Page 11 of Enchanted
She broke off, charmed and baffled when he simply swung around and stalked through the doorway. She followed to see him walk to the fire, settle himself, then look back at her as if waiting.
“Smart, aren’t you?” she murmured. “Very smart.” As she approached cautiously, his gaze never left her face. She lowered herself to the ottoman. “Do you belong to anyone?” She lifted her hand, her fingers itching to touch. She waited for a growl, a snarl, a warning, and when none came she lightly laid her hand on his head. “No, you wouldn’t belong to anyone but yourself. That’s how it is for the brave and the beautiful.”
When her fingers stroked down to his neck, rubbing gently, his eyes narrowed. She thought she recognized pleasure in them and smiled a little. “You like that? Me, too. Touching’s as good as being touched, and no one’s really touched me for so long. But you don’t want to hear the story of my life. It’s not very interesting. Yours would be,” she mused. “I bet you’d have fascinating tales to tell.”
He smelled of the forest, of the rain. Of animal. And, oddly, of something … familiar. She grew bolder, running her hands down his back, over his flanks, back to his head. “You’ll dry here by the fire,” she began; thenher hand paused in midstroke, and her brows drew together.
“He wasn’t wet,” she said quietly. “He came through the rain, but he wasn’t wet. Was he?” Puzzled, she stared out the dark window. Liam’s hair was as black as the wolf’s fur, but it hadn’t gleamed with rain or damp. Had it?
“How could that be? Even if he’d driven over, he had to get from the car to the door, and …”
She trailed off when the wolf moved closer, when his handsome head nuzzled her thigh. With a murmur of pleasure, she began to stroke him again, grinning when the rumble in his throat reminded her of a very human, very male sound of approval.
“Maybe you’re lonely, too.”
And she sat with him while the storm shifted out to sea, the thunder quieted and the whips of rain and wind turned to soft patters.
It didn’t surprise her that he walked through the house with her. Somehow it seemed perfectly natural that he would accompany her as she blew out candles, switched off lights. He climbed the stairs with her and sat by her side as she lit the bedroom fire.
“I love it here,” she murmured, sitting back on her heels to watch the flames catch. “Even when I’m lonely, like I was tonight, it feels right being here. As if I’ve always needed to come to this place.”
She turned her head, smiled a little. They were eye to eye now, deep blue to dark gold. Reaching out, she skimmed her hand under his powerful jaw, rubbing the silky line of his throat. “No one would believe me. No one I know would believe me if I told them I was in a cabin in Oregon talking to a big, black, gorgeous wolf. And maybe I’m just dreaming. I do a lot of that,” she added as she rose. “Maybe everyone’s right and I do too much dreaming.”
She crossed to the dresser and took a pair of pajamas from the drawer. “I guess it’s pretty pitiful when your dreams are the most interesting part of your life. I really want to change that. I don’t mean I have to climb mountains or jump out of planes …”
He stopped listening—and he had listened all along. But now, as she spoke, she tugged the navy sweatshirtshe wore over her head and began to unbutton the simple plaid shirt beneath.
He stopped hearing the words as she slipped the shirt off, stood folding the sweatshirt, wearing only a lacy white bra and jeans.
She was small and slender, her skin milk-pale. Her jeans bagged a bit at the waist, making the man inside the wolf nearly groan as her fingers reached for the button. His blood warmed, his pulse quickened as she let the denim slide carelessly down her legs.
The swatch of white rode low on her hips. He wanted his mouth there, just there along that lovely curve. To taste the flesh, to feel the shape of bone. And to slide his tongue under the white until she quivered.
She sat, tugging off her socks, shaking her feet free of the jeans. And nearly drove him mad as she stood to lay them aside.
The low growl in his throat went unnoticed by both of them as she unhooked her bra in an innocent striptease. He felt his control slipping as he imagined cupping his hands there, over small white breasts, skimming his thumbs over pale pink nipples.
Lowering his head until his mouth was—
The sudden violent slash of lightning had her jumping, muffling a scream. “God! The storm must be coming back. I thought …” She stopped in midsentence as she glanced over, saw those gold eyes glinting. In an instinctive gesture, she crossed her arms over her naked breasts. Beneath them, her heart bounced like a rabbit.
His eyes looked so … human, she thought with a quick panic. The expression in them hungry. “Why do I suddenly feel like Little Red Riding Hood?” She eased out a breath, drew in another. “That’s just foolish.” But her voice wasn’t quite steady as she made the grab for her pajama top. She made a little squeak of surprise when he caught the dangling sleeve in his teeth and dragged it away.
A laugh bubbled up and out. She grabbed the collar of the flannel, pulled. The quick, unexpected tug-of-war made her laugh again. “You think it’s funny?” she demanded. Damned if she didn’t see amusement in those fascinating eyes. “I just bought these. They may not be pretty, but they’re warm— and it’s cold in here. Now let go!”
When he did, abruptly, she stumbled back two paces before she caught her balance. Wonderfully naked but for that triangle at her hips, she narrowed her eyes at him. “A real joker, aren’t you?” She held the top up, searching for tears or teeth marks, and found none. “Well, at least you didn’t eat it”
He watched her slip it on, button it. There was something erotic even in that, in the way the brightly patterned flannel skimmed her thighs. But before she could pull on the bottoms, he pleased himself by shifting his head, running his tongue from her ankle to the back of her knee.
She chuckled, bent down to scratch his ears as though he were the family dog. “I like you, too.” After pulling the bottoms on, she reached up to loosen what was left of her braid. As she reached for her brush, the wolf padded over to the bed, leaped up and stretched out at the foot.
“Oh, I don’t think so.” Amused, she turned, running the brush through her hair. “I really don’t. You’ll have to get down from there.”
He watched her unblinkingly. She would have sworn he smiled. Huffing out a breath, she shook her hair back, set the brush aside, then walked to the side of the bed. In her best teacher’s voice, she ordered him down and pointed meaningfully at the floor.
This time sheknewhe smiled.
“You’re not sleeping in the bed.” She reached out, intending to pull him off. But when he bared his teeth, she cleared her throat. “Well, one night. What could it hurt?”
