The kiss is a collision.
Raw. Punishing. Desperate.
Rafe crushes his mouth over mine. He tastes the salt of my tears. A deep groan rumbles in his throat. The control he fought so hard to maintain fractures clean through.
He backs me hard against the solid log wall of the cabin. The impact knocks the remaining breath from my lungs.
His large hands drag over my body. He claims my mouth with territorial dominance. The line blurs between rough comfort and primal heat.
I grab the collar of his dark shirt. I yank him closer. The friction is necessary. The fire is demanded.
He breaks the kiss to drag the oversized leather jacket off my shoulders. It hits the wooden floorboards with a heavy thud.
My hands slide upward, and I yank his shirt over his head. That’s when I see them—the raised, jagged burn scars mapping hischest and shoulder. The scars burn hot against my palms. I drag my fingernails down his hard abdomen. A harsh curse breaks from his lips.
His hands drop to the waistband of my borrowed tactical pants. He doesn’t bother with the buttons. He grips the thick material and yanks it sharply down my hips.
“I am going to tear these off you,” he snarls, his teeth grazing my earlobe as his large hands grip the meat of my bare thighs. He shoves me back against the log wall, his heavy, rigid cock grinding against my soaking pussy. “And then I am going to breed that Costa princess out of you. I’m going to fill you so full of my seed you’ll forget any other man ever tried to claim you. You’re in a wolf’s den now, Lucia. And I’m going to make sure you take up every inch of my bed tonight.”
11
RAFE
The heavy tactical canvas pools around her ankles.
I kick the borrowed pants across the wooden floorboards. She stands exposed in the dim amber light.
A scrap of black lace covers heavy breasts. Two thin strips of black silk ride high on her hips. The crisp mountain air does nothing to cool the heat radiating from her golden skin.
The sight of her knocks the air from my lungs.
The feral animal tearing at my ribs takes control. My legendary discipline shatters. My knees hit the floorboards in front of her.
My hands reach out. I grip her bare, plush hips.
Calix Ferraro looked at this woman and saw flaws. The butcher touched her like defective property. The memory of his arrogant voice makes my blood boil with homicidal rage. Calix is a dead man. The need to eradicate his filthy memory from her skin consumes my brain.
“Look at me, Firebird.” The words drop into a dark, guttural growl.
Her chest heaves. Her gaze drops down. Dark eyes stare back, blown out with heavy lust.
“You are a goddamn feast.” I dig my thumbs deep into the plush curves of her hips. “I am going to worship every single inch of this.”
I lower my head. I press my open mouth against the exact spot on her hip where Calix’s cruel fingers left their invisible mark.
I bite down on the soft flesh. The nip doesn’t hurt her, but it leaves a firm, undeniable brand. I drag my wet tongue slowly across her skin, replacing the butcher’s vile touch with blazing, territorial heat.
A loud gasp rips from her throat. Her hands dive into my messy hair. Her fingers grip the thick strands tightly, pulling my head closer.
I drag my rough palms up her ribcage. I stop at the front clasp of her black lace bra.
I pinch the small plastic lock. One quick snap severs the connection.
The heavy lace falls away.
Her breasts spill into my hands. Bare. Soft. The tight, dark peaks of her nipples pebble in the cold cabin air. A primal, starving hunger roars to life.
A small object slips from the parted lace. It hits the wooden floorboards with a sharp, metallicclink.