The soft rustle of material told her he was undressing.
She resisted the urge to look and tried to keep her breathing soft and even, though she had no doubt he knew she was awake.
When he made no further sound, she opened her eyes. He faced the fire, his hands on the mantle, knuckles white.
The glow of the flames caressed his bare body, making his skin appear almost golden. Tension knotted his shoulders, and his breathing was rapid. Because of the moon. Because of what she'd done. Because of what they hadn't finished.
Guilt slithered through her, but as she gripped the comforter to toss it aside, he said, 'Don't move.'
She hesitated, then obeyed. 'Why?'
'Because there's something I need to tell you. Something I need to explain.'
Though surprise rippled through her, she said, 'You really don't have to.'
'I do, because you're right. There's something between us, and I need to explain why it can be nothing more than what it already is.'
No explanation could make her believe that. But as the swirl of his emotions began to invade her senses and fill her mind with the echo of his pain, she wasn't so sure.
He hesitated. 'I was seventeen when I met Jacinta.'
His voice was soft, but full of remembered wonder. And suddenly she didn't want to hear any more, because already it was obvious that despite her determination to believe otherwise, this woman still had what she never would. She briefly closed her eyes and fought the urge to scream at fate for putting this man in her path when it was far too late for them to build anything together.
'She was three years older than me and had come to my home town for a skiing vacation with several of her friends. She ended up staying long after they'd left.'
She briefly closed her eyes. 'You don't have to continue.'
'I asked her to marry me,' he said softly. 'She accepted.'
It hurt, though God knew it shouldn't have. Especially since he'd warned her going in — not that she'd ever been one to listen to warnings unless they truly suited her.
Her gaze slid to his hands, and she frowned. He wasn't wearing a wedding ring, and she had a suspicion he still would be if they'd actually married. Especially seeing a werewolf gave his heart for life. 'So what happened?'
His hurt swam around her, deep enough to drown in.
'She didn't know I was a werewolf. I showed her that night.'
'Oh.'
'I wish that was all she'd said.' Bitterness edged the anguish in his voice.
One piece of the puzzle fell into place. 'So that's why you loathe your werewolf half?'
'It lost me the woman I loved. It lost me — ' He stopped and took a deep, shuddering breath.
And she knew then there was far more to this story than what he was admitting now. 'So she wasn't a werewolf herself?'
'No.'
'She never got over the shock of it?'
'No.'
And neither, obviously, had he. She rose from the bed and walked up behind him. He didn't move, didn't react, so she simply put her hands around him and pressed her cheek against his back. He was so tense, his muscles quivered.
'If she loved you, surely she would have eventually seen past that.'
'She got a court order to prevent me going near her.'
The woman was obviously a fool. A fool who didn't know what she had. 'I'm sorry, Ethan.' Sorry for him.
Sorry for them.
He took another shuddering breath, then turned and wrapped his arms around her. 'So am I.'
His breath stirred her hair, brushed warmth past her ear.
His body pressed against hers, filling her with radiant longing. It felt so good. So right.
So how come it could be so wrong?
She lifted her face and met his gaze. The sorrow evident in the brown depths tore at something deep inside her.
There wasn't much she could do about it, except love him in the only way he was willing to accept.
She kissed him. It was a slow and sensual exploration that left them both breathless. He brushed a thumb down her cheek and smiled his sexy smile.
'Shall we retire some place more comfortable?'
She raised an eyebrow. 'You weren't comfortable here last night?'
His smile went up another notch and damn near smoked her insides. 'I'm planning something a little slower than last night, and the bed is definitely more pleasant than a rug on the floor.'
'I suppose if you insist — ' 'I do.'
He swept her off her feet and carried her over to the bed.
He placed her on it gently then stepped back, his gaze rolling languidly down the length of her body. It was a heated caress that sent a shiver of expectation through every part of her. Her nipples hardened, and the pooling heat between her legs became an ache that was almost unbearable. His gaze completed its erotic journey then met hers again, almost drowning her in longing.
'Beautiful,' he murmured, lying down beside her.
From that moment on there was little room for talking.
As he'd promised, their lovemaking this time was a luscious and thorough exploration. Thought became desire, desire became need, and her whole world became this man who swore he couldn't love her.
His touch pushed her into a place where only sensation existed. The air was hot and thick and almost impossible to breathe. Every inch of her quivered beneath the relentless assault of his fingers and tongue. When he finally raised himself above her, she was slick with sweat, burning with pleasure, unable to think, unable to do anything more than feel.
For several seconds he held still, his arms trembling with the effort as their gazes met. Something twisted deep inside her. Ethan might not be able to love her, but he wasn't exactly immune to her, either. There was caring in his eyes.
Slowly, deliberately, he entered her, sliding so very deep, filling her with his rigid heat. The sheer bliss of it had her moaning. He held still again, his lips claiming hers, his kiss passionate and tender.
She wrapped her legs around him and pushed him deeper still. He began to rock, gently at first, touching places that had never been touched before. She could only groan in pleasure as his body drove into hers and the sweet pressure began to build.
He kissed her neck, her shoulders, her breasts, his movements becoming more urgent. The pressure built, curling through her body, until it became a tidal wave that would not be denied. She grabbed his shoulders, her fingers trembling, her nails digging into his flesh.
'Oh… God.' Her voice was little more than a fractured whisper. 'Please…'
He answered her plea, his thrusts powerful and demanding. Her climax came in a rush that stole her breath, stole all thought, and swept her into a world of sheer, unadulterated bliss. A heartbeat later he went rigid against her, the power of his release tearing her name from his throat. He held her for one last thrust, then his lips sought hers, his kiss a lingering taste of heat.
Then he rolled to one side and gathered her into his arms, holding her close as they drifted off to sleep.
It was only later she realized they hadn't used a condom.
