He placed the two platters on the table, then met her gaze. His dark eyes were shuttered, his face shadowed. If not for the hunger that burned through the night, she might have thought him immune to the moon fever and her.
So why was he even with her? Especially when Betise was at the mansion? It didn't make sense, particularly given the loathing she'd sensed in him earlier. Or was there more to the story than what
Betise had said? Did Duncan celebrate the rising of the moon with casual partners because he had no other choice? Had she turned away from him rather than him her? She didn't know, and she suspected he wouldn't tell her if she asked.
He pressed her knees open then stepped between her legs and pulled her close. Her breasts were lightly squashed against his chest, and she could feel the wild thumping of his heart. Could feel the heat radiating off his skin, surrounding her in a furnace that was desire. 'Anything else you want?'
His breath caressed her lips, and a tremor ran through her. 'A knife to cut the bread would be good.'
'And a soda?'
She nodded. She couldn't do anything else because her voice seemed to have fled.
His mouth brushed hers, a tingling, tantalizing promise of what was to come, then he stepped back and returned to the refrigerator. 'Ice?'
Again she nodded. Within seconds, he was back with two drinks and a bread knife. He cut several slices of bread, offering one to her as he slid the meat platter closer. She made herself a sandwich and ate it, her skin tingling with awareness as his gaze did a slow tour of her body. She finished her drink and put the glass down on the bench. The remaining ice clinked softly, a sound that seemed to reverberate in the tense, overheated silence. Or maybe it was just she who was overheated. He stepped closer again. She instinctively inched back. A smile touched his sensual lips, and he reached out, gently running his fingers down her neck and across her shoulder, displacing the thin strap of her dress as he continued on down her arm.
She swallowed, but it didn't seem to help the dryness in her throat. Didn't seem to help the dizzy tripping of her pulse. He was far too close. All she could smell was the earthy spice of him, all she could feel were his breath on her skin and the caress of his hand. And all she wanted was to feel him inside.
It was crazy. Totally and utterly crazy. For seemingly no good reason, this man had, at the very least, forever altered her relationship with her parents. And while that might have happened eventually, it was a change she hadn't been prepared to deal with just yet. Especially when the man by her side was
Duncan--a wolf so totally opposite to everything she wanted in a mate.
But the moon was burning through her veins, and at this particular moment she didn't care who he was or what he'd done. In all the years since puberty she'd never felt anything this strong. And that in itself was a scary thought. But maybe it was nothing more than a combination of the moon and being in the presence of a wolf well versed in the art of seduction. His fingers slipped back up her arm and across to her other shoulder. The second strap slid down her arm, and her breath caught as her dress shimmied to her waist. His gaze met hers, and in those dark depths she saw a desire so intense it made her squirm.
'You feel hot,' he murmured, leaning forward to brush the line of her neck with feather soft kisses. She closed her eyes, enjoying the sensation. 'It's warm in the kitchen.'
'Very warm. Perhaps we should try to cool you a little.' The glass clinked again, and she opened her eyes. 'Ice is not a good idea.'
He raised an eyebrow, a smile teasing his lips. 'Really?' He ran his hand up her arm, the cube of ice trapped in his palm. The momentary chill of the ice was quickly lost to the heat of his touch, and the overall sensation was incredibly arousing.
His hand reached her chest and moved down. She tensed, her breath catching in her throat. The cube skimmed one breast, then the other, and she gasped, jerking back from his touch. He chuckled, then his mouth enclosed on one hard nub, and she forgot the chill, forgot everything, and simply enjoyed as he sucked and nipped. When she was all but squirming with need, he continued on, past her breasts, down toward her stomach. The ice had become little more than droplets of water running past the heat of his fingers, quickly soaked up by the folds of her dress. But the silky material provided no barrier to his hand, and as his fingers slid into her moist heat, she groaned and leaned back, giving him greater access.
'You want me, little wolf. Say it.'
'No.' It was obvious that she wanted him, but she was never going to admit it. Because if she admitted that she'd have to admit just how badly he affected her. And that was one pleasure she refused to give him. 'What harm is there in admitting you have needs like everyone else?'
He continued to slide a finger through her moistness, every stroke providing just the right amount of pressure. Ripples of pleasure radiated across her body. 'Great harm,' she somehow managed to croak, 'when the man who asks seems intent on destroying my life.'
'Freedom always has its price.' He leaned forward, nuzzling her ear, nipping lightly at her earlobe, all the while continuing his gentle, insistent stroking, sending her insane with need.
'I didn't come here to find freedom.' Did she say the words out loud or merely in her mind?
His tongue skimmed her skin, trailing fire down to her breasts. When he flicked one aching nipple with that rough moistness, she shuddered and thrust toward him, wanting to feel more than just his tongue on her breasts. He chuckled softly and captured them in both his hands, lightly pushing them together. His gaze held hers as he ran his tongue from one aching nub to the other. She shuddered and shifted, not sure how much more sweet torment she could take.
'What did you come here to find, then?' he said softly. You, she thought. Only he'd turned out to be a whole lot more dangerous than she'd ever imagined. 'Not this.'
'Then what?' He lightly nipped one nipple, then the other, and sweat prickled across her skin. Her heart was hammering so loudly its cadence seemed to fill the silence, and every muscle in her body was quivering. Aching. For him.
'I was just curious. Nothing more, nothing less. I never meant for this to happen.'
'You're lying, little wolf.'
And the fact that he sensed it was scary, because it meant he was reading her far better than she was reading him.
'I'm not lying,' she said, almost desperately. He released her breasts, and his fingers slipped into her moistness again. She gasped, arching into his touch. 'You will tell me the truth, you know. And before this night is over.'
Mutely, she shook her head. His steady stroking was taking her higher and higher, until the need for him was so strong her whole body was shaking and she could barely even breathe.
The sound of a zipper being pulled down was almost lost in the frantic beating of her heart. Anticipation raced through her.
He pulled her closer, but nowhere near close enough. The quivering tip of him pressed against her moist heat, but went no further. His hands slid to her rear, cupping her lightly. The effort of control had him trembling, and she wondered what, exactly, he thought she was up to. Perhaps she should tell him why she was here. But if she did, she had no doubt he'd force her from the mansion. These murders fell under the category of pack business, and he'd already made it perfectly clear he had no intention of letting outsiders get involved in such matters--that included not only her, but the police as well. And if she told him, she'd have basically destroyed her life for no damn reason at all. At least by withholding the truth a little bit longer, she had a chance of discovering something--anything--that might give her a clue as to the murderer's identity.
She'd made her promise. She intended to stick to it. Though in many ways, she had no other choice now.
His hands tightened on her rump, pulling her forward.
His hardness slipped inside a little more, and it felt so good she moaned.
'Tell me what you seek, Neva.' His words were harsh, his breathing heavy. He was punishing himself as much as he was her.
She shook her head and knew she had to end this before the need for release overwhelmed common sense and loosened her tongue. She wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled herself forward, taking him deep inside.
He groaned and began to move, his strokes quickly becoming fierce, hungry thrusts that shook her entire
