“I’ll take care of it.”
He hadn’t let her go and seemed as reluctant as she was for him to do so. And, okay, she had to admit that having his arms around her was nice. But she also got the feeling Grant was waiting for something. What? An invitation for that kiss?
Stupid girl. How inappropriate would that have been? How absurd was it to wait for a kiss that was not going to happen, in light of them still being strangers on the opposing sides of an upcoming round of litigation?
The thought had barely receded when Grant Wade rested his mouth on hers.
It wasn’t the smartest move, Grant knew. In fact, kissing Paxton was the polar opposite of smart. He just could not help himself.
The kiss was meant to be a further comfort for her, but didn’t turn out that way. Desire to devour the woman in his arms filled him the second his lips touched hers.
She was soft, and tasted good. He held her lithe body to his, thinking it might have been a fluke that she kissed him back. A kind of stunned reaction. Whatever the reason, Paxton, at least for the moment, accepted the pressure of his mouth as if she also had been waiting for this moment to arrive. As if it had been merely a matter of time before this happened, given their attraction to each other.
Possibly she needed an outlet for getting rid of her recent fear. Maybe he kissed her for the same reason, or because of the growing suspicion that his desire for her wasn’t normal. This wasn’t how strangers behaved. Something else had to be driving them together.
The kiss deepened. He couldn’t seem to get enough of her and didn’t want to stop. Distant thoughts nagged about being needed elsewhere, but Grant shook those warnings off in favor of exploring his ardent desire to possess Paxton Hall.
In that moment, he felt exactly like the animal he was. As his lips moved over Paxton’s, his sense of connection to her doubled. Flames of greed licked at his insides, piling higher and higher with each passing stroke of his palms over the fine bones of her spine. She didn’t struggle to be free or pound him with her fists. Her mouth was pliable, plush and accepting. If she had offered any hint of wanting to get away, he would have backed off.
That’s what he told himself, anyway.
Enough, his mind cautioned after more seconds slipped by. But he didn’t want to listen. He took hold of her shirt, intending to tear it from her body without giving a damn about who might be looking. The sheer force of that thought made him draw back.
Paxton’s breath came in rasps. Her face was extremely pale beneath the glare of the café’s lights. As their gazes locked and his body continued to harden in all the wrong places, Grant knew for certain he was in real trouble where Paxton Hall was concerned, and that his wolfish impulses were the instigators of those feelings.
She stood there, looking at him.
He wasn’t sure what to say.
The quick fix for this problem was to drive away and leave her there, as he should have done in order to regain his wits. But he did have to get her back to the motel. See her safely there.
Taking her hand in his, Grant led her to his truck in what amounted to a race against time. Sooner or later they would come to their senses about this connection and be able to manage the passions accompanying it. He preferred that to be later, because what he intended to do to and with Paxton was going to take some time.
Paxton’s curious expression told him she wasn’t going to stop this madness, either. Not yet, anyway. Whatever was taking place between them was seriously spiraling out of control. Not just for him, but for both of them.
She climbed into the truck when he opened the door. Grant was already mulling over the added difficulty of getting her out of the jeans she now wore.
All women should wear skirts, he thought. Black silk, preferably.
His passenger sat silently as he drove, her focus glued to the windshield. She was all legs—long, slim legs encased in dark blue denim. Her shirt was tight enough to show off curves he wouldn’t have anticipated, given the leanness of her overall silhouette.
She didn’t know what do with her hands, so they fluttered in much the same way his insides were fluttering, as she tried to rest them in her lap.
Are you pondering what might happen when we reach the motel?
Why didn’t she look at him?
Grant’s body and mind were at war with each other over those rampant desires. Emotions usually reserved for after a shape-shift were hitting him hard. Each of his fingertips stung as if his claws were going to make an unexpected appearance...all because of his sudden need for the woman across from him.
Back off, Grant said to his inner wolf.
Keep cool.
Neither he nor Paxton said anything, because what was there to say when she was in the dark about so many things? Strangers had a certain level of anonymity where one-night stands were concerned, she might have been thinking. But they’d have to deal with each other tomorrow.
Will you pack up and go away if we hit that bed together, Paxton? Will shame taint our business dealings after a night in the sack?
She might give up, he supposed, and give in, if shame played a part in a day-after scenario.
He had vowed to stay away from her for so many reasons, and look how that had turned out. The last of his willpower was fleeing because of a woman he’d just met.
All right, he wanted to say to Paxton. You can have it all, and to hell with your dad.
Of course, there was no way he could let Desperado go. Not now. Not ever. As alpha, he had responsibilities that lay beyond Paxton Hall, responsibilities to his pack and any other werewolf looking for help and direction.
How could he tell Paxton how easy it was for him to read her, or how much he shared her discomfort over this whole ordeal?
Pulling into the motel’s parking lot, Grant figured he could change the outcome here. He could drop Paxton off and say good-night. He was close to promising himself to do exactly that, in spite of his urges. Maybe, though, he should walk her to the door. Make sure she got safely inside.
She was out of the truck before he could get around it and coming straight at him. Grant thought she might finally raise a hand and slap him for that kiss. But she didn’t.
Stopping a few feet away from him, she stared. Seconds later, as though pulled by forces beyond her control, her body impacted with his.
So much for vows...
She was in his arms and looking up at him. There was only one thing to do in reaction to that.
Their mouths joined in a kiss that was hungry, angry, deep, and a heady surprise in a growing list of surprises. Touching Paxton’s hot, damp tongue with his was a torment. She nipped at him like an animal with its desire unleashed, as though her wolf was already partially in control of her actions. As if the longings of man and woman, wolf and she-wolf, had joined up, making lust a priority that
