Page 33 of A Wolf's Treasure
Withdrawing them slowly, she moaned as he put his fingers into his mouth and sucked, tasting her. Ryanne watched as he licked them clean like she was the best thing to ever hit his tongue, his glowing eyes drilling into hers as he did so until she was unable to look away.
Ryanne couldn’t wait anymore. She wanted him inside of her. And she wanted him right now. Reaching between them, she found the fastening of his jeans and tore it open with shaking fingers.
Duncan suddenly stiffened beneath her. Fast as a striking snake his hand grabbed her wrist and pulled it away. He looked away, his eyes shut tight and his features twisted in pain.
At first, she thought she’d hurt him. A male’s reproductive organs could be very sensitive.
But no, that wasn’t it, was it?
Eyes still closed, as though he could hide the whirlwind of emotions raging through him, he whispered, “Lass, I can no’.”
Ryanne stilled.
Oh.
Oh.
This is what he’d been trying to tell her. And she’d been stupid not to listen to him. She’d put him in this position, forcing him to admit something to her he obviously wasn’t comfortable sharing.Shewas the one causing him this pain. “What happened to you?” The words came out before she could hold them back. But now that the question was asked, she truly wanted to know.
“I dinna want tae speak o’ it tae ye.” He opened his eyes, but wouldn’t look at her, instead turning his head to stare at the window, fogged over from the rain and their heavy breathing. Blood rose to the surface, coloring his neck and cheeks, but he held his chin high. “It’s no’ something I can…I dinna…it was during th’ war…”
Oh, my gods. “Shhh. You don’t have to tell me.” And he didn’t. Ryanne knew what her people were capable of. The question was, had they physically deformed him? Or just mentally? Sometimes the second option was more fun for them. And if that was the case, then there was hope that it could be overcome. “Duncan?”
“Aye,” he answered, but he was gone. He wasn’t with her anymore. Even though he was right there.
“May I still touch you?”
A shuddering breath went through him.
“Please?”
“Why would ye want tae do that when ye ken it will no’ work?”
Ah. If she was reading his response correctly, his battle scars were mental. That was good. And bad. “I just want to feel you. To be close to you as you’ve been to me.” She wouldn’t force things anymore. It was important he didn’t feel any more anxious than he already did.
His fingers dug into the sides of her hips, but he gave her a quick nod of consent.
Ryanne kissed his cheek, feeling the heat of his shame beneath her lips. It only made her more determined. This kind, beautiful male had nothing to feel ashamed about. Nothing at all.
Making her way to his lips, she kissed him until he responded. Until he was moaning with need. Need that she now knew was for an act of intimacy he believed was completely out of his reach. Ryanne slid her hands beneath his shirt. Warm skin over hard ridges of muscle that tightened everywhere she touched. Higher, she found the soft hair in the center of his chest. Just enough to feel masculine. She ran her fingers through the soft curls, wishing she could feel the softness of them against her bare breasts. Edging upward to his shoulders, she took his shirt with her, lifting it up and over his head.
Duncan groaned when their lips parted but lifted his arms so she could pull it off.
Ryanne leaned back, her appreciative gaze touching everywhere her hands had been.
Beautiful wasn’t the word to describe him.
Duncan was masculine perfection. Thick shoulders. Muscular biceps and forearms. Flat stomach. Not an ounce of extra flesh. Hard and powerful. The kind of male who could protect you from any threat.
The ache of desire low in her belly that had never completely gone away flared to life. “You’re beautiful,” she told him as she ran her hands over his powerful shoulders and biceps, only to return to his chest and slide down his abdomen. “Perfect. Like the gods created you just for me.”
“Maybe at one time, lass. But no’ now.”
He moaned when her lips returned to his throat. Kissing. Biting. Everywhere she could reach. He tasted slightly salty, like the breeze by the ocean. But richer, and with a hint of the feral creature he was.
When her hands returned to the fastening of his pants, he stiffened. But Ryanne murmured words of reassurance, telling him of her need to be close to him. To touch him. To feel him against her.
Unable to deny her, his hands fell to her thighs, where they rested as she worked. Opening his jeans, Ryanne urged him to lift off the seat and shoved them as far down as she could.
