Wandering Off the Path (3 page)

Did Wolf feel the same towards her as the bard had towards his lady? No one had ever gone to such lengths for her before. Certainly not Hunter. The idea that Wolf had risked possible arrest or attack to see her again affected her more than she’d anticipated.

She shook her head, trying to regain rationality within her mind. The paper of her grandmother’s note crinkled in her hand. She stared down at the thick, blocky letters. She’d never seen her grandmother write before. Was it possible she hadn’t written the note at all? Maybe the note played a part in this man’s ploy to get what he wanted. The same goal that had propelled him to steal into her home in the dark.

“Do you know where my grandmother is?” The words held no threat, but the accusation resonated through her tone, the statement dropping from her lips from duty, more than belief. She didn’t want to accuse the man before her, but that he might have had something to do with her grandmother’s disappearance was the only logical conclusion.

“I know nothing of your grandmother.” A slight pang of hurt crested his words. “The house was empty when I arrived.”

Guilt arrowed through her heart at the reproach. She had no reason to feel guilty for the question. This man had broken into her home when her grandmother had disappeared. What else was she to think? Could she believe the note in her hand? Might the two events be a mere coincidence?

“How did you arrive before me? I ran as fast as I could down the path.” Her gaze travelled along his body, assessing his strong form, gauging his response for any hint of a lie.

“The trip’s far shorter off the path.” He stepped closer, despite her tense stance, not waiting for any other acknowledgement that she desired his presence. His wicked smile and the determined dangerous gleam in his eyes tempted her across the candle’s glow. He brushed her cheek, and the heat of his touch curled her insides.

She forced herself to remain rigid. She didn’t want to enjoy his touch, but her traitorous body refused to listen. Pleasure radiated from her centre out to the tips of her fingers and toes. She gasped, and Wolf’s gaze dropped to her mouth. His eyes burned, dark and demanding.

“If you’d have been willing to explore with me, I would’ve been glad to show you.”

His stimulating caress warmed her cheek. She strained her neck, fighting the desire to turn into his hand and rub against his hot palm. She worried if she gave in, she might purr beneath his touch, like a cat begging for a saucer of milk.

Wolf reached for the candle in her grip. The waxy stock slipped from her hold with little struggle as her body complied with Wolf’s silent commands. Her movements were no longer within her control, like one of the puppets that entertained in the market square, her limbs and actions manipulated by strings. As odd as it might be, he didn’t scare her. She felt alive and safe under this Wolf’s command.

He placed the candle on the windowsill. The golden glow shone on his features, illuminating half his face. The shade accentuated his threatening look. His mysterious scowl tempted Abigail to reach out and stroke him, to swirl her fingers through the prickly hairs along his jaw, imagining the same bristles upon more delicate areas of her body.

What was she thinking? She stepped back, separating herself from Wolf’s consuming presence. She wasn’t safe with this stranger, and to feel otherwise was insanity. The thrill he offered would come with a price, one that might be far steeper than she could afford. Her body—and heart—might be irreparably changed by their contact, possibly damaged beyond repair.

“No. I need to find my grandmother. It’s not like her to be gone so long.”

Wolf didn’t appear surprised or upset by her sudden retreat. He seemed exhilarated by her flight. His eyes glowed and his smile captured her, like a bunny in a snare. His nostrils flared, breathing deep. Could he sense her fear? Did he know she was tempted and aroused, even in her anxiety?

“There’s more I can show you.” He filled in the distance she’d gained. His intoxicating, woodsy smell surrounded her, offering to take her deep into the unknown. Guiding her on a sensuous tour off the safe path to locations so treacherous she might be unable to return. “Treats beyond your imagination.”

“What tells you I’m interested in such a show?”

His lips turned up in a smug grin. How could he be so confident while her mind and body were swathed in confusion? Her muscles ached from battling her body’s instincts. Her mind whirled, searching for a space where the unknown no longer held such allure.

“I saw you in the market.”

She froze. What had he seen? Had he watched her wander into the alley and spy the bard and his lady?

“I could see in your eyes what you desired, what you needed. And with the way you’re standing there, breath rasping, face flushing with colour, eyes large and bright with interest, you’re not denying the truth. I can hear your heart pounding. The smell of your arousal is so strong and enticing it would call to any man. I know you’re interested, better than you know yourself.”

“But what of my grandmother?” She searched his features for a hint of his involvement in her disappearance.

“She left you a note. She is fine.” Wolf stepped towards her, invading the space between them. His body rubbed against hers, kindling an ache deep inside her own. “And if you give me a chance, I’ll distract you so completely you’ll forget she was ever here.”

Abigail looked up at him in shock, wanting to pummel the arrogant expression from his strong features. His over-confidence and harsh sentiment were too much to bear in the face of her confusion. She raised her hands, dropping her grandmother’s note, prepared to claw him, bite him, slap him for her own freedom.

But before she could move, Wolf grabbed her wrists, holding them to her sides with his strength. She yelped, surprised by his quick movements and her subsequent capture. Moisture erupted across her body, sweat dampening her skin, and confusing wetness dewed between her thighs.

With a slight tug, Wolf pulled her to him. Her breasts pressed against the rough fabric covering his broad chest. His fierce grip upon her wrists remained constant and forceful. Her inner muscles clenched, her betraying body finding gratification in his dominance even as her mind rebelled against it.

“Bastard,” she cursed as he moved towards her. His strong, angular nose rubbed against the length of hers. His lush and inviting lips were close enough that if he spoke they almost brushed against her mouth. His breath fanned her face, bringing with it the scent of forest and man.

“If you think that will deter me, you are quite wrong, my sweet. Your harsh words only inflame me further.” He gazed into her eyes, imploring her to take what she desired, now so close at hand.

He fastened his lips on hers, enveloping them in a consuming kiss. It wasn’t gentle or sweet, as she’d seen other lovers embrace, but it was electrifying. His tongue and teeth devoured her mouth. She moaned, savouring his taste. His beard rubbed against her cheeks and chin until they flamed and chafed, becoming extra-sensitive.

Her body responded without her knowledge. She licked his lips, sucked upon his tongue, and nibbled the very tip. Her resolve faltered, in spite of how diligently she fought. The urge to press her aching body into him, to push closer until she found release almost overcame her.

He pulled back suddenly, his breath desperate and racking. A waft of logic returned to her, yet she clung to it with the death grip of a climber upon a broken tree limb. She struggled against him, trying to yank her hands from his grip. She needed to rebel against his temptation. The only way back to safety would be to free herself of him, of his troubling influence and his intoxicating touch.

She let out a frustrated sigh when her effort went unheeded, his grip still holding her tight and his large smile still raining down upon her. She turned her head away sharply, refusing him her expression, not letting him see the true results of his effect upon her. Her copper hair tangled across his rough cheeks. The tug upon her hair created a small quake deep within her stomach.

Biting her lip, Abigail held her neck stiff away from him, desperately clinging to her last refuge. Her fingers shook, her knees grew weak as her small defiance crumbled beneath his continuous advance.

A growl rumbled from Wolf’s chest, anger roaring deep within him at her turned head and obscured expression. He despised being denied any of her. The soft, parted lips and soulful eyes burning with need. The sweet puffs of her excited breath breezed across his skin. Her darkened expression pushing him, showing him what she needed, without words.

Her continued struggle plucked his need for control, goaded him on. That was why he’d sought her out, the reason he wouldn’t allow their short interlude on the road to be the end between them. This woman, with her sweet innocence, rebellious nature and hidden desires, gave him more satisfaction with a few deep breaths than other women managed with hours of effort.

He assessed the beautiful picture before him, searching out the path to her submission. He studied the bare inches of creamy flesh. She might deny him the view he wished for, but he’d find other ways to stimulate them both.

Choosing his place carefully, Wolf dropped his head, sweeping his heated breath along the breast exposed above the curve of her bodice. The smooth skin erupted into gooseflesh beneath the soft exhale.

She rotated into him, until they were chest to chest and groin to groin, even as she struggled against his hold. Whether she wished to obtain her freedom or hasten the pleasure already bubbling within her, he couldn’t tell. He dropped his lips to her chest, trailing a line of moisture along the edge of her dress with his tongue.

She tasted sweet, like a ripe apple plucked right from the tree, untainted by the world. The flavour inflamed him further. He moaned against her chest and she attempted to jerk free from him again, even as her pulse rate increased, her heart beating next to his.

He respected her fight, and wanted to break it in the same breath. It fascinated him, watching her battle against what they both wanted. If she had the strength to deny herself, she’d have the power to protect herself, from him or anyone else.

“Why do you fight what can give you such pleasure?” He dusted his lips across the edge of her bodice, not searching farther into the folds to the temptations below. “Why fight what you want?” His words puffed against her kiss-moistened skin. He nipped at the soft flesh, not to cause pain, but to awaken her already trembling breasts.

Abigail whimpered deep in her throat.

He pressed his mouth farther into her curves to cover his triumphant grin.

Sweat dewed his forehead. His grip upon her wrists was slick with wet heat, but he forced his hold to remain secure. He wouldn’t allow her to slip through his fingers. Not until he’d pushed through her reservations. Until he’d released her from the influence of right or wrong, and freed her to take what she wanted.

“Is pleasure so abundant you can turn away from that which you find?” He spoke in ragged breaths. He lavished her collarbone, kissing, sucking and nipping the thin skin below her throat.

He crushed her torso into his. His aching groin grazed her soft stomach, illustrating the effect of her struggles upon his body, and he released a small groan. His leather pants pressed tightly against his engorged shaft.

Her surprised expression and quick intake of her breath acknowledged the prominent bulge pinned between them.

“As you can feel, I’m enjoying myself.” He nuzzled into the juncture of her shoulder and neck, his teeth scraping along the curve.

Wolf drove farther into her. Bending his knees, he positioned himself low enough that his cock rubbed along the space between her thighs. He moved restlessly, gritting his teeth when he brushed against the centre of her. The heat of her sex, muted by many layers of fabric, caressed his sensitive shaft. He was a man who took what he wanted, but he gave in return. This climax would not just be his, but theirs together.

Her thighs quaked as he pushed against her. He released a feral sound along with his rhythmic motions. The darkness in her gaze intensified and her eyes flared wider. She jerked within his grip.

He let out a deep breath. She still didn’t realise how much he’d give, if she’d only allow him to take. Until she understood, he couldn’t let her go. He tightened his hands around her flesh, keeping her under his control.

Abigail moaned, the sound muffled deep in her throat, as if the noise were wrought from her against her will. He leaned his forehead against her shoulder, breathing deeply. The needy hum of his blood goaded him to the brink of his endurance. It would be so enjoyable to give in to that yearning, to claim what he wanted without any possibility of guilt, as had been done to him. He took a deep breath, pushing those memories aside. He hadn’t become that evil.

He continued to move between her thighs. Not fast enough, hard enough or rough enough to satisfy her—that much was evident from the desperate noises leaking from her lips. Fire billowed down his spine, settling in his groin, but he ignored the need radiating through him. He wouldn’t give her the release her body pleaded for so soon. She needed to want it so much she would beg him for it. And he wouldn’t come without her. Then she wouldn’t have any reason to regret his invasion into her life, or repent his forceful demands upon her. And he could sneak out of her life before she was hurt, too. Each leaving with their own pleasures and memories of this one night.