Bad Wolf (Wild Men 4)

His knee is between my legs, and I moan into the kiss as it presses right where I need him. His tongue fucks my mouth, and I hump his leg, my hands gripping his big shoulders so tightly I can’t feel my fingers.

Every sweep of his tongue, every shift of his body, every touch feels like the first and last I’ll ever feel. It scorches me, marks me, destroys me.

Drives me higher, the pleasure drowning me before we’ve even started.

Then he’s tearing my jacket off my shoulders and pulls his mouth from mine to bite into my flesh. His lips move higher, to my neck, and I buck against him, needing him closer, needing him naked.

“Jarett…” I breathe, releasing his shoulders to tug at his clothes. Too many clothes between us, too many barriers, untruths and problems and impossibilities.

Lifting his head, he fixes me with his heated gaze. God, a boy shouldn’t be allowed to have such pretty eyes, such a pretty mouth.

Such a bad soul.

All my doubts have led me back here, and he’s again crushing them with the reminder of the gang he belongs to, the arrogance in his voice and the harshness of his words. This boy sure isn’t all roses and rainbows—but it’s more than that. He has an edge that cuts deep.

He’s made of sharp bits, all ready to hurt, beautiful like a shiny blade and just as lethal.

And worst of all, he doesn’t seem to sense the wrongness of it. Doesn’t seem to want to change his ways, to be saved.

He pulls back just enough to shed his jacket and in one swift movement drags his sweater and T-shirt off. “This what you want?”

God, yes, I think, the rest of my thoughts derailed and fading as I let my hands roam over his muscled, inked chest, over firm, warm flesh, over the beat of his racing heart.

He’s affected by this. Aroused. Shaking with it. He’s so hard the tent in his pants pushes into my stomach, even though we’re not pressed together anymore.

More. I want more, and I let my hands drop to his belt.

But he slams me back to the wall before I can do more than that, driving the air from my lungs. Grabbing the hem of my sweater, he lifts it over my head, until I have no choice but to lift my arms and let him drag it off me.

Undress for me, that’s what he’d demanded last time, and I’d walked out. Looks like this time he’s getting his way, and I’m doing nothing to stop him.

I don’t want him to stop.

Somewhere at the back of my mind, I’m aware of a small voice screaming at me to end this madness and walk out, to think before I do something even more stupid than last time. But I can barely hear it over the sound of my own heartbeat, too loud in my ears, as he moves his hands over my body, around the back, seeking the zipper.

He locates it, his body again covering mine. He pulls the zipper down, and the dress drops to the floor, pooling around my feet.

Dressed only in my bra and panties and my knee-high black boots, I look up at him, my breath caught in my throat, feeling more exposed than ever before in my life. Even though I’m still not naked. Even though other guys have seen me in less.

The way his eyes darken as he takes me in, the way his hand drops on a possessive grip on my hip… it’s as if he can see my every secret, my every thought.

See how powerless I am to resist him.

“Red underwear,” he mutters. “Of course.” He braces his other hand on the wall by my head, cornering me. Trapping me with his bulk.

I love it.

His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and I

gulp. His hand on my hip trails lower, dipping inside my panties.

I shiver.

“So wet,” he says softly, stroking my clit, and I gasp and arch against him, helplessly clutching at his arms. “All this for me.”

So arrogant, I want to tell him. So sure it’s for you.

It’s the truth, though. It’s all because of him. He’s driving me wild, his thumb circling my clit, his gaze boring into mine… just that, and I’m about to come apart.