Page 114 of The Lure of Wolves and Whispers
But he breaks the kiss. Tears his lips from mine, even as his hand tightens at the dip of my waist and the rough stroke of his thumb skims the sensitive skin just above the waist of my leathers. Every nerve in me protests.
The hunger in his gaze tells me he does too.
“Fuck.” Wolf’s voice is ragged. His forehead brushes mine as he shakes his head. “You’re hurt. I shouldn’t have—”
“You shouldn’t have stopped.”
I flush at the boldness in my words. They come out like a confession, one I never meant to make—but it’s too late now. And it’s not the first time being near him has made me reckless.
Reckless?The whisper curls around my mind.Or brave?
His eyes flare, the heat in them scorching my skin. But he takes a half step back, as if he doesn’t believe me. Like he won’tlethimself believe me. “You don’t mean that.”
“Don’t tell me what I mean.” Irritation crackles in my veins. I feel the heat of it in my cheeks, my swollen lips, every damn place his fingers skimmed along my skin.
Wolf’s brow furrows. He studies me, but I can’t for the life of me work out what he’s searching for. I lift my chin stubbornly and the corner of his lips curls up into that familiar crooked smirk that makes heat pool low in my stomach.
He lifts one hand, cupping my face, and leans in close enough that our chests are flush all over again. His breathing is rough but controlled. And all I can wonder is what it would sound like—feellike—for him to completely surrender.
This time, the kiss is slower. Careful. Deeper, but no less exhilarating.
His tongue teases mine, drawing out a soft sound that catches in the back of my throat and makes me press in closer, as if there’s still any space to close between us. Wolf’s fingers fist gently in the hair at the back of my neck, pulling me in tight against him.
His other hand curls at the dip in my low back like it belongs there, stirring the pool of aching longing in the very core of me.
When he draws back, the hunger rearing in those green eyes is a tamed beast. He rakes both hands through his hair, making it stand on end, and steps back. A darker, more dangerous intrigue sparks in the gaze he offers back to me now. “Tell me more about this plan of yours.”
A shiver trails over my skin, and I feel suddenly exposed. Aware, in a way I wasn’t before, of all of me bare except for the breast band and the bandages he wrapped so gently around myribs. Wolf’s eyes follow the path of the tremble, and he pulls his shirt over his head, exposing swathes of bare, sculpted chest—and scars, all of them the same purpled, branching marks as the one along his jaw.
The sight makes my heart hurt.
My fingers itch to brush over each of them, as if just one touch could reveal all his secrets.
But the moment my hand drifts toward the first mark, angry and sprawling from the curve of his shoulder and down across his heart, Wolf flinches. He tears his gaze from mine and squeezes his eyes closed.
He doesn’t pull away from me, though. And he doesn’t pull that practiced blank mask over his features.
Whether he means for me to or not, I see everything. The shadows and the flare of guilt he wrestles with behind them—and the hurt, and the ache—as he lets his eyes lift back to mine.
For the first time, I think I seehim.
“Take it,” Wolf offers, holding the soft, worn linen out to me. The shirt is as black as his hair, matching the leathers doing a valiant job hiding the need for me I can feel he’s fighting.
I take it and pull the too-big shirt over my head. I’m practically swimming in it, but his body heat lingers and chases away the shiver.
Wolf’s lip catches in his teeth, and his eyes move over me. “Now, that’s just fucking unfair.”
“What?” I flush, suddenly self-conscious.
He leans in so his lips just barely brush the shell of my ear. His hands work behind me, rummaging on the table, and I haveto fight the instinct to arch myself that tiny bit closer to him.
“How good you look in my shirt,” he says, and draws back, leather jacket in his hands.
He pulls it on, fastening the clasps and covering the branching scars across his chest. Relief unfurls in me to see there aren’t any bite marks in the leather.
Wolf catches me looking, a question in the lift of his dark brow.
“Right. My plan.” I draw in a breath. “We need Cash to plant that vial on a noble daughter and hope her inglorious death will enrage the nobles enough to break with the High Queen.”
