Page 62 of Big Bad Wolfe

He’d totally lost his iron grip on control. Which had shattered her control as well. Her Big Bad Wolfe had easily persuaded her to hand over all her goodies. Despite her casual pretense with Zane, she didn’t have a whole lot of experience. She’d only gotten physical with a few men after establishing a committed relationship, and while sex had been quite pleasant, she’d never before been instantly flung into a fast, wild, all-consuming orgasm. She’d never taken charge during lovemaking either, never felt uninhibited enough to experiment much—or pursue the intimate act she did to him in the shower to completion.

It’d beenfantastic.

She had no idea how or why, but in an unnerving way, she still felt linked not only to Zane’s body, but his thoughts as well. Her stomach clutched. Why Zane Wolfe? Why did her body and heart yearn for a man who was terrified of intimacy, of family—of the entire future she wanted?

How had he so quickly become an integral part of her life?

Sitting up, she saw no sign of him in the cabin or empty bathroom beyond. He wouldn’t desert her after giving his word, so he’d likely gone for a run in an effort to burn off some of the previous night’s angst.

Zane was damaged, with good reason. And while she fully believed he had the potential to change, while she had hope her faith would become fact, she had to admit there was a chance it wouldn’t happen.

She blinked back a surge of unwelcome tears. She’d claimed to barely know the man she’d married, but she knew all she needed to. Zane possessed integrity and courage. Wry humor and innate kindness. Gritty determination and bone-deep loyalty.

She prayed his fortitude would be strong enough—with her help—to heal his wounds and overcome the past.

And she missed him. The charming honeymoon cottage seemed flat and uninspiring without his powerful presence. Rubbing damp eyes, she clambered out of bed, staggered into the bathroom. A pale, bleary woman stared back at her from the mirror.

Becoming dependent on Zane was asking for trouble. Clinging to him, smothering him would drive him away so fast he’d break a land-speed record. He needed time. Patience. And she needed to maintain the nonchalant worldly woman charade she’d begun last night. Another sigh escaped. Too bad she was crappy at charades.

Jillian tilted her head to the left, studying several small love bites on the curve of her neck. Her stomach swooped in delight, which made her feel way too high school for comfort.

She briskly slapped color into her cheeks, trying to fully wake up. God, she needed coffee.

She took a fast, scalding shower, attempting in vain to block the arousing memory of kneeling between Zane’s spread thighs while his hard-muscled body quaked beneath her hands, and his smooth, thick shaft pumped into her mouth.

Girl, you need a double shot of caffeine … and an extra-tall glass of reality.

After drying off, she put on her coral thong, topped by blue-and-white striped capris and a white lace bra beneath a capped-sleeve vintage white-eyelet blouse with a v-shaped collar. Light makeup before she donned her pearls, wrapping the strands three times around her neck like a choker with only a slight double drop beneath. The less formal style—mostly—covered the evidence of Zane’s passion. Damp hair French-braided and fastened with a blue butterfly band, feet clad in woven jute sandals, she headed into the evergreen-scented, sun-washed morning and strolled toward the main lodge.

A half-dozen couples occupied the airy dining room with floor-to-ceiling windows framing the magnificent emerald old-growth forest. Optimistic that she’d be joined sooner or later by Mia and Dallas, and her reluctant husband, Jillian asked the server to seat her at a table for four and requested a pot of coffee.

She’d finished her first cup before Dallas arrived with his wife. Despite Mia’s cheery yellow sundress, the previously vibrant woman was pale and withdrawn, brunette hair tousled. Stony-faced, she stumbled in the wrong direction and Dallas gently steered her to the table and helped her sit down.

Jillian poured a tumbler of ice water from the crystal pitcher the server had brought with the coffee. She placed it in front of the dazed woman. “Oh dear. Morning sickness?”

Dallas uttered a low, rumbling chuckle. “No. Sweet Thing is allergic toallmornings. After some breakfast, she’ll perk right up.” Discerning cobalt eyes studied Jillian, assessed the empty chair at her side. “Zane running behind?”

Zane’s best friend would know good and well he was as prompt as the sunrise. Dallas was really asking if her new husband had bolted.

“He’ll be along eventually,” she said with utter confidence. Zane fully understood the high stakes riding on their ability to convince everyone they were besotted newlyweds. He wouldn’t fail her, or Casey. “But let’s go ahead and order, I want Mia to feel better.”

They placed their orders. Mia was on her second glass of orange juice and Dallas and Jillian had each poured more coffee when Zane finally stalked into the dining area. Button-fly Levi’s snugged his perfect, tight butt, topped by a pine green button-down shirt with the long sleeves rolled up on sinewed forearms. His thick raven hair was damp, his chiseled chin and square jaw freshly shaved … and set in resolute determination. Aviator shades hid his eyes.

The air around him shimmered with alpha male pheromones. He prowled to their table with silent grace, a big untamed animal exuding molten, dangerous sex appeal.

A lightning bolt of desire made Jillian’s heart stutter, and her suddenly trembling fingers tightened in a death grip on her mug.

Who needed caffeine when she had Zane?

Dallas arched a challenging brow. “Hey, Wolfe. Better late than never.”

“Bite me, McQuade.” Zane claimed the chair beside Jillian.

The alluring heat of his body and compelling masculine scent electrified her senses, and she gulped a scalding drink of coffee.

Dallas’ amused glance briefly flicked to Jillian’s neck. As she flushed, the tall cowboy grinned. “Appreciate the offer, but don’t think I need to.”

Zane slid off his sunglasses, laid them on the table and turned to look at Jillian. His warm brown gaze stroked down her neck, lingered on the love bites, stroked back up to lock on hers. Crackling awareness arced between them and she knew he was remembering his mouth on her there while he thrust his long fingers deep inside her.

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