
He could be hers if only she asked.
She reached up slowly and tapped two fingers against his cheek. He leaned into the touch and let her cup his face. Her palm was warm and slightly calloused at the base of her fingers. He saw in her eyes that she was thinking the same thing.
This would be over by tomorrow. They could leave each other behind. They would have to. They would turn their attention to figuring out who had kidnapped them and exact their vengeance. But this connection? No, it would be gone, unforgotten, as if he could ever forget this woman.
Ah, fuck it. If this was his last chance, he was taking it.
He leaned in and kissed her.
It should have been a gentle exploration. They were finally in a bed, finally had all night with little threat of rogue wolves or more kidnappers or whatever dangers they were facing.
But Reece devoured her, and Delainey gave as good as she got. She slung her hip over his and straddled him, half pulling him up and taking control of the kiss, fingers digging into his flesh hard enough to bruise. The bed frame creaked under the shift of their combined weight, and his hands found her waist through the thin cotton of her shirt, the heat of her skin burning through the fabric against his palms.
He was hard and ready, would take her right now if only her stupid pajama shorts weren’t in the way.
Without breaking the kiss, she trailed a hand between them and found his cock already jutting out of the band of his borrowed sweats. He gasped as she took him in hand and stroked. Her grip was firm and sure, and every nerve ending in his body narrowed to the slide of her fingers, the drag of her calluses, the unbearable friction of skin on skin.
He was barely holding it together, hips rocking into hers. He wouldn’t last long, and he didn’t give a damn. As soon as he was done, he was going to feast on her.
A door slammed down the hallway, and Delainey froze.
She pulled back and let go of him like he’d burned her. A feminine voice yelled something he couldn’t quite make out. Another answered. The spell was broken.
Through the thin walls he could hear footsteps on the landing, the old pipes groaning as someone turned on a faucet, and the low murmur of continued conversation that might as well have been a siren.
They weren’t in some secret hideaway, a world where no one could bother them. They were in her home, a coven house shared with four other witches, with two werewolf guests in addition to him for the night.
Sensitive ears everywhere, and more sensitive noses. They weren’t alone, she was a witch, and he’d had his tongue in her mouth while her hand was on his cock.
That couldn’t happen.
Delainey rolled off him like she’d been electrocuted.
He braced, waiting for her to call it a mistake, to tell him to pretend it never happened, or warn him it would never happen again. She scooted to the farthest edge of the bed, as if any amount of space could erase the attraction that wouldn’t seem to go away.
The air between them was thick and charged with everything they couldn’t be.
His cock jutted out, desperate for more of her. It was a different torture than the manacles, worse because he was beginning to believe that Delainey was everything to him. In the morning, he would have to let her go.
At some point he must have drifted off, because he roused from sleep sometime in the pre-dawn hours to find her body nestled against his. Her back was fitted against his chest, one of her hands resting over his where his arm circled her waist, andthe silk of her bonnet was smooth against his chin. He tightened his arms around her.
All he could think was thatyes, this was where she belonged.
