Did these wolves live minimalist lifestyles on purpose? Or was this the result of a lack of feminine touch?
“See anything you like?” Dexter purred from the doorway and I jumped around.
“Oh, shit! You scared me.” I put a hand to my chest, feeling my heart hammering away.
Heat flushed my face, mostly from being caught with my hand in the cookie jar.
But if I were honest, there was another reason my cheeks were hot—the desire that wove through my body whenever Dexter was present.
He leaned against the door with the casual confidence of a fifties movie star.
His jeans hung on his lean hips like they were ready to fall to the ground any moment and his shoulders barely fit through the door, he was so huge.
“Ah… is this your room? I wasn’t sure.”
He began to stalk forward and I couldn’t stop the way my throat tightened and my belly clenched.
Damn, he was so sexy.
I wanted him. More than I’d ever wanted anyone in my life. But dare I go after what my body so desperately wanted?
He kept prowling forward and I backed up, until my legs buckled against the bed and I landed on my ass on the mattress.
He kept advancing over me and I shuffled up the bed.
He slid right over the top of me and I found myself staring up at the hottest man to ever rise above me.
He didn’t kiss me though, as I expected. Instead, he stared down at me, a muscle tightening and ticking in his jaw as though he fought our attraction with every breath he took.
That gave me the strangest sense of power, knowing he wanted me that much and yet would fight to give me the choice.
“Aren’t you going to kiss me?” I managed to ask, though my chest was tight with expectation and I was literally squirming on the bed from the ache between my thighs.
He frowned a little, lines forming between his eyebrows. “You said I was the scariest of all.”
I wanted to laugh. I wanted to run. But more than anything I wanted to grab him and pull him down on top of me, just to feel the sheer weight of his body on mine.
“You are,” I admitted, and he began to move away, retreating from the bed, disappointment etched into his face.
I grabbed his arms and held him still. I didn’t want him to go anywhere. “You didn’t let me finish.”
He slowly moved back above me, so he could look straight into my eyes once again.
“What else is there, Claire?”
I reached up and ran my hands slowly over his arms, the huge muscles bulging and flexing beneath my fingers.
I could feel the animal attraction between us as though it were a solid object. It burned and flickered like a flame, but not intense enough to knock me out again, thank God. It was more muted now.
“You’re scary because you’re so strong. You could tear me apart with these muscles… couldn’t you Dexter?”
He clenched his jaw. “I’d never hurt you.”
I arched my back, unable to stay away from him. I wanted to be naked, to feel him against my flesh.
God, I am such a wanton at the moment!
What have these men done to me?