Free My Sister Is a Werewolf by Kathy Love Page A

satisfying, but they were enough. It was fair that she, too, didn’t understand this all-encompassing need between them.
    He caught her chin between his fingers and captured her mouth. Just as the night before, the meeting of their lips erupted into a blazing, wild fire.
    Lust just wasn’t a strong enough word to describe what coursed through him. It was as if, from the moment he saw her, he had to possess her. He had to drive himself into her tight body repeatedly until there was no doubt as to why she’d come back to him.
    He wanted to make her his—in the most elemental way possible.
    His hands left her face, moving to her waist. He lifted her onto the scratched oak of the table. Then he positioned himself between her spread thighs. She gasped as his pelvis ground into hers.
    He paused. “Did I hurt you?”
    She shook her head. “No, you feel good.”
    He smiled at that, immediately thinking of things he’d like to do that would make her feel much, much better.
    But again he caressed her face, tracing the delicate point of her chin, then the fullness of her lips.
    “You know,” he said, moving in closer so their mouths were nearly touching. “I’d begun to believe that last night was nothing more than a figment of my imagination.”
    “Is it real now?” she asked.
    “Yes. Between you being here now, and the torn panties in the front seat of my truck, I do believe it is.”
    She pulled back and blinked up at him. He could see she hadn’t expected that response. Then she laughed, the sound full and rich and making more desire curl through him. He smiled, too. Then he kissed her again, catching the warm, rich sound into his mouth, into his body.
    The laugh immediately transformed into a moan, a sound no less appealing and even more arousing.
    Knowing it showed zero-to-no finesse, he couldn’t stop his fingers from drifting to the part of her body she had so daringly and deliciously offered to him.
    The damp curls tickled his fingertips. Fiery heat burned them. Instantly, he was overwhelmed by the scent he’d experienced back in the bar. A scent that made his head spin, his body tighten with barely restrained need, his mouth water.
    He pushed her backward on the table. He barely registered the flutter of newspaper scattering to the floor. He was too focused on the sight of her bared to the waist, the scent of her enveloping him, luring him to her.
    A scent he wanted to taste on her skin. He leaned forward, kissing her, taking small tastes with little flicks of his tongue. She did taste every bit as good as she smelled, as she looked. And he wanted to taste more of her.
    His mouth left her lips, moving to her jaw, to her throat. Encountering the barrier of her T-shirt and her jean jacket, he moved farther down, positioning himself between her thighs.
    He pressed a kiss to her bare knee, trailing open-mouth kisses up her inner thigh. As he edged closer to the place he most wanted to taste, he felt her tense, her legs not moving, but the muscles under her smooth skin growing tight.
    He lifted his head, really enjoying the position they were in. Him practically kneeling between her spread thighs, she lounging back amongst the remaining sections of newspaper, looking down her body at him with intense moonstone eyes.
    “Are you okay?” he asked, purposely leaning closer so his lips were lined up with the moist curls between her thighs. God, she smelled delicious. Like hot spices, like pure sex.
    Again, he noted that her muscles tightened, barely contracting, not noticeable to the eye, but there nonetheless.
    “I’m... ” She nodded.
    He wondered at her sudden hesitation. Shyness certainly didn’t correlate with the woman who’d just bared herself to him. The woman who came here with this exact intent.
    And it was going to happen. Most definitely. Just like last night, it was impossible to stop it. Even as small scraps of his mind told him he shouldn’t. For his own sanity.
    What was sanity? Who needed it?
    He