Taken In by the Pack: Second Chances (22 page)

My whole world, my whole awareness, narrowed down to this moment, to me and him; I had never been so aware of another person’s body as I was of his in this moment, pressing in against me. I could feel every twitch of the muscles in his arms as he held me, the heat of his body felt like a furnace, his lips and his tongue provided a whole buffet of sensations to delight in.

Sure, there were still questions I needed answered; but in this moment, in the surety that his lips on mine and his encircling arms gave me, I knew that the answers would come in time. I didn’t really need them all to make this decision. I realized I had made the decision some time ago, I was just afraid to admit it, even to myself. This was the man I wanted, the only man I’d ever truly wanted, and I couldn’t imagine ever finding another that I wanted even a fraction as much.

There were some sacrifices to be made, but when two lives intertwine into one, there always are. All things considered, this was a good deal. Like he’d said, the perks far outweighed the drawbacks. My worst fears were unsubstantiated — having to lose my mother, to give up on my education, all of that — and the rest, well, I could find a balance.

And more than all that, I felt something stirring inside of me; it was a very strange feeling and almost impossible to describe. When I had first encountered the pack, there had been a sense of wildness, almost of danger, to them. I felt that same wildness echoed inside me, as though there were another mind, that of a wild animal, within my own mind; and yet it was also seamlessly a part of me.

That other part of me — the wolf part of me, I realized — knew
exactly
what it wanted. Him. It had no doubts. It wanted him, and it wanted him
now
. It could not comprehend why I had equivocated for so long when he was right there in front of me. It thought bearing his children was a perfectly fine idea.

It wanted to be set free, to run under the full moon with
my
pack as I was —
obviously, duh
— always meant to.

Abruptly, that wildness inside me broke free with a snapping sensation, like a dog snapping its lead. I threw myself into the kiss with wanton abandon, with a heat and passion that rivaled or even excelled his own.

❖ ❖ ❖

Without my really thinking about it, my arms drifted up his slowly, and wrapped around his neck. One hand gripped at the back of his shirt between his shoulders, and the other slid up, fingers slipping into and entangling in his hair and making sure he didn’t break the kiss. I didn’t think I could bear it if he stopped.

As I began to respond in kind to his kiss, to its passion, instead of merely accepting what he offered, he gave a low groan. I could feel the vibration against my lips, and it felt like it shivered out from there throughout my body, like a cartoon electrical wire. I whimpered faintly in return, pressing my body more tightly against his.

My sense of time abandoned me, and I have no idea how long we simply reveled in the delight and passion of that kiss; it might have been a handful of seconds, or it might have been hours.

Eventually our hands began to wander, both of us giving into the temptation to explore the other’s body. Every touch tingled like a mild electric shock, leaving me panting and clinging to him tighter than ever. I marveled at the feel of his well-muscled torso that I had so enjoyed ogling even in the midst of all the confusion of last weekend.

When his hand eventually made its way onto my chest, though, everything changed all over again. I felt almost like my body lit on fire; I had never understood the phrase ‘burning passion’ before, but I did now! I gasped, and bit down on his lip, not hard enough to draw blood or anything, but definitely not gently.

He gave a deep, rumbling growl that felt both bizarre and delightful with me pressed up against his chest as I was. He massaged my chest a moment longer, but then both his hands slid down my body again. This time instead of an embrace, he gripped my hips firmly, and he picked me up off the stool I was still leaning on. He seemed to have no more trouble lifting me than if I had been a pillow. I moaned, and wrapped my legs around his waist, arms going around his shoulders again to help support myself.

Our lips never parted, as his hands moved down slightly to my butt to secure me in place, and he turned, carrying me carefully to the bedroom door.

A corner of my mind whispered that maybe this wasn’t the best idea, but the wolf in me just snarled that voice into silence, and I threw myself that much more passionately into the kiss. Maybe it wasn’t wise, in fact it almost certainly wasn’t, but I didn’t care right now, I wanted this, I wanted
him
. I had waited years for him without even realizing that was what I was doing.

Once we crossed into the bedroom, he did have to break the kiss briefly, to look around, since he had never seen inside my bedroom here. Even that short time being deprived of his kiss made me whine softly, kissing along the line of his jaw and on his neck. It was only a moment, though, while he located the bed, and then his lips were on mine again.

He moved slowly, carefully, since our kissing rather precluded his ability to see where he was going; he felt his way along gingerly with his feet, each step timid, halting. I didn’t mind, I was in no particular hurry yet.

When his shin finally found the bed with a muted thump, he lowered to one knee on the bed, and carefully laid me back on the thick blankets. He leaned down with me as he did, until he knelt on the bed between my legs, supporting himself on one arm placed just above my head. His hair tickled my face as the kiss continued uninterrupted.

❖ ❖ ❖

I unlocked my arms and legs from around him as we settled onto the bed, stretching out under him rather like a cat in the sun. Almost immediately, my hands began roaming over his body again.

It still surprised me how strikingly much he had changed since we were together in high school. He had been tall then, but he’d been something of a beanpole. Now he was like a completely different person wearing the same face. He was incredibly strong; even if I hadn’t realized it before, the ease with which he’d picked me up and carried me in here would have proven it quickly enough. He was far from looking like a pro weightlifter, though. Every muscle was solid and lean instead of bulky, with very little fat to be found. Holding himself above me in this tense pose, he was more like a carved marble statue than ever.

He’d always been attractive; I’d even seen pictures of him as a kid, and he was a charmer then, too. When we’d dated, I’d been the envy of nearly every girl in the school (especially if they actually knew him enough to recognize that he had personality
and
looks.) But now — now, he was mouth-watering, melt-your-panties
sexy
.

And he’s mine!
The sheer possessiveness of that thought surprised me, but I didn’t much mind, and I didn’t think he would have objected, either. Come to think of it, he’d been acting even more possessive of me, especially if you assumed that, consciously or unconsciously, having Elijah follow me was probably as much about making sure I wasn’t with anyone else.

Still, the exultant thought seemed to catapult me to a whole new level of enjoyment, and of appreciation for every detail of his body. My fingers ran through his hair, enjoying the silky smoothness of it, then dipped lower, over his shoulders, awed by their breadth. I smoothed my hands over his chest, and traced each well-defined muscle of his abdomen. His butt was not large, but neither was it too small; it was perfect, tight, and definitely squeezable. He chuckled faintly into the kiss as I proved its squeezability to myself.

His hands were not idle, either, or at least the free one wasn’t. He traced the outline of my face; he seemed fascinated by my neck for some reason. He slid his hand down my side right past my my breasts this time, making me whimper softly into the kiss, arching my back slightly to push my chest against his in protest. He ignored the hint, his big hand finding the dip of my waist and holding it; I was stunned how far around my waist it stretched — he would almost be able to circle it if he used both hands, though that had more to do with the size of his hands than that of my waist.

After a brief interlude at my waist, his hand continued its journey down my side, over my hip, and down onto my thigh. He couldn’t really reach much further than mid-thigh without breaking the kiss, so he reversed course, hand sliding back up my body just as slowly. I felt like he was trying to memorize my curves, as if he wanted to be able to replicate me exactly later.

This time when he reached my chest, he gave me what I had wanted; his hand circled one breast, kneading gently. I moaned, squirming in pleasure beneath him. He rumbled softly deep in his chest in response, kneading harder, his thumb rubbing over the general area of my nipple. With a whimper that was equal parts gratification and desire for more, I pushed my chest up against his hand.

❖ ❖ ❖

He finally broke the kiss, leaving me gasping, but his lips were not idle. He continued to kiss and softly nibble his way down onto my neck, making my whole body twitch and my heart race even faster. He seemed intent on kissing every last centimeter of my neck, making his way up to my ear, which he licked and nipped at.

I gave a mewling little cry every time he bit down, my body writhing in pleasure. It was unlike anything I had ever experienced. How could being bitten, however gently, feel so good? It was confusing and wonderful, and I never wanted it to end. My arms wrapped around him as far as they would go, trying to hold him there, not wanting him to move or stop. I traced my fingertips in random little patterns on his back and neck, and from the soft sounds he made, he enjoyed it.

Eventually, he left my ear alone, and worked back down the side of my neck. I struggled to catch my breath with the softening of the intensity, clinging to him as though he were a life raft in the sea of sensation in which I was cast adrift.

He nipped a bit harder, then, and my hips pushed up against his without thought. I could feel something hard against my thigh through his jeans, larger and stiffer than the zipper. I moaned softly, as did he.

Then without warning, he suddenly bit down on my neck, hard. It surprised me so much I yelped loudly. In response, he only tightened his hold on me, growling low, deep in this chest.

To my own surprise, I found myself growling in return, almost a snarl. I bucked underneath him, instinctively trying to throw him, to take the upper hand — not because I wanted him to stop, but only to take control — but it was useless. It would have been easier to try and lift the whole bed with him still atop it.

Since stopping him or wresting control from him was not an option, I determined instead to simply enjoy it to the best of my ability. I wrapped my legs back up around his hips, grinding myself against him. My nails dug into his back harshly.

I had never wanted anything in my life so much as I wanted Bryson in that moment, not even by half. There was no more ‘if’ left in my mind, only ‘how’ and ‘when’. Even that thought was only in a far-off corner; almost all of my awareness was focused on his body, and the sensations he was imparting to mine.

I tried to reach his neck to kiss and nibble in return, but the best I could manage was the outer part of his shoulder. So, I kissed and licked and softly bit at his shoulder, my nails still raking down his back without a thought for any pain it might cause him; obviously he would tell me if I hurt him, and he hadn’t given me any reason to think he was displeased with anything so far.

“Oh gods, Bryson… fuck,” I moaned, shuddering.

He broke the grip on my neck, lifting his mouth right next to my ear, chuckling softly; the soft breath tickled the tiny hairs there. “I do believe that’s where we’re headed, yes,” he whispered in a husky, velvety tone.

I whimpered again, my arms pulling him tighter against me, convulsively.

❖ ❖ ❖

Since he had released my neck, his lips trailed downward, over my neck, pausing on my collarbone and shoulder for a minute, before continuing down onto my chest. I groaned, one hand sliding into his hair again, balling into a loose fist, tugging on his hair and keeping him from going anywhere.

All thought completely checked out, except for what he was doing. Even through the fabric of both shirt and bra, his kisses and nips were intoxicating. My free hand trailed up and down his back, but it was an absent sort of movement, without any real purpose behind it.

With him teasing my breast, I didn’t really notice what his hand was doing, until I felt him unfastening my shorts. Part of me had a momentary flash of near-panic.
Wait, is this what I want, really? Am I ready to go that far, go where that will lead?
The rest of me, though, quickly shoved such thoughts away, even as my hips shoved up to meet his hand as it slid under the fabric of my shorts. The time for that decision was past, now. The wild nature he had awoken in me was not about to let me back out.