He opened his mouth, but the little she wolf refused to let him get a word in edgewise. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had taken that tone with him, all bossy and pissy and arrogant. Not even Graham did such a good job of goading his wolf as this bundle of anger and oncoming heat. His eyes narrowed as her emotions intensified her scent.
“So, fine. We both know where we stand, and as far as I can see, continuing to bitch at each other isn’t likely to change either of our minds. Why waste the energy? Especially when I’ve got a thousand and one more important things to do in order to keep this pack running. And that’s exactly what I’m going to do. I’m getting back to work. I wish like hell that you’d get your ass out of my territory, but since I don’t see that happening any time before Sunday, I’m not going to bother worrying about it. All I ask is that you stay out of my way. Go do what you have to do, talk to whatever members of the pack you want to talk to, watch whatever you want to watch, but just stay the hell out of my way. All right?”
She skewered him with one last glare, wrenched the shovel out of the dirt, and turned her back to him. She actually turned her back. It was like waving a red flag in front of a bull, only red was the color he pictured turning her ass, and the bull was the wolf inside him who figured spanking her could wait until he’d pinned her down and mated her a time or two. Or twenty.
His nostrils flared and he inhaled deeply. With every breath he took, he could feel the full moon drawing closer and smell her heat building. The fragrance filled his head like a mist, making his thoughts foggy and his dick hard. Goddess help them both.
“No.”
He barely understood himself. The denial came out as more of a growl than a word, a rumble pulled from a throat more inclined to form Lupine howls than human words. His wolf wanted out, and only the force of his will kept his change at bay. He liked to think that if he had been a weaker male, he’d already be sprouting fur. That was the effect this woman had on him.
“Well, that’s just sad for you, then.” She dropped the shovel and bent down to shift a particularly large stone. “Too bad I don’t give a shit. Now go away and leave me the fuck alone.”
“No.”
He shifted his weight to the balls of his feet. Saliva pooled in his mouth as his beast imagined the taste of her; his palms itched as he pictured the feel of her smooth skin under his hands. His control hung by a thread, and with every insulting word she uttered, it was as if she sawed at that thread with a tiny, diamond-edged knife. A few more strokes, and not even the Moon herself could stop him.
“Okay, you know what? I give up. I didn’t think it was possible, but you really are dumber than you look.” Honor threw up her hands and all but howled at him. “What part of ‘get the hell away from me’ do you not understand?”
Logan was on her before she got it out, the thread a distant, severed memory. “The part about ‘away,’” he growled, and closed his mouth over hers.
Five
Oh, shit. Not again.
Yes, please, thank you.
Honor couldn’t seem to make up her mind. Or rather, her hormones. Was Logan Hunter the best thing she’d ever tasted and the one thing she needed more than her next breath, or did she need to kill him and leave his carcass for scavengers to denude the flesh from his bones?
While she pondered, he gave a little roll of his hips against hers and threatened to turn the tide of the whole debate. Not to mention the planet.
Hell, it threatened, promised, and carried out. One minute Honor was contemplating how his head would look posed on a spike in the flower beds next to the front door, and the next, she clung to him like a honeysuckle vine, arms and legs twined around him as she tried to get as close as she possibly could to the source of her arousal.
Damn heat. Why Lupine women couldn’t have a normal female menstrual cycle, Honor had never understood. No, she had to go through a monthly bout of nearly uncontrollable lust and a frantic desire to mate every single time she ovulated. How was that right?
Logan didn’t seem to mind. His arms closed around her and hitched her higher against him, until her legs wound around his waist and his hips could grind directly between her legs. That felt good for all of seven milliseconds before Honor wanted more. She gritted her teeth against the urge to sink them into his flesh—something a male Lupine usually took as an invitation—and concentrated on remembering to breathe. That lasted five milliseconds. At that point, she gave up on good sense and reached for his shirt collar, grabbing hold and wrenching her hands apart until his buttons popped open and scattered about the floor of the clearing.
Three milliseconds later, she felt the impact of her back hitting the rough bark of a tree trunk and a distinct draft as her T-shirt tore down the middle and fell to hang limply off her elbows. If the man kept this up, she’d have to live permanently in her wolf form for lack of clothes.
That didn’t seem so bad, though, not when he was nibbling a path from her mouth, down her throat, to her breasts. She felt the little stings of his teeth against her skin, followed by the heat of his tongue laving the wounds, and the pressure of his mouth as he sucked her skin against his teeth. She’d look like a hickey map of the Milky Way by nightfall, and she couldn’t have cared less. All she cared about was getting her hands on him and easing the burning ache between her legs.
Her hands clenched the material of his shirt, and she shoved it off his shoulders and arms, tugging furiously until it gave up and fluttered to the ground beside them. Then her hands were on him, exploring the smooth expanse of muscle and skin, the furring of hair across his chest, the tight, flat discs of his nipples. She wanted to taste him, but he was too bloody far away, so she memorized his textures as if she were blind and he was her very own form of Braille. When her hands slipped below the waistband of his jeans and her nails scraped intricate patterns in the skin at the small of his back, he roared and shifted his weight to the side, tearing open the fly of her own jeans until he could slip his hand inside and plunge two long fingers deep into her slick heat.
“Logan!”
Her cry sounded choked and harsh to her own ears, but it was the most she could manage when her world was exploding behind her eyes like summertime fireworks. She tilted her hips to take him deeper and then moaned in frustration when he pressed knuckle deep inside her. It wasn’t enough.
“More. Now.”
He didn’t answer, but the rough rumble in his chest sounded like approval to her. Shaking with need, she reached between them for the button on his jeans and popped it open, only to encounter another one. Her eyes widened incredulously.
“Button flies?”
He growled in frustration and used his free hand to yank open the next button. “I know. Never again.”
The third and fourth buttons gave easily, practically leaping out of their holes to avoid their owner’s ire. As soon as the stiff denim parted, his cock sprang free and Honor all but wept in relief. Her hand curled around it, stroking down the length and back again. He felt amazing, hot and thick and achingly hard, and she needed him inside her. Now.
Giving up the last of her restraint, she ducked her head forward and sank her teeth into Logan’s shoulder, directly over the spot where she’d bitten him last night in the kitchen. Holding on, she released her grip on his cock only long enough to unzip her own jeans all the way. The rasping sound seemed to echo around them, then her jeans fell away under his hands and her legs were winding back around his waist. She reached for him again, but he was there before her, guiding himself to her liquid entrance. He paused briefly, his hot gaze capturing hers, before he tightened his hands on her hips and plunged deep.