Chapter Thirteen
Sarah
I’m barely coherent, but I’m still aware enough of my surroundings to know Mitch has taken me to his beautiful cabin nestled in the deep forest. The rustic timber walls, the rich, earthy scent of cedar permeates every nook and cranny. His scent is everywhere. Sandalwood, and pure spiced masculinity fill my every pore.
The rational part of my brain hazes over as his lips blaze a scorching trail along the column of my throat. His calloused hands roam over the curves of my body with a possessive hunger, the details of our surroundings paling in comparison to the consuming need that burns through me.
I can’t properly describe the savage force that drives through me. The bone-deep compulsion to surrender to this man. To give myself over to the connection that binds us together in ways that defy comprehension.
So I don’t.
Instead, I kiss him back with a desperation that borders on feverish, my fingers tangling in the soft strands of his hair as I press against the hard planes of his body with the unforgiving wall at my back.
Mitch growls against my lips, a rumbling sound that resonates deep within my core, erupting flames of desire that threaten to consume me. And then, without warning, he sweeps me into his arms, carrying me up the stairs with long, purposeful strides.
“So beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that sends shivers of awareness racing down my spine. “My mate, my everything.”
The word hangs heavy in the air between us, laden with a weight and significance that resonates deep within the depths of my soul.
Mate.
A possessive endearment, a declaration of ownership and belonging that should send alarm bells ringing through me. But instead, I find myself melting into his embrace, surrendering to the profound rightness of whatever it is that filters through me.
He takes me into a room and I glimpse a huge bed made up with a deep blue, soft duvet, limned in silvery moonlight. He guides me to the mattress and follows me down so that I’m on my back beneath him. Mitch’s hands feathers over me, mapping the terrain of my body with a reverence that leaves me breathless.
More.
I ache for more.
I don’t realize I’ve actually spoken until his eyes flare with heat. “Whatever you want, sweetheart. Whatever you need.”
He kisses me deeply, tongue sweeping between my parted lips. The taste of him is more potent than his scent.
“May I…may I touch you?” he rasps, his voice low and gravelly with barely restrained desire as his smoldering gaze finds mine, silently seeking permission.
“Yes!” There is no second guessing. No regrets making me think again.
With trembling fingers, Mitch glides his hands beneath the hem of my shirt, his calloused palms brushing against the soft swell of my breasts. A shudder of pure, unadulterated need ripples through me at his feather-light touch, causing my nipples to bead into tight, aching peaks.
He slides my shirt from my shoulders and off my body, his movements slow and reverent. As though I’m precious. Someone to be treasured. The fabric falls away, baring my flesh to his searing appraisal, and I flush beneath the weight of his regard because I’m not society”s perfect ideal of what a woman should look like. I’m not paper thin. I have breasts. And hips. And my stomach and thighs are soft.
His gaze roams over every inch of exposed skin, drinking in the sight of me with an intensity that borders on possession. There’s no judgment in his eyes, only naked longing that steals the breath from my lungs.
“Beautiful,” he murmurs, the word a hushed exhalation laced with a hint of awe, as if he can scarcely believe that I’m real, that I’m here in his arms.
His hands tremble as they ghost over the swell of my breasts, the pads of his fingers trailing feather-light paths that ignite trails of liquid fire in their wake. I arch into his touch with a needy whimper, pleading for more.
With a low, rumbling growl that resonates deep within my core, he lowers his head, his lips trailing a blazing path along the valley between my breasts. And then, without warning, he captures one taut peak between his lips, his tongue swirling over the sensitive bud in a way that has me crying out in pleasure.
“Mate,” he growls, the word a primal incantation that sends a shudder of pure, unadulterated need rippling through me. “Mine.”
For a fleeting moment, his eyes glow with an otherworldly light. Golden light swamps his face and over my body. But then he blinks, and the strange luminescence is gone, leaving me to wonder if it was nothing more than a trick of the light or a figment of my overactive imagination.
Not that it matters, not when his mouth is trailing a path along my neck and over my chin to capture my mouth again while his hands tease first one breast and then the other.
A fleeting thought of Mark tries to intrude, a lingering shadow of heartache and betrayal, but it’s quickly swept away, as Mitch groans against my lips and his hand trails down between my thighs.
My legs fall apart when he slides his fingers along the seam of my jeans and grinds the heel of his palm against my clit. Suddenly my jeans are too tight. Too restrictive. I need to feel him. Skin to skin. Everywhere.
I gasp against Mitch’s lips and fumble with my buttons. “Need…them off.”
Mitch rears over me and helps slide my jeans off my hips and down my legs, capturing my underwear at the same time, before he tugs them off. His eyes float down my body to rest between my thighs with a weighted stare.
I’m so wet, I’m slick, and with a boldness that comes from nowhere, I part my thighs, a needy whine working up my throat. “Please.”
He doesn’t need to be asked twice. He bends over, easing his broad shoulders between my parted legs to stretch me wider. I should be embarrassed. I should be ashamed that his face is right there, but I’m so aroused all I feel is an overwhelming need for him to touch me.
The word mate echoes through my mind, growing louder and more insistent with each stroke, until it’s a resounding cadence that reverberates through every part of me.
He murmurs something under his breath before he leans. His fingers ghost along the sensitive skin of my inner thighs, a move that has me clenching my core with need.
And then, without preamble, his mouth is on me, his tongue swirling over the slick folds of my sex in a way that has me keening with pleasure. I fist my hands in the sheets, my back arching as he sucks my aching bud into the scorching heat of his mouth, his fingers simultaneously easing into my entrance with a delicious stretch.
The sensations are overwhelming, a maelstrom of desire and unbridled ecstasy robbing me of coherent thought. All I can focus on is the way his tongue works me, the way his fingers curl and stroke against that hidden bundle of nerves that has me teetering on the precipice of oblivion.
It builds within me, a crescendo of pleasure that tightens every fiber of my being, until finally, with a guttural cry, I shatter. Waves of pure, unadulterated bliss crash over me, leaving me trembling and utterly undone.
Mitch doesn’t relent, doesn’t give me a moment to catch my breath before he surges up my body, his lips claiming mine in a searing kiss that tastes of musky desire and raw need.
The hard length of his arousal nestles against the slick heat of my core. I wind my legs around his waist, cradling his hips between my thighs as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.
“Please. I need you, Mitch. All of you,” I whisper.
“You have me, sweetheart.”
He quickly undresses and with a low, rumbling moan, Mitch begins to ease into me, his thick length stretching and filling me in a way that has me arching into his embrace with a needy whimper.
He moves in and out, slowly working his way inside my body. As he sheaths himself to the hilt, his hips cradled snugly against mine, a sense of rightness washes over me. His gaze locks onto mine and as we simply exist in this moment another piece of myself clicks into place.
A flicker of something more lurks in the depths of his eyes. For a fleeting instant, I see another pair of glowing, amber eyes peering back at me at the same time. His chest rumbles and vibrations filter right through me.
“What…”
Then Mitch begins to move, his hips rolling in a slow, sensual rhythm that has me gasping and forgetting everything except the pleasure building inside me.
I cling to him, my nails raking down the corded muscles of his back as I match his movements with a desperation that borders on feverish. Sensation builds within me, and as Mitch’s movements grow more urgent and I hurtle toward the edge of oblivion.
With a guttural cry, I shatter apart. Mitch follows me over the precipice mere heartbeats later, his body going rigid as he empties himself deep within me.
And as the world around us slowly bleeds back into focus, as the last tremors of our shared release slowly ebb away, I can’t help but feel a sense of rightness, of completeness that has never been in my life before.
Mitch gathers me into his embrace, our bodies shifting until we’re lying on our sides, facing one another while he stays lodged deep inside me. His arms encircle me, drawing me flush against the hard planes of his chest as we catch our breath, our skin slick with perspiration.
For several long moments, we simply exist in that cocoon of intimacy. There’s no need for words, no urgency to shatter the tranquility that settles over us. His fingers run through my hair, over my back, hips, legs. My muscles relax and sleep begins to pull me under until Mitch’s deep voice breaks the silence. “Sarah, there’s…something I need to tell you. Something important.”
A tendril of unease snakes its way through my haze of contentment. Every muscle in my body tightens.
He’s going to tell me something I don’t want to hear.
I should have known better.
Nothing this good ever lasts.
He really is too good to be true. A bolt of pure, unadulterated panic lances though me. This is where he tells me he has a wife. Or that he needs someone who loves him for a life-saving kidney operation. Whatever it is, it’s going to change the course of my life forever.
Again.
I have to resist the urge to recoil from his embrace, to put as much distance between us as possible in a desperate bid to protect what little remains of my fractured heart.
I won’t survive this.
“Sarah, I’m really a…” Before he can finish the words, his muscles coil tight as his gaze takes on a faraway, haunted quality.
Panic flares within me, sharp and insistent, and I reach out to him on instinct, my fingers brushing against the hard planes of his chest. “Mitch?” I whisper, my voice trembling with a mixture of concern and trepidation. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
For a heartbeat, he doesn’t respond, his expression one of intense concentration before his gaze snaps back into focus.
“I have to go,” he rasps, the words laced with a hint of regret and something darker.
Before I can formulate a response, before I can give voice to the thousands of questions that swirl through my mind, he’s extracting himself from our intimate embrace and rising from the bed in a fluid motion.
“Stay here,” he instructs, his tone brooking no argument as he moves about the room with purposeful strides, gathering his discarded clothing with efficient movements. “Don’t open the door for anyone, no matter what. I’ll be back as soon as I can, but you have to promise me you won’t go outside.”
“O…okay.” I’m too stunned by the abrupt shift in his demeanor to offer any sort of coherent response. In the span of mere heartbeats, the man who had been worshipping my body with such reverence, has transformed into a stranger–a force of nature whose very presence crackles with an undercurrent of barely restrained power.
Just like a wild wolf.
And as he turns to go, pausing only to press a searing kiss to my brow, I can’t help but feel a tendril of unease snake its way through me. Whatever has called him away, whatever unseen force has him teetering on the edge of some precipice that I don’t understand, I fear it will be far more profound than I could ever imagine.
And when he returns, when the truth is finally laid bare, will anything in my world will ever be the same again?