Chapter 22 #2
The cool air hit her heated skin, but she barely noticed.
His mouth was on her throat now, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down to the swell of her breasts, finding a taut peak and drawing it deep into the heat of his mouth.
His claws—those deadly claws he was always so careful with—traced featherlight patterns on her sides, raising goosebumps in their wake.
“Beautiful,” he murmured against her skin. “So goddamn beautiful.”
“You’re still dressed.” Her fingers fumbled with his shirt, too desperate to manage the buttons properly. “Off. Now.”
He laughed—low and dark and full of promise—and obliged her, sitting back just long enough to pull the shirt over his head. The dim light caught the planes of his chest, the silvery fur that covered his torso, the hard muscle shifting beneath.
Mine, she thought with fierce satisfaction. All mine.
His hands went to the desk, bracing on either side of her head as he leaned in, caging her. She watched him, her breath catching, as his nose twitched, his ears swiveling as he scented the air around her.
“You’re…” He swallowed hard. “God, Sara.”
“Ben?”
“You’re everywhere.” His eyes were wild, unfocused with need. “I can smell you on my desk, in my office. All over everything. Mine.”
He lowered his head, nipping at her lip. “You smell like me. And I want everyone to know.”
He pushed her panties down her legs. The scrap of lace joined her dress on the floor. Then he stood, looking down at her, a feast laid out on his desk, and the look in his eyes was pure, undiluted possession.
He knelt between her legs and pulled her close, rubbing the soft fur of his cheeks against her inner thighs until she was squirming impatiently.
“I could stay here all night,” he murmured, his voice vibrating through her. “Just breathing you in.”
“Less breathing, more licking,” she demanded, her voice desperate. He growled in response and lowered his head.
He didn’t tease her; he devoured her. His tongue, hot and wet and impossibly clever, explored her with a single-minded intensity that made her whole body bow off the desk.
She clutched at the wood, trying to anchor herself, but it was useless.
The pleasure was too intense, too overwhelming.
He worked his finger into her, matching the movement of his tongue in a frantic, tantalizing rhythm.
She was close. So close. The tension coiled in her belly, tight and hot, ready to snap. And then he pulled away.
She made a sound of pure frustration, her hips rising in silent supplication.
“Ben…”
“Patience, sweetheart.” He stood up, his hands going to the fly of his jeans. “I’m not done with you yet.”
He freed himself with a groan of relief, his shaft glistening silver, and her inner walls clenched in anticipation.
He lowered himself over her, bracing his hands on either side of her head. “You’re mine, Sara Cartwright. And I’m going to make sure everyone knows it.”
And then he was inside her. One long, slow, possessive thrust that filled her completely, stretching her until she was full of him, owned by him.
“Ben—” She gasped, her legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him deeper.
“That’s it,” he growled, his hips moving against hers in a slow, deep rhythm. “Take all of me.”
He didn’t hold back. Each powerful thrust was a declaration, a claiming. His hands dug into her hips, pulling her into each stroke while he watched her coming apart beneath him, his eyes burning.
The tension coiled in her belly again, tighter and hotter this time.
She could feel it building, a wave of pleasure so intense it was almost painful.
And then he shifted, changing the angle of his thrusts, and the wave crashed over her, a blinding, world-shattering release.
He followed her over the edge with a guttural cry, burying himself deep inside her as he shuddered helplessly.
He collapsed against her, his body heavy and hot and perfect. For a long moment, they lay tangled together on the desk, the only sounds their ragged breathing and the distant music from the festival.
Eventually, Ben stirred.
“We should go home.”
“Mm. Probably.” She made no move to get up. “Your desk is more comfortable than I expected.”
“The nest is better.”
“True.” She stretched luxuriously beneath him. “But that requires moving.”
“I’ll carry you.”
“You’ve been carrying me all night.”
“And I’ll keep carrying you for as long as you let me.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead and stood up, tucking himself back into his jeans before reaching for her. “Come on, sweetheart. Up you go.”
She let him pull her to her feet, wincing slightly as sore muscles made themselves known. He retrieved her dress and helped her back into it, his touch gentle despite the urgency that had consumed them just minutes ago.
“There.” He smoothed her hair back from her face. “Beautiful as ever.”
“Liar. I’m sure I look like I just got ravished on your desk.”
“You do.” His grin was unrepentant. “It’s a good look on you.”
“Beast.”
“Bunny, actually.”
Before she could respond, he scooped her up again—one arm under her knees, the other behind her back, cradling her against his chest like she was something infinitely precious.
“I really can walk,” she pointed out.
“And I really don’t want you to.” He carried her out of the office, back through the darkened kitchen, and out into the cool night air. “Humor me.”
“Fine.” She snuggled closer, hiding her smile against his shoulder. “But only because you’re warm.”
“Whatever you need to tell yourself.”
They moved through the quiet streets, the festival’s distant music a soft counterpoint to their breathing. She let her eyes drift closed, content to let him carry her through the darkness, trusting him completely to get them home safe.
“Ben?”
“Hmm?”
“That was…” She searched for the right word. “Unexpected.”
A low chuckle rumbled through his chest. “Good unexpected or bad unexpected?”
“Very, very good unexpected.” She opened her eyes to look up at him. “I like you desperate.”
“I usually have more control.” His ears flicked back with what might have been embarrassment. “But when you bit my neck like that…”
“Mating season,” she said knowingly.
“Partly.” He adjusted his grip on her, pulling her closer. “Mostly just you. You make me lose control in ways I didn’t know were possible.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“It’s meant as one.” His voice dropped, taking on that rough edge that always made her shiver. “But don’t get too comfortable.”
“Oh?”
“That was just an appetizer.”
Her pulse jumped. “An appetizer?”
“Mmm.” His teeth grazed her earlobe, and her toes curled. “I have plans for you tonight, Sara Cartwright. Many, many plans. And now that I’ve taken the edge off…” His lips curved against her skin. “I can take my time.”
“Is that a promise or a threat?”
“Yes.”
They’d reached the edge of their street now, their neighboring cottages coming into view.
Their house loomed ahead, and she thought about the nest waiting inside—that incredible, instinct-driven creation he’d built for her, soft and warm and perfect for exactly the kind of activities he was describing.
“Ben?”
“Yes, sweetheart?”
“Walk faster.”
His laugh was low and dark and full of wicked promise. “Yes, ma’am.”
He picked up his pace, long legs eating up the remaining distance. She clung to him, anticipation building with every step, and marveled at how completely her life had changed in just a few short months.
She’d come to Fairhaven Falls looking for peace. For stability. For a place where she could finally stop being temporary. And she’d found the most important thing of all. She’d found love.