Page 66 of Shark’s Edge

“Later.” The man still barely blinked, continuing to bathe me in the dark-blue tide pools of his gaze.

“But I’ll only be a moment. It’s no trouble at—”

“Later!”

Holy shit. The wolf was ready to bare his fangs any second. I warmed to the thought at once, despite how he flashed me a roguish wink. His action lowered the intimate bubble around us, even as he raised his voice to a boom that could have filled the Staples Center arena.

“And Terryn? Shut the door thoroughly. Hold all my calls. I’m not to be disturbed for the next half hour.”

“Y-Yes, Mr. Shark.”

My nerves were ready to concede an alliance with the woman’s wobbly voice, but as soon as Terryn was gone, they were drenched by a wave of curious calm. I expected it to recede as soon as I stepped out from behind the cart, especially as Sebastian stalked over as if leading the wolf pack to take sample bites out of me. But as he dipped and did just that to my neck, I wrapped my hands around his head and bent back, exposing even more flesh for his questing lips and tongue.

Yes.

What this ferocious, demanding, force of nature did to me . . .

“My God, woman.”

Especially when he growled things like that into my skin.

“What’s this about, calling me back here?” I managed to ask, despite my shallow breaths and deepening desire. The crevice between my legs turned into pure heat, a torment from which he gave me no mercy, digging his teeth into the sensitive valley beneath my ear.

In answer, he turned the flat of his tongue into a searing sweep along the front of my neck. My long moan was his vibrating reward, but he didn’t halt the sweet assault. Down he trailed, to the ridge of my collarbone. “So delicious,” he murmured along that oh-so-sensitive ridge. “So perfect.”

And clearly, the man was just getting started. Sebastian worked my lips apart with a spearing invasion and then circled his tongue with mine in hot, thorough domination while he claimed every moan I could spare, every mewl I could manage, every tremble I could muster. As he did so with the twisting, meshing, searing proof of his passion—a hunger I never knew any man was capable of possessing, much less expressing with this fire and fury and lust.

It was so good.

So damn good.

No. It was beyond that. I was dizzy. Floating. Then falling. Completely limp in his arms, confirmed by the brazen smile defining his beautiful mouth as soon as he pulled away and stared at me through half-lidded eyes.

“You are a feast fit for a king, Abbigail.”

A new smile quirked my lips. “Whatever you say, Your Majesty.”

“Hmmm . . . ” He stood taller, finally loosening his hold—though not before making me yelp from his possessive smack to my backside. “Glad we’re in agreement.”

I freed a laugh as he slid one of his hands into mine. “Dear God, you’re a piece of work.”

“So I’ve been told.” He tugged me across the room, toward his desk. “A piece of artwork, actually. I think the exact words were ‘a masterpiece carved by the angels.’”

“Now that sounds like one I need to research more. For verification purposes, of course.”

“Of course.” He glanced over his shoulder, the arrogant smile still in place. “And while we’re on the subject of fulfilling that goal . . . ” He sank into the big executive chair, scooting it away from the dinged-up bookcase with practiced grace. In the same motion, he hauled me all the way down into his lap. “There are a few things you need to see here.”

“And a few things I need to feel, as well?” The line popped out before I could help it, courtesy of something else that was popping up from between his thighs. It was a little unnerving, how perfectly his erection notched against my core.

“Oh, yeah . . . ” While his comeback was smooth, his breathing wasn’t. He expelled that ragged air against my lips before clutching my face and compelling me into another tongue-filled tangle. Holy shit, the man did this stuff really well. And the steamy après-kiss stare thing too.

At last, he broke our silence again. “Thank you,” he murmured, cupping his hand to the back of my neck. His fingertips toyed with the ends of my apron ties.

“For what?” I was genuinely curious. Shouldn’t that have been the other way around?

“For . . . ” He stopped, seeming to catch himself. His eyebrows crunched inward. “Well, for letting me haul you all the way back up here.”

I was damn near sure it wasn’t his original pick of confessions, but the acknowledgment was nice. Really nice. “My pleasure. Though I didn’t quite have a choice about it.”