Munro (Immortals After Dark #18) by Kresley Cole

            When she mustered a defiant look, he said, “Stubborn wench, you are such a pain in my arse.”

            “That must be just your type then.” She glanced down at his erection. “Because this pain in the arse is doing it for you.”

            “You are. Fuck me, you are. I canna reason. Canna plan. Can think of naught but you.” His gaze dipped to her lips.

            She snapped, “Do not dare kiss me.” Yet she found herself raising her face.

            “Have zero fears on that score.” Yet he dragged her closer.

            The rigid length of his manhood pressed against her, and she had to stifle a moan. “I mean it, devil wolf.”

            “No kiss for you, carnie,” he rasped, even as he leaned down. “No’ inclined to delight you thus.”

            “Delight me? Flatter yourself some more, you vain swine!”

            Realization lit his golden gaze. “So this is how it will be with us.”

            Curiosity forced her to ask, “What will be?”

            “With you and me, fighting will always lead to fucking—”

            The wolves outside howled anew, and then Ren and Munro were kissing. He gave a sensual lick against the seam of her lips, and a cry of sheer relief escaped her.

            When his tongue dipped inside, finding hers, she moaned at the sensations and threaded her fingers through the hair at his nape. With a groan, he slanted his mouth, taking hers more deeply.

            A taste of whiskey . . . breathing each other’s breaths . . . heat flooding her veins.

            She tried to block out such divine pleasure and focus on how manipulative he was. This is forbidden. Stop him. You’re married—

            His thumbs reached her stiffened nipples and stroked, a live-wire shock of bliss. She clutched at his hair and sagged in defeat.

            As if he’d read her mind, he said against her lips, “Tell me you doona feel the same way about me.” Or else. The threat lingered in his words, and even that aroused her. “Tell me!”

            She didn’t answer—because right now all she could offer up would be a lie.





THIRTY-ONE





            Munro struggled to control his lust, which had been brewing since his mate had brought him to the razor’s edge of release mere hours ago.

            He could tell she was new to this kind of kissing, but that only filled him with a savage satisfaction. He had untold experience, and she was hot-blooded; he would have her panting after him—

            She lapped at his tongue, and experienced Munro nearly came in his trews!

            When he stroked her tight nipples, she gave a cry into their kiss and arched for more.

            Fiery mate! His control burned away, as if scorched under the hot sun. He swept her up in his arms and started for the bedroom upstairs. As they ascended the steps, he leaned down and grazed his lips over her neck.

            A flashback of his turning bite arose, but he shook away the memory. A kiss in the dip between her collarbones made her head tilt back. He took that as an invitation, sucking on her fluttering pulse point.

            She shivered in his arms. “Yes.”

            Against her damp skin, he said, “My fangs ache whenever you make me jealous and whenever I need inside you. They always ache.”

            In the firelit bedroom, he set her on the bed, following her down. When they lay side by side, he took her mouth again, picturing all the things he was about to do to her.

            Learn her curves. Taste her wetness. Plunder. Claim.

            No. Canna take her. No’ yet. But he could give her pleasure.

            As their tongues tangled, she clutched his hips and rocked her own to rub her mons against his sensitive cock.

            With a groan, Munro cupped her breasts, soft mounds that molded to his hands. His Instinct warned about his delicate mate, but his body demanded ever more of her. As did his beast. It scented how wet she’d grown and howled inside to lap up her nectar. Begone, creature! This is all mine tonight.