Free The Werewolf’s Bride: The Pack Rules #1 by Michele Bardsley Page A

werewolves preferred more curvy women, and I figured given time and my addiction to cake, I could gain some much needed weight.
    “It’s been a nerve-wracking few months,” I admitted. “It affected my appetite.”
    “You’ll need to be healthy to carry a werewolf baby.” He examined my midsection. “Alphas tend to breed quickly.”
    I knew that. In fact, I’d been trying not to think about it too hard. Marriage, mating, and murder had taken up most of my mental anxieties.
    “You’ll find some appropriate clothes in that dresser. Get comfortable, and I’ll make you a plate.”
    “Appropriate clothes” appeared to mean “assorted lingerie.” I found a pink-lace teddy and matching underwear. I held them up, considering.
    “Don’t bother putting on those,” said Grey. “You won’t need them.”
    Oh, mercy.
    I slipped off my clothes and put on the teddy. The lacy cloth hit mid-thigh, but the draft between my legs was somewhat disconcerting. “It’s not really dining attire,” I said.
    “It is for where we’ll be dining.” He gestured to the bed.
    “What about crumbs?” I asked indignantly.
    Grey laughed. “We’ll manage. Life is messy, sweetheart. So is sex. And dirty, sweaty sex is the best kind, I promise you.”
    Whew. I crawled onto the massive bed and watched Grey finish piling treats on a plate. Not a single piece of fruit made it onto the dish. Satisfied with his selections, he quickly divested himself of his own clothing. He grabbed the plate and held it with one hand as he maneuvered himself onto the bed with me.
    “Relax, Arabelle.” He nodded toward the pillows, and I sank into them, trying to get my limbs to loosen up. I felt as stiff as a board and as nervous as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs.
    “Let me feed you.” He offered a tiny cake, and I opened my mouth to accept. The sweet vanilla concoction melted on my tongue.
    “Oh! That’s so good!”
    Grey smiled. “Have another.” The next was silky raspberry and the one after, a delicious cinnamon.
    “Your turn.” Boldly, I plucked a truffle hiding among the other desserts and pressed it against his lips. “Do you like chocolates?”
    He nodded. I pushed the treat inside his mouth. The chocolate was gone in an instant and then he sucked my finger, his tongue swirling around the tip.
    Lightning flashed in my belly—hot, jagged, and breath-stealing. I stared at him wide-eyed, and he smiled lazily. “Another one, please.”
    He released my finger. I chose another truffle, this one an orb of white, and lifted it to his mouth. “Let me take it from your lips.”
    I did as he asked.
    He leaned forward and delicately bit the truffle, his lips ghosting across mine. The light touch, the slightly forbidden way of taking both the dessert and my mouth at the same time had me tingling from head to toe. I took the rest of the chocolate into my mouth and savored it. I thought about savoring him in the same way.
    “Best chocolate ever,” he said, “especially when it tastes like you.”
    “I have a taste?”
    “Oh, yes. You, my sweet Arabelle, are the most delicious treat I’ve ever licked.”
    Mercy. I thought about his scenting, about how he’d brought me to intense pleasure with that glorious mouth of his. His gentleness now caused the same kind of quivering as his fierce seduction then.
    He put the dish on the precarious stack of pillows above us and then focused on me. His fingertips drifted across my arm, down my side, to my hip. He slipped his strong hand under my buttock, cupping it and kneading it.
    I swallowed heavily.
    “Touch me,” he commanded softly.
    “Where?”
    “Wherever you want.”
    I splayed my fingers against his broad, muscled chest. I felt a hot spark in my belly as I explored his firm flesh. “That feels good, Arabelle.”
    His encouragement made me bolder still, and I explored the ridges of his stomach and the lean junctures of his hips. His manhood was already thick and hard, the mushroomed tip