The Werewolf Prince and I (The Moretti Werewolf 1)

“See how hard I am for you, darling?” he said against her lips. “There’s nothing to worry about.”

When he stepped back, his desire only ignited even more at the soft, passion-glazed look in Misty’s eyes. Dammit, the wedding had to be in a week. He wouldn’t last any longer than that.

Curving an arm around her waist, he said quietly, “Let me take care of things. You don’t have to be in charge now. I’m here and you have someone to take care of you. Get used to it.”

Misty bit her lip but nodded, realizing that what he said was true. As the eldest of the brood, she had grown used to depending on herself alone and not sharing her worries. As they slowly walked past the guards, Misty colored when she saw their eyes twinkling from otherwise expressionless faces.

“For a guy who doesn’t like to smile, you sure care too little about PDA.”

Privately, he thought the same, but he knew it wouldn’t do to let Misty know how much she was causing him to change. There was no point giving anyone – not even Misty – such power over him.

He explained blandly, “It’s the Lyccan in me. Passion is a natural and integral part of us. It’s something we don’t bother – and never want to – hide.” It was and wasn’t the truth.

She pondered his words as they crossed the foyer. That probably explained why Domenico was so frank and aggressive. Dishonesty to his kind was no doubt considered not something evil, but simply something…unnecessary.

“Are you hungry?”

“Just a bit,” she admitted.

He led her to the living room, easily the size of a small-town theater. A black and silver chandelier dominated the room. Since the leather couches and blinds were also in black and the same color scheme was used in his penthouse office, Misty didn’t have a hard time guessing Domenico’s favorite color. It made her smile. It was yet another sign of how possessive he was, being a Lyccan – so much so that he had to mark his territory with his colors.

“Wait here and I’ll have the cook prepare us a light meal.”

Misty nodded and sat gingerly on one of the armrests. The sheer size and splendor of the room didn’t really intimidate her, but Domenico’s complete indifference to it did. She couldn’t imagine being that blasé about this amount of wealth surrounding her.

A sound made her turn to the doorway which she presumed led to the kitchen. A large white wolfhound padded inside. It had beautiful hazel eyes and its white coat gleamed under the fluorescent light.

“Hi,” she said hesitantly, not wanting to accidentally risk offending anyone if the wolfhound happened to be Lyccan as well.

It barked.

“I’m…Misty.”

It took a semi-sitting position and stared at her expectantly.

Should she say something else? “I work for Mr. Moretti.” She still couldn’t bring herself to say she was his fiancée. It was still too…surreal.

From the doorway, remaining unobserved, Domenico watched in utter fascination as Misty continued with her one-sided conversation.

Finally, he cleared his throat.

Misty looked up. Then she smiled tentatively at him. “I was just making small talk---”

“With a dog,” he told her solemnly.

“With a---” She turned to the wolfhound. “Not Lyccan?”

It was very, very hard not to laugh but he managed. “Not Lyccan,” he affirmed.

Misty slowly bent her head and covered her face.

The stance alarmed him. Damn! Had he made her cry with all his teasing? “Misty?”

She looked up and he was shocked to see that she was laughing with tears in her eyes.

Was she hysterical? “Misty?”

She kept on laughing. God! She was such an idiot! “I finally figured out why I’m acting like some fool.” Misty took a deep breath and admitted the truth with a helpless shrug. “I’m so nervous and excited about kissing you and doing…those things…that my mind just isn’t working properly.”

The desire that he had so carefully kept leashed broke free. Without a word, he swept her in his arms and kissed her as he made his way up to the bedroom. She gasped against his mouth, but he didn’t cease the pressure of his kiss. He watched her sigh and surrender, eyes closing, arms going around his neck.

It was only when he had locked the door and set her down that she started acting uneasy again.

He quelled her protests and struggles with one look. He crooked a finger. “Come here.”

She did.

“Closer.”

So she did.

“I’m going to undress you.”

For the life of her, Misty couldn’t bring herself to speak. Her entire body was heating up and all she could do was stare at him and wait. Her skin burned every time it felt the brush the touch of his fingers. Before she knew it, her shirt was on the floor. Seconds later, and it was joined by her skirt.

Misty’s arms immediately crisscrossed over her chest and panties. She didn’t know which one she should cover first even though Domenico was doing his best to drive her crazy with his kisses.

Domenico chuckled against her mouth as he pulled her hands away.

They fell limply against her sides as she felt Domenico unclasping her bra and tossing it to the floor. He started moving them toward the bed until the back of her knees hit it.

Domenico immediately lifted her onto the bed, skimming her panties down her thighs as she landed on her back. It was so fast that she was na**d by the time she blinked up at him.

“Don’t,” Domenico said hoarsely as she attempted to cover herself again.

The intensity of her gaze made Misty feel even hotter and she wrapped her arms around her chest more tightly while twisting her legs closed.

“I was unable to sleep the entire night just imagining you like this. Let me look at you, Misty. Please?”

She swallowed. “It’s…embarrassing,” she whispered.

“Don’t be embarrassed with me. Ever. I’m going to be your husband. We’ll be spending the rest of our lives together.” He touched her face and let his fingers caress a trail to her neck. He felt her shiver. “Let me look at you.”

She slowly let her arms drop to her sides again. Misty watched him watching her and slowly, she stopped being embarrassed. It was impossible to stay so when he was gazing at her so reverently, as if he was worshipping her body.

“You’re still dressed,” she said shyly.

He smiled. “Undress me?” he invited huskily.