Page 79 of A Wolfe in the Woods

My breath hitched.

And a naked body,I added silently, seeing his clothing tear in my memory the moment he had shifted.

He was hunched, panting, glistening with sweat. Every inch of him bared to the moonlight.

My gaze traced his physique—broad shoulders, taut lines of muscle across his chest and abdomen, every breath pulling tightagainst his ribs. He was now in his human form, but something about him still felt unchanged. Like an animalistic residue was still clinging to him.

And then my eyes dropped lower.

The weight of him, thick and rigid, hung between his thighs, impossible to ignore. There was no hiding it…his cock, bold and brazen in the moonlight. Shocking heat pooled low in my stomach, hard and fast. And truth be told, I was a little embarrassed by the reaction, given the circumstances of what we’d just escaped, leading to all the nakedness before me now.

Then something else caught my eye. A dark crimson bead winding slowly down his forearm, sliding off his fingers to the ground. The cascading drops falling to the dirt path on the cliff and soaking into the earth. Blood.

“Oh my gods! You’re hurt!” I breathed, rushing forward.

His upper right arm was gashed open, a dark gory line where something had slashed him during the run. The wound looked raw and angry.

He glanced down at it with the same annoyed indifference someone might give a torn coat sleeve. “It’s not bad.”

He didn’t stop me as I pressed fabric from his torn shirt, still hanging off his body in tatters, against the wound, wrapping it as best I could. My fingers dragged across his skin—hot, damp from sweat, thrumming with restrained power.

“May’ll stitch it.” His voice was low, rougher now, like he’d swallowed gravel.

Our faces were close. His breath hit my lips. My body still thrummed with adrenaline and the memory of him carrying me out of danger. It twisted into something unexpected and magnetic…raw want and need. I didn’t know what to do with the way I felt in that moment—the pulse that jumped when his eyes met mine again. Not fear.Hunger. A slow, molten bloom.

Jonathan’s pupils were wide, his nostrils flared. The wolf in him recognized it first. He reached, almost instinctively, his hand sliding to my hip, claiming. A wolf, or in this case, a Lycan, didn’t ask permission. In nature they weren’t bound to social cues. At least not human ones. But he paused for a moment, his eyes searching mine for the smallest flicker of resistance.

Only there wasn’t any.

I should’ve stepped away, but I didn’t.

My lips parted in invitation, and that was all Jonathan needed. His mouth crashed down onto mine, all heat and hunger, ache and urgency, years of long held restraint I felt bottled in him breaking all at once. His hands gripped my hips, pulling me flush against him, and I moaned into the kiss.

I felt like I was unraveling. It was lustandpermission, my own. A potent blend of adrenaline, heated attraction, and release. The tension I’d been holding in my body and soul for a year now suddenly exploded with violent need.

I could feel him completely…his chest, broad and searing, the wide set of his shoulders, the possessive strength in his grip. And lower…his cock, thick and growing, pressing hot and unmistakable against my stomach.

My body felt cool—a stark contrast to Jonathan’s, raging like an inferno.

All around us was the edge of the world. The deep valley of the woods stretched behind us like a half-forgotten dream.

“Blanche…” he whispered, forehead pressed to mine, breath hot and trembling.

“Don’t you dare stop,” I pleaded back.

So he didn’t.

He kissed down my jaw, trailing heat along my neck like he was tasting something sacred. Gods, it felt good. It had always been one of my favorite things…when a lover knew how to kiss your neck just right, that tantalizing blend of gentleness andwildness. My neck was sensitive, and it was like he knew it. He kissed and nibbled instinctively. Hungrily. Perfectly.

Our bodies aligned. In a strange way, it felt like we were always meant to find each other here, now. In this very place and moment. My breath hitched as his cock swelled harder against me, a pulsing, urgent presence between us.

I let my fingers trail downward, slowly, over his taut abdomen. The rippled muscles flexed under my touch, ridged and hard like carved stone. Their grooves guided my touch lower, until I reached the space between us.

There, slick against his tip, was a bead of arousal, waiting for me. I brushed the pre-come with the tip of my finger and then lightly teased his head. He groaned. Low, feral, like it had been dragged out of a slumbering beast.

His mouth returned to my neck, rougher now. More desperate. He bit just enough to make me gasp. I could feel myself getting lost in it—in him. My hand found his cock again, firmer this time. I wrapped my fingers around the base, or tried to. Gods…I could barely get them to meet.

His breath caught. His whole body shuddered.