Gone With the Wolf (10 page)

Drake’s expression softened, and once again, Emelia glimpsed the kindhearted Oz behind the ironclad business facade. “If you don’t eat, the transition will only get more difficult to handle. Your body needs fuel.”

“No,” she said, staring at the crisscross patterns in the rug. “It’s more than the transition.”

“You’re a very special woman, Emelia.” Drake set his empty glass on the floor and turned to her, sending waves of chills rolling through her body with a single glance. “If you weren’t already spoken for, I’d show you just how special you are.”

“I don’t know what gave you the impression that I’m spoken for,” Emelia said, “but believe me, on a scale of single to married, I’m beyond hopeless.”

“Your Facebook relationship status says ‘it’s complicated,’ so I assumed—”

“You checked my Facebook?” Emelia felt the first surge of anger like a lightning strike. It was harsh and hard-hitting, lancing through her temples. “You don’t seem like the social media type.”

“Trixie checked for me.”

“I see.”

“I also checked county records,” he said. “You filed for a marriage certificate, but when you applied with the temp agency, you declared that your title was
Miss
Emelia Hudson.” Drake’s tone slipped into accusatory territory. Like she’d kept something from him that she should’ve revealed.

She didn’t owe Drake an explanation of why the marriage didn’t happen or why she’d chosen not to tell anyone at his company. Emelia couldn’t explain why heat surged through her at the mention of her close-call marriage—maybe it was because she’d tried so hard to separate Jackass from anything involving Drake. Or maybe she was more irritable than normal. Whatever the reason, Emelia didn’t care.

She didn’t owe him anything, but she couldn’t hold back.

“I filed for a marriage certificate because I’d planned on getting married,” she spit out the words as if they were poison. “But that didn’t happen when Mr. Jackass decided he’d rather run off into the sunset with one of the strippers at his bachelor party than marry me. He left me to face everyone the next day at the wedding, to tell everyone that my shattered dreams were his amusement, to stare into everyone’s shocked faces. I wasn’t the one who wanted a big wedding in the first place. I told him I wanted to elope, but it’s not like he listened to anything I said anyway. I didn’t change my Facebook because my life is fucking complicated all around, so I thought the tag was more fitting. And if I get asked about him again, someone might lose a head.”

Drake sat in silence, gazing across the room as if he was lost in thought. The eruption of anger felt damned good. Emelia could breathe again. Think again. A weight had been lifted off her shoulders. Still, the tension clenching her stomach remained as intense as ever.

As Drake’s gaze returned to her, Emelia could’ve sworn there were thoughts of murder brewing in it. “I’m sorry for what happened,” he said, his hands clenched into fists at his side. “It’d be my pleasure to hunt down your ex-fiancé and bring him to you.”

“If you hunt him down, kill him while you’re at it,” she said. “Why the hell would I want him brought to me?”

“You accepted a proposal of marriage. Where I come from, he is still yours.”

“That’s absurd.” Emelia laughed, sensing something new emanating from Drake. It reeked of jealousy, knocking her anger off-kilter. “I don’t love him anymore.”

Drake stiffened at her words. “Then that’s something different entirely.”

There it came again—the scent of arousal blooming on the air, overpowering Emelia’s other senses. She could almost taste Drake’s pheromones. They flowed thick and rich into the air, calling her to come closer, coaxing her into submission. Her body responded to Drake on a primal level. Warm wetness pooled between her legs and her nipples hardened, waiting for his touch.

“What can I do?” Drake asked, his voice a velvety husk. “You won’t eat and your temper flares are mild compared to others I’ve seen. You’re taking the transition so much differently than other turned werewolves. I don’t know what you need unless you tell me.”

“I feel like I need…”

Crazy hot sex to drive away every last, irritating thought about her old life—the one where she was angry at the world for dealing her a sour hand.

“What?” he prodded, keeping his distance. “Tell me what you need.”

“I need”—
something hard to pound away the ache
—“to feel.”

As something inside Emelia cracked, she leaped on top of Drake and attacked him with her mouth and hands. Her lips crushed his. Her hands covered his body, neck to chest, to the ridge of his pants. The kiss was hot and intense, dizzying Emelia so much that Drake had to hold her in place with a firm hand against her back. He tasted like warm, buttery scotch and dark temptation. He was everywhere at once—clawing up her back, digging his hands through her hair, plunging his tongue in her mouth. It was sensory overload that drove Emelia to the brink of insanity.

Desperate to eliminate the space between them, Emelia straddled Drake’s middle. Threw her head back and ground her hips against him. As the hard rod of his arousal pressed against her stomach, Emelia groaned and kissed him again. Harder. Deeper. Opened her mouth wide and explored the wet cave beyond his rich, supple lips. They melted together as Emelia raked her fingers through Drake’s hair and pulled him against her, mashing his lips against hers. When she was finished with him, he wouldn’t be able to pry her off with a crowbar.

Chapter Twelve

Molten heat surged through Drake’s bloodstream, mixing with the blooming scent of Emelia’s arousal and the honey-sweet taste of her mouth, creating a cocktail of passion that drugged him senseless. Her lips smothered his. Her tongue sank into his mouth. Tasting. Exploring. She’d always been a terrific kisser—it was all he could think about lately. But now something was different. She kissed him with unbridled passion. Like he wouldn’t be able to stop her if he wanted to.

Stopping didn’t cross his mind.

Throwing her head back, Emelia’s waterfall of golden hair flipped behind her head and her chest arched forward. Drake palmed her milky-white breasts through the shirt, letting the heavy weight of them fill his hands. Two tiny pink nipples pressed against the thin fabric. Oh, they would taste as good as they felt, wouldn’t they? He had to see her, and feel her, flesh against flesh.

“Get this off me,” she ordered, bending down to assault his mouth once more.

She’d sensed exactly what he wanted. Couples usually had to complete the Luminary bond before sensing each other’s rising need…

Drake peeled the shirt over Emelia’s shoulders and outstretched arms, leaving her in nothing but the black lace panties she’d worn beneath her gala dress. They barely separated their mouths to let the shirt pass between them, then attacked each other once more.

“Mmm,” Emelia said, licking her lips as she writhed her hips against him. “You kiss different than you did before. You taste different, too.”

“It’s the transition.”

Drake slid lower, smashing into the cushions, so that he was almost flat beneath her. Her breasts dangled in his face, perfect, soft, and begging to be suckled. Softly, he plucked one of her nipples between his fingers, then caught the other with his mouth. She moaned in response, her skin going flush beneath his tongue.

“Everything you feel will be heightened.” He flicked a tightly budded nipple with his tongue, relishing the throaty moan that escaped Emelia’s lips.

“It’s like I’m waking up,” she said, breathless. She splayed her legs wider over his lap. Until the heat from her center radiated through Drake’s pants. “Like I’m feeling things for the first time. I can sense your hunger.”

“I can feel yours, too. It’s like a craving that’s clawing its way through me.” The words came out as a string of growls, rough and bumpy. He dragged his hands over her back and tugged on the ends of her hair. “I’ll feed your hunger if you’ll let me.”

“Don’t make me beg for it.”

She caught Drake’s lips and slanted her mouth to deepen the kiss, heating his body to dangerous levels. He wouldn’t be able to hold out much longer. His erection throbbed fiercely, hardening to the point of pain. He kneaded her hips and guided them in a slow, grinding rhythm over his lap. The friction only increased his desire to push inside her.

“I’ve hungered for you since the first moment I saw you,” he said as she arched up, rolling her hips over him like a skilled rider.

She was glorious above him, powerful and somehow majestic with her hair falling over her shoulders and her breasts gently bouncing in his face. Soft amber light from the candles on the dresser flickered over Emelia’s tan skin, giving her a radiant glow.

He needed more taste, more feel, more of her hips grinding against him…without the clothes. As Drake possessed her mouth, Emelia ripped his shirt down the middle. Their mouths collided. Buttons flew. She jerked the shirt off his shoulders and groaned into him, leaning down until her breasts smashed against his chest.

Skin to flaming hot skin.
Finally.

Drake quivered with the strength of his need. The raw seduction of her kiss. The way her body spoke to him in a way he’d never thought possible. His heart raced with hers. His breathing hitched with every one of her breathless moans. As warmth pooled between her legs, his shaft swelled and bucked, aching to feel her muscles clench around him.

Emelia was his.

He’d known it the second he touched her in the wine cellar. If it were up to him, and him alone, he would bond with Emelia, claim her as his Luminary, and welcome her like a queen into his pack.

Their lives would be linked. They’d never be apart. Damn the consequences.

But it wasn’t only up to him. Emelia had a choice. Just because she was going to transition into a werewolf didn’t mean she had to bond with him for the rest of her life. And most women wanted children, didn’t they? How would she react when she found out that she would never be able to carry his child to full term?

One step at a time,
he reminded himself. One step at a time.

“Emelia,” he breathed.

“Yes?” She nipped at his earlobe.

“You have a choice in this.”

She hesitated, propping her hands on the back of the couch on either side of his head.

“Oh, you want me to beg? Is that it?”

“No.”
I want you to
stay with me forever.
“I want you to know you have a choice.”

“My choice is you.” She smothered a kiss on his lips. “Right here.” And another. Hotter. Deeper. “Right now. Take me, Drake.” She stroked his shaft through his pants. “Take me before I burst.”

A teasing spirit flittered through him. “Yes, ma’am.”

Looping one of his arms behind her back, Drake grabbed hold of Emelia’s waist and flipped her over in one swift move. She gasped as her head hit the couch cushions and her legs fell apart. Drake kneeled on the floor. Spread her legs apart farther and dove between them. Hooking a finger beneath her damp panties, he gave them a hard yank and tore them in two.

“Hope those weren’t your favorite pair.” He planted a kiss on her center and dragged his tongue through her wet slit.

“No.” She blew out a ragged breath, and curled her hips to meet his mouth.

“I’m sorry,” he said playfully, stopping to meet her heavy-lidded gaze. “Did you say something?”

He flicked her engorged nub with his tongue and watched her thighs tremble.

“Don’t you dare stop.” Grasping fistfuls of his hair, Emelia shoved his face back down into position.

No talking, then. Fine by him.

With a devious spark flaring inside him, Drake shot out his tongue and raked it across her flesh. She tasted better than he could’ve imagined—sugary sweet. Downright delicious. He teased her pleasure spot, biting and nipping. Responding to each of her body’s subtle vibrations. As she began to tremble, Drake palmed her rear and lifted her hips against him. He slipped a finger inside her core, giving her the pressure she craved, while dragging his tongue through her slick folds. When her orgasm hit, she cried out his name and rocked against his mouth, driving him to the edge of his own release.

“You taste sweeter than wine,” he said, wedging his hips between her legs. “I’m going to take you now.”

Her kiss-plumped lips pulled into a smile. “Do you always make an announcement before you come?”

“In my pack, it’s customary when the level of respect for your woman matches your desire.” He planted an openmouthed kiss on her lips that buzzed through his chest. “I’ve only said those words to you.”

“I see.” Her smile widened, lighting the room. “Well? I’m waiting.”

He kicked off his shoes and stripped out of his pants, all the while holding her gaze. As he settled his hips between hers once more, she sat upright and scooted to the very edge of the couch. She grasped his shaft, inhaling sharply when he twitched in her hand. Throbbing as every ounce of blood swelled him tighter than he’d ever been, Drake let his head fall back and his hips push forward.

“You’re huge,” she said, as she stroked him harder, clenching her fist around the long, thick length of him. “Are all werewolves—”

“No, baby,” he interrupted, sweeping his fingers through her center. “Just me.” He licked her succulent juices off his fingers and groaned. He pushed forward, until the head of his erection poised at her drenched core. “You’re so wet. So perfect.”

“Do you have protection?” she asked quietly, her chest heaving with labored breaths.

“No.” Why would he carry around a condom? Diseases didn’t pass from werewolves to humans, and she’d have to be a werewolf in heat to get pregnant. But he couldn’t get into any of that. Not yet. “Do you?”

She nodded and pointed to the foot of the bed where her purse had been laid. “In the inside zipper pocket.”

Drake fished through her purse and found the condom. “So tell me, sweet, innocent Emelia,” he teased, tearing through the foil wrapper. “Were you planning to seduce me after the gala?”

With heavy-lidded eyes, Emelia watched as Drake put on the condom and approached her squirming legs. “I didn’t think it’d hurt to be prepared.”

“What a good girl you are.”

As Drake wedged himself between Emelia’s legs, his veins flooded with heat. She scooted closer to the edge of the couch and lay back, propping her head on the pillows behind her.

“Good?” she said, letting out a shallow hiss of air as the thick head of his erection brushed over her slit. “Don’t you want me to be naughty?”

Holding on to a weakening thread of control, Drake maneuvered slowly, inching himself inside her. When he finally sheathed himself to the hilt, he groaned, clenching his teeth until he thought they would shatter. He had to go gently if he didn’t want to hurt her, but it went against every pounding desire he had. Emelia groaned with him, moving her hips in a rhythm that stroked him from the inside out. She was so tight. A perfect fit.

“I want you,” he mumbled, his jaw going rigid. “I want you in every way.”

As she began to writhe in her own rising pleasure, Drake reached out, splayed his hands over her stomach and massaged her breasts. He continued his path up her body, stroking his hands up her silky-smooth chest and looping them behind her neck. Gently, he grasped the back of her neck and tilted her head so that she could look in his eyes when he came. God, how he wished he could capture this moment. She was breathtaking. Glorious. Heart-stopping.

“Emie. My Emie.” His voice strained hoarse. He was surprised he could speak at all. “Come for me again.”

“Now?” she asked, pushing against the pillows, bucking against him. “You want it now?”

He was drawn so tight, his body clenched with raging need.

“I’m begging.” Drake could feel her inner muscles begin to clench. He hardened into a giant knot, on the verge of climax. What scared him was the reaction that shot through him: the desperate urge to bond with her.

Drake clamped down the primal need, determined to give Emelia the choice first. Being with him physically, matching him like no other could, didn’t mean she wanted to enter into the human equivalent of marriage with him.

“Come back,” she breathed, her mouth falling open as she gasped for air.

Drake thrust into her harder. With all the force he had. “I didn’t go anywhere. Come for me, baby.”

With a resounding push, Emelia crumbled, her inner muscles flexing and releasing, pulsing as the orgasm milked its way through her. Drake continued to thrust, so achingly close to reaching his own jagged peak of release. The world shook before his eyes. Emelia sat up and kissed him, plunging her tongue into his mouth in time with his thrusts.

The pressure building inside Drake became too hot, too great. He exploded, releasing his seed in deliciously sharp spasms that had him crying out her name.

Emelia was his woman. Bonded or not.