Chapter 160 160
She was temptation incarnate. The air between them crackled, thick and volatile, as if one wrong breath would set it ablaze.
Every instinct inside him roared for possession for the right to pin her to the tree and mark her as his. She had stripped him bare of discipline, reduced his iron control to splinters at her feet. Around her, the savage in him stretched and bared its teeth. The beast woke eagerly whenever she so much as breathed in his direction.
She shifted in his hold, fingers lifting as though to pry his hand from her hair. Realizing he’d tightened his grip too much, he loosened it slightly. Her gaze dipped to his chest.
He hated that.
He fucking hated when she looked away like she was stealing back a piece of herself he’d almost captured.
“What do you want, Jacqueline?” he rasped against the curve of her ear.
She swallowed hard. Her throat felt parched, scandalized by the mere sound of his voice. That deep, gravelly tone did wicked things to her composure.
Her luminous eyes lifted to meet his, and the intensity there made her heart stumble. She drew in a breath. His cologne wrapped around her senses dark, rich, grounding. It made it nearly impossible to think.
With him crowding her space, towering over her half-naked body, radiating heat and dominance, her thoughts scattered.
“P… please,” she managed, the word barely more than a whisper spilling from her full lips.
His hand slipped from her hair. Both palms slid down her sides and landed hard on her ass, fingers digging in as he squeezed roughly. A startled gasp escaped her, eyes squeezing shut as he ground his hips forward.
Her eyes flew open again when she felt the unmistakable evidence of his arousal pressing against her stomach.
He felt enormous.
“Please what?” he growled.
She bit down on her lower lip, gaze drifting to his shoulder because she couldn’t withstand those eyes. Those dark, devouring eyes that threatened to pull her under.
“I… I…” The queen of witty comebacks reduced to a stuttering mess.
She wanted him. God, she wanted him. Was that so wrong? Just for this night for this moment she wanted him to take her against this tree, erase every doubt with his hands and mouth. But fear coiled in her chest. What if she shattered something fragile and perfect between them? What if this magic vanished the second she spoke too boldly?
She wanted to live in this moment forever.
“What do you want, Jacq? You want me to touch you?” he murmured, voice rough as gravel.
His knee pushed between her legs, forcing them apart. His hand slid down and cupped her intimately through her jeans.
She jolted, fingers darting to his wrist as he rubbed her firmly through the denim.
“Is this what you want?” he ground out, stroking her more insistently.
His nostrils flared as her scent thickened in the air stronger now, heavier, unmistakable.
She whimpered, eyes fluttering closed, and gave the faintest nod.
The moment her lashes met, his touch vanished.
Cold rushed in where heat had been.
“Say it,” he muttered, a dark edge to his voice.
Her eyes flickered up to him before darting away again.
She parted her lips to speak, but he pressed a finger against them, silencing her.
“Look at me,” he commanded. “And tell me what you want.”
The authority in his tone made her swallow hard. Slowly, hesitantly, she raised her eyes to his.
The confident Jacqueline who sparred with him daily had retreated. The woman standing here now was trembling before a predator.
“I… want you to touch me,” she said softly.
The words were barely audible but to him, they rang like a battle cry. Something feral stirred deep in his chest.
Her voice was honeyed warmth. Sweet. Soft. Dangerous.
His hand moved to the button of her jeans, flicking it open. The sound of the zipper sliding down echoed in the charged silence. She sucked in a sharp breath, palms pressing flat against the rough bark behind her.
Her gaze dropped, teeth worrying her lower lip as his middle finger traced the seam of her panties, feeling the slick heat beneath.
She gasped when his hand suddenly fisted her hair again, yanking her head back and forcing her to meet his stare.
“Don’t you dare look away,” he thundered.
Her breath hitched as his hand slipped inside her panties.
She shuddered at the first direct contact his rough fingertips exploring her slowly, deliberately, as though he intended to memorize every curve and hollow. When he brushed somewhere too sensitive, she tensed.
Without breaking eye contact, she caught his wrist and guided him lower.
His finger slid inside her.
A silent gasp tore from her lips as he grunted at the tightness gripping him.
He fought to keep control, to keep the wolf from surfacing. He couldn’t risk her seeing his eyes change.
He began to move slow, torturous strokes at first. In and out. Measured. Intentional.
Her breathing turned uneven as he gradually increased the pace. Something hot and coiling began to build in her belly, tightening with every thrust of his finger. Her heart pounded so hard she thought it might break free of her ribs.
He watched her like she was art his most prized masterpiece. Her toes curled. She forced herself not to look away, not to close her eyes, even as unfamiliar pleasure rippled through her.
She had never felt anything like this.
Her head swam. Her lip caught between her teeth.
Those dark, predatory eyes of his held her captive. They promised sin. Devotion. Ruin.
Her legs trembled, turning to water. She clung to his arm as he added another finger, stretching her further.
“I’m… I… I’m… c-coming…” she stammered breathlessly.
“Come for me,” he growled.
And she did.
Her body shattered around him, pleasure crashing through her in violent waves as she came undone beneath his unrelenting gaze.