Moon - New Moon Part 6

It would be a mistake to hold her tightly. So he only draped his arms around her. The contact was light. Still, he grew so hard that he couldn't draw the line between pleasure and pain. In that moment, he knew that he must have her. But not yet. Not until she was as ready as he.

She seemed to know little about kissing. And he enjoyed teaching her, nibbling at her mouth, using the tip of his tongue to stroke the seam of her lips, gauging her response before increasing the pressure:.

Finally, he couldn't resist taking her lower lip between his teeth.

"Don't."

He stopped at once, and she lowered her head, resting her cheek against his shoulder again. He wanted to go farther, but he knew on some deep, instinctive level that she would turn and run from him. But he couldn't keep his hands off of her, so he stroked them lightly along her ribs, feeling her s.h.i.+ver.

He trembled, too. s.e.x had always been fun-and casual for him. He understood the charisma of the werewolf. The s.e.xual attraction. Women sensed the edge of danger under the civilized exterior, and that turned them on. Not that he had pursued women with the wild enthusiasm of his brother Lance. But no woman he had ever gone after had turned him down. Still, it had all been a game, because he'd known instinctively that the relations.h.i.+p with the partners he bedded would never deepen.

This was different. More urgent. More real. More important.

"What do you want?" she asked in a barely audible voice.

"All of you."

"I... can't."

"I'll prove to you that I'm the right man-the man you can trust," he promised, because it seemed that was his only option. If she didn't trust him, that would be the end of it.

At the thought of endings, his heart lurched inside his chest. He wanted to take her by the shoulders, fix his gaze on hers and tell her that the two of them belonged together. He wanted to explain that he had been waiting for her all his life.

The words stayed locked in his throat. Words wouldn't work with her. Only deeds.

The right deeds.

He ached to kiss her again-and take the kiss from sweet to mind-blowing. But he was wise enough to hold back.

Later, he would put his stamp on her. She was his mate. Or she would be-when he finally made love to her.

For now, he contented himself with weaving his fingers through her silky hair, stroking his hands over her bare back, nuzzling his lips against the side of her cheek. Breathing in her sweetness. Marveling at the softness of her skin.

He found it wasn't enough. Not nearly enough. The contact made him tremble inside with a powerful urgency that was more than s.e.xual.

He wanted to explain that she was his. But he realized that the claim would send her running. So he kept the knowledge to himself.

His hand dipped to her waist, stroking the indentation, memorizing her shape so that he could find her with his eyes closed. He wanted to slip lower and cup her bottom so that he could pull her more tightly against his erection. He wanted her to feel the power she had over him. But he managed to stop himself.

It was still early in the mating game, however he couldn't stop himself from raising one hand and gently cupping her breast. When he felt the nipple bead, he stroked her gently. There was no rush. They had time to get to know each other better before they made love.

If the soldiers outside let them. He had conveniently forgotten about the d.a.m.n soldiers. And when he made a low sound of anger, she stiffened in his arms.

Instantly he was sorry he'd alarmed her. Wanting to let her know that the angry sound had nothing to do with her, he moved back a few inches. Then he forgot what he was supposed to be doing when she moved her shoulder, pulling the thin gown against her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, drawing his attention to their sweetly rounded shape and the rosy nipples, which he could see through the gauzy fabric.

The temptation was more than he could stand.

Reaching out with his hand, he gently cupped her again.

"Oh!"

The warmth and weight of her felt wonderful. Just right for his palm. And when he began to play his fingers over the tight bud of her nipple, she cried out again.

"You like that."

She dropped her gaze and he knew that need and modesty were warring inside her.

That sweet reluctance made him want her all the more. His body tightened with need for her. They were in a bedroom. Because both of them wanted to make love. Even if she couldn't admit it yet.

But he would use his hands and mouth on her body-with all the skill he possessed. And she would open to him.

"Don't be afraid of me. All you have to do is let me give you pleasure."

She looked around the room, as though seeing it for the first time.

"Why did you bring me here?"

"To please you. Only that."

Before he could drag her closer and pull her down to the surface of the bed, the wall s.h.i.+mmered and another man stepped into the cave.

"Take your hands off her. She's mine," a gruff voice commanded.

Logan turned to face the intruder. "Who the h.e.l.l are you?"

The man laughed. "I own this woman. Get away from her."

"Falcone!" Rinna breathed, taking a step back, and then another, until her shoulders were pressed against the wall of the cave.

He was nothing like the monster Logan had imagined. He was young and handsome, with dark hair and piercing blue eyes. He raised his hand, and suddenly he was holding a sword. Logan backed away, knowing he would die if he couldn't find a way to defend himself.

"Reach for a weapon," Rinna shouted.

He didn't know what she meant. But he understood that his only chance was to follow her directions.

So he reached out his hand and felt his fingers close around something cold and hard.

The hilt of a sword.

Falcone made an angry sound and charged.

Logan jumped back, holding the blade in front of him. He'd never used one. His only experience with sword fighting was from the old movies he'd seen on television. He raised the weapon, parrying the thrust of the man who was now on the attack.

Miraculously, he seemed to know what to do. He beat the man back, pressed him against the stone wall opposite where Rinna stood. But Falcone lashed out again, striking Logan on the shoulder. As the sword slashed his flesh, hot pain shot through.

And suddenly he was on the floor, the intruder leaning over him, about the plunge the sword into his heart.

"No," Rinna shouted, and the man dropped his weapon, pressing his hands over his ears as though he could block out some horrible sound Logan couldn't hear.