Free Wild Wolf: Black Mesa Wolves #4 by J.K. Harper

of his body against her once more made them both inhale, hard. Claire could smell the sweet need of his desire as much as hers. Caution fled her as she allowed her senses to drive her fully.
    Gently, Tate leaned on her until the backs of her knees bent at the edge of the bed. Guided by his hand at the small of her back, she slowly felt herself reclining in a half-sitting, half-lying down position onto the mattress. Tate braced himself on his arms above her, looking into her eyes. She saw the focus of his wolf staring out, making Tate's eyes glow behind their darkness. Carefully, he urged them both farther up the bed until they lay completely on it. Silence held them in thrall the entire time, although Claire's heart beat so loudly she was positive he had to hear it.
    “Claire,” he said in a casual voice.
    “Mm?” She wondered if it was possible for her heart to beat its way out of her chest.
    “How attached are you to your clothes, darlin'?” His voice hoarsened. Lowering himself to one elbow, the other arm still bracing above her, he trailed a fingertip along her side.
    Sucking in a sharp breath at his touch, Claire shook her head, slightly confused. “I have other clothes. Why?”
    Tate smiled and hooked a finger beneath her blouse. “Because I want you out of them, now. But I don't want to make you too mad at me just yet.”
    Despite the nearly overwhelming sensations zipping through her tensed, ready body, Claire stuttered out a small laugh. “If you make me mad, guess you'll just have to pay the price for it.”
    Tate groaned. “Don't tease me like that. Oh, god,” he muttered. Closing his eyes for the briefest second, when he opened them again their rich glow stole Claire's breath. “I can't hold back anymore.”
    Arching herself into him, pressing her breasts against his hard chest, she urgently replied, “Then don't.”
    With another small groan tearing out of his throat, Tate ripped her blouse off in one move, sending popped buttons zinging off all over the bed and onto the carpet. Claire gasped from shock and a sharp, aching spike in her wild desire. Her panties immediately flooded with hot, wet warmth. Tate gazed down at her breasts, encased in a lacy rose-colored bra, with the worshipful attention of a man who was aware of nothing else in the world at the moment. Muttering a low swear word, he reached down to cup one breast in his hand.
    Claire uttered an inarticulate cry, thrusting herself into his hand as her nipple stiffened just from the touch of his fingers on her bra. Hot swirls of feeling puckered her nipple even more as he began to play with it through the silky fabric.
    “Christ, Claire,” he muttered. “You're beyond stunning.” She closed her eyes, spinning in the sensations his light touch caused. “Claire, beautiful woman, look at me,” he suddenly demanded.
    Dragging her eyes back open, she stared back at him, feeling as if a lit firecracker was bouncing around inside her, beautifully enflaming everything it touched.
    “Am I going too fast here?” His voice was heavy with need.
    “No.” She shook her head hard to emphasize it. “Not fast enough,” she added, reaching up her arms to him and pulling him down to her for another long, deep kiss.
    Tate said something but it muffled in her mouth. He tasted just like his spicy chocolate scent, all smoky and rich and exploding on her tongue. This time, though, his hands explored her body. One lingered on her breasts, exploring first one, then the other. His other hand traveled down her hip, tracing her leg through her pants. He slowly swirled his fingers, heating small infernos under her skin and eliciting more small cries from her.
    He was so strong. So exciting. So—so him.
    Mine, her most primal part thought in a firm rush of possessiveness that left Claire breathless. Mine.
     
    ***
     
    Tate wondered if he might pass out from the sheer intoxication of Claire's kiss. Feeling her soft, supple body beneath his, so pliant and open,