Page 60 of The Fated Hunter Wolf
Her shirt shifted, and that’s when I saw the fabric was torn from the fight outside, a long rip down one side that exposed the pale skin of her waist, her ribs, and her breast. In the light of the fire, her nipple moved up and down with her breaths, and it was getting faster.
My free hand moved without conscious thought, fingers tracing the edges of the torn shirt. Her skin was smooth under my touch, and she shivered at the contact despite her supernatural composure.
I couldn’t stop myself. My hand slid up her side, thumb brushing the underside of her breast. She sucked in a sharp breath, her back arching slightly into the touch.
Her hair had come loose during the fight, wild strands framing her face. I tangled my fingers in it, silk against my palm, and used my grip to tilt her head back. Her lips parted, and I could see her pulse jumping in her throat.
The scent of her wrapped around me—that wild honey and rain—but underneath was the primal aroma I lived for. Arousal. My wolf was going crazy, demanding I claim what was mine, mark her, make sure she could never leave again.
The man in me wanted to savor this. The way she trembled under my hands, the soft sounds she made when I touched her, the fact that she was letting me see her like this—vulnerable and wanting.
Her careful mask had completely slipped, showing me a raw and hungry woman underneath.
“Rhys,” she whispered, but she didn’t move away.
“I’m telling you, I don’t care.”
“You should care,” she said. Her voice was breathless. “I should run away from you. And you should do the same from me.”
Even as she said it, she was leaning into my touch, her body betraying her words.
“Should I?”
She moved between my legs, close enough that I could feel new heat radiating from her skin. Her hands came up to rest on my chest, and through my shirt, I could feel how they trembled.
“Yeah, you should,” she said.
“Too late.”
And then I was done talking.
22
SABLE
Rhys took my cheek in his hand, caressing me with his thumb. While our lips were tentative at first—clearly both of us were wondering whether this really was happening—the instant his mouth was on mine, every doubt disappeared.
We were devouring each other.
When his lips crashed into me, it was nothing like I’d imagined. There was no hesitation, no soft exploration. It was pure and unending. He moved with desperate hunger, like he’d been starving for the taste of me, and I couldn’t stop the broken sound that tore from my throat.
Everything in me screamed at me to put distance between us, but my body refused to move. He made my wolf whine with need.
“Sable.” My name on his lips evoked a gasp from me, and I hoped he couldn’t scent the wetness between my legs. My wolf hoped he did.
Shadow Moon Goddess, what is he doing to me?
My hands made fists in his shirt, torn between pushing him away and pulling him closer. His arms banded around my waist, lifting me until I was standing and pressed against the cave wall.The contrast—his solid warmth against my front, the cold of rock against my back—sent heat spiraling through my core.
“I can’t—” I gasped against his mouth. He swallowed the words, his kiss turning fierce, possessive.
His body caged me in, and I felt small against his strength. It made something wild and wanting unfurl in my chest. When his lips trailed to my throat, finding that sensitive spot where my pulse hammered against my skin, I arched into him helplessly.
“You taste like sin,” he growled against my neck, his voice rough with need. His teeth scraped along my collarbone, and I dug my nails into his shoulders, holding on as the sensations threatened to drown me.
This is madness.It’s everything I swore I’d never allow.
When his mouth returned to mine with bruising intensity, his hands sliding down to grip my thighs, I realized I was already falling.
