Play of Passion (Psy-Changeling 9)

This time, she kissed him, wrapping her arms around his neck and shoving one hand into the rich silk of his hair to pull his mouth down to hers. “You are not leaving SnowDancer.” She bit him hard on his lower lip. “You do and we’re done.”

Slits of blue gleamed beneath lowered lashes. “I thought we were already done.”

“I changed my mind.” Fact was, she hadn’t stopped thinking about him since the instant she’d told him they were over—and though she’d never in a million years admit it, it would’ve destroyed her if he had taken her at her word and backed off. That wasn’t how dominant wolves courted, and somewhat to her surprise, she found she’d still been tangling with him on that level. “Would you like to argue, or would you like to go home and tear each other’s clothes off?”

The curve of his lips against hers. “I never really liked North Dakota anyway.”

Hearing the wolf’s laughter in that, she looked up, felt her eyes widen, her own wolf sitting up in shocked disbelief. “You played me!” No one had ever fooled either woman or wolf to this extent.

He nibbled on her ear. “I was serious about leaving, but I was hoping you wouldn’t let me.” A look so guileless she knew it was the wolf attempting to appear innocent.

Leaving, her foot, she thought. He’d had no intention whatsoever of doing that.

For some reason, his wickedness made her own wolf shake its head and grin. “Just for that,” she said, nipping at his chin, able to feel the eager thrust of his erection against her abdomen, “I’m going to make you finish treating me to dinner.” Her thighs tightened with anticipation, her skin shimmering with a touch-hunger only Drew could satisfy.

Taking her lips in a sweet, hot kiss, he slid his hand to her bottom, squeezed. “You’re on, Lieutenant.”

The starters and the mains passed by relatively smoothly—if Indigo disregarded the fact that Drew was eating her up with his eyes—but then they got to dessert. “Oh,” she all but purred as she saw what he’d ordered.

A miniature triple-chocolate baked cheesecake with lime sorbet on the side.

When he put the plate in front of himself and crooked a finger, her wolf bared its teeth but decided to play along . . . and torture him a little. Walking over, she put one hand on the back of his neck and slid her fingers into his hair as she settled herself on his lap. “Oh, my,” she murmured, flicking her tongue over her lower lip, “what is that I feel beneath me?”

Drew’s laugh was pained. “Witch.” Dipping the spoon into the sorbet, he brought it to her lips.

Holding her. Claiming her.

As the cool silver touched her lips, her eyes locked with his . . . and all laughter leached away. He waited, patient. “I can see your wolf,” he said to her.

Her wolf saw him, too. And it decided that this male who confused, puzzled, amused, delighted, and pleasured them in equal measures was a worthy opponent. Parting her lips, she let him slip the spoon inside. “Mmm.” It was a throaty sound of bliss as she savored the crisp taste of lime, tart and sweet at the same time.

Drew’s hand spread on her lower back as he returned to scoop up a piece of cheesecake. When he put it to her lips this time, she opened without hesitation, holding his gaze the entire time, knowing her own had gone wolf on him. Then the chocolate flavors burst to life on her tongue and she decided that Drew Kincaid had earned the mind-blowing sex she was going to give him tonight.

Leaning down, she shared the taste of the cheesecake with him in the most intimate of ways. “Good, isn’t it?” She stroked her tongue lazily against his as his hand clenched on her hip.

The spoon clattered onto the plate, and Drew’s hand was suddenly between her thighs, cupping her with shocking, raw intimacy. “Drew.”

He shuddered. “You’re so wet, so ready.” The sound of something tearing, and then black lace was fluttering to the floor. “Straddle me.”

“I—we can’t—what if—”

He was already maneuvering her body into position, his hands pushing up her dress to the edge of her butt. “No one will come in. I initiated the lock after the meal was delivered.”

Indigo shivered as he moved his hands up to cup her bu**ocks. “We can’t have sex in a restaurant.” She was scandalized at the idea.

“Take me out, Indy.” Kisses on her neck, hot, passionate, earthy.

She could no more stop her hands from smoothing down his clothed chest to the buckle of his belt than she could stop her body from rubbing sensuously against his. Managing to undo the belt in spite of her suddenly clumsy fingers, she unbuttoned the top button of his pants before giving in to temptation and placing fingers over him. He sucked in a breath and seemed to freeze against her. “Zipper, Indy.” The hoarse need in his voice further incited her own hunger as she lowered the zipper, her fingers brushing against the warm, stiff ridge of his arousal.

“What do you have against underwear?” Not that she was complaining. Not when he was so hard and beautiful in her hand. Thick and silky and pulsing with lust. For her. Only for her. Possessiveness made her stroke him slow and easy, taking her time, placing her mark.

He bit her nipple through the dress—a short, sharp warning. “Underwear is overrated.” In her hands, he pulsed hotter, and suddenly she couldn’t wait any longer.

Changing position a fraction, she brought them into perfect sync. Feeling him push into her was . . . Shuddering, she clenched her hands in his hair and let him ease her down on that beautiful cock. “Mine.” She nipped his ear. “Touch any other woman and I’ll cut it off.”