“Why?” She ran her tongue across his neck and shoulders, tasting him as he’d tasted her earlier.
“Because you’re injured. And because my need is so great I might just hurt you.”
“Your need is a bigger danger than my wound.”
She touched his face, forcing him to look at her. His eyes were almost otherworldly. The moon fever truly had him in its grip, and once he was released there would be no going back until the fever was sated. It was a wonder he’d had enough control to resist her this long.
She kissed him gently, then said against his lips, “Take me, werewolf. Take me now.”
He groaned and grabbed her, pulling her so close his heat nearly melted her skin. His mouth claimed hers with such ferocity that her head swam. He forced her back, not to the bed but to the rug in front of the fireplace, and lay down beside her. He kissed her lips, her throat, her shoulders as his hands set her alight with an urgency as great as his own. She was more than ready when he thrust inside her, and she groaned at the sheer pleasure of it. His powerful strokes drove deep, promising satisfaction, but they were too fast, too soon. He came with a roar that flushed heat through her body and left her trembling with unfulfilled desire.
When his shuddering stopped he kissed her again, gentler this time but no less urgently. The fever still raged in his eyes, and she knew that at this moment she was just a body on which he sated his needs. He didn’t actually see her. Yet.
But this wasn’t about her. For the moment, it was about him.
He continued to kiss her, and after a while he grew hard again. He replaced the condom, then slipped inside of her, stroking slow and deep, until it felt as if there wasn’t an inch he hadn’t delved. Pleasure rippled across her skin, became a pulsing need that grew more urgent as his stroking quickened. He kissed her neck, burned a trail with his tongue down to her breasts, then took one nipple in his mouth and sucked hard. She groaned, arching against him, wanting it faster, harder. He complied. When he came a second time she went with him, her whole body shaking with the force of it.
But the moon fever wasn’t finished yet.
He pulled her to her feet, picked her up, and carried her to the bed, where he continued to make love to her until the flush of dawn touched the skies and the pile of condoms was severely depleted. But the fever finally left his eyes, and the last time they made love it was her he saw. Her he made love to. Then he left her and went to sleep out on the sofa.
KAT PULLED ON HER SWEATER AS SHE WALKED THROUGH the living room. Ethan still slept on the sofa, the blanket tangled around his hips, revealing the lean planes of the body she now knew so well. She let her gaze linger on him for a moment, her pulse stirring as she remembered the feel of his skin against hers, the heat of his touch—the way he’d claimed her, at first with such ferocity, then later with such tenderness and passion. She swallowed to ease the sudden dryness in her throat and walked on.
It was barely eight and, after his efforts last night, she really didn’t expect him to surface for another couple of hours. Which was a good thing, because she wasn’t entirely sure what she was going to say to the man who could create such magic with his touch and yet refused to allow the slightest bit of intimacy afterward.
Gwen was in the process of carrying a large tray of food over to the table when Kat entered the
second cabin. She took the tray from her grandmother’s hands and placed it on the table, then walked over to the small coffeemaker and poured them both a cup of coffee.
“You feeding an army?” She sat down and surveyed the platters of bacon, eggs, Danishes, and fruit.
Gwen’s eyes twinkled. “Thought you two might need some sustenance after last night.”
Kat grinned despite the slight flush of heat to her cheeks. Last night the walls could have been thinner than air, and she wouldn’t have cared. “The man does have stamina, I’ll give him that.”
“He’s a werewolf and the moon is rising. That’s a given.” Gwen plucked a Danish from the plate and began eating it. “As long as you were careful, that’s all that matters.”
Kat gave her a long look. “We’re not sex-mad teenagers. Both of us are able to contain our hormones long enough to take care of that.”
“Maybe, but listen to an old woman who knows what she’s talking about and make sure you keep your wits about you, because as the moon gets closer, he won’t.”
She stared at her grandmother for several seconds. She’d lived with this woman all her life, and still there seemed something new to discover almost every week.
“You had a werewolf lover?”
“Oh, yes.” Gwen’s reply was more a sigh. “And a most enjoyable six months it was, too. They’re very athletic lovers.”
She could vouch for the stamina, but the athletic part was still to be discovered. But then, Gran had always been more adventurous than she was, and even now thought nothing of making love someplace horribly awkward or public. “Are they all … wary of intimacy, or is it just mine?”
Gwen frowned. “Werewolves can be strange beasties. Did you know that they mate for life?”
Kat blinked. “How can that be possible if they screw themselves silly every full moon and aren’t particularly fussy about with whom?”
“That’s sex. Most men separate sex from love, but in a werewolf’s case, that line is more defined. But when he—or she, for that matter—gives his heart, it’s given forever.”
Kat swallowed a lump of suddenly tasteless bacon. “So the lack of intimacy might very well mean—”
“He’s already given his heart, and all that is left is sex.” Gwen reached across the table and squeezed Kat’s hand. “But don’t take that as gospel. Not until you’ve asked Ethan.”