N. Walters - Finding Chrissten

He didn’t know and didn’t care.

He could smell Brian’s scent on her skin. It permeated her flesh, a never-ending reminder that she belonged to another. It marked her as surely as a brand and would only disappear with Brian’s death.

Most males wouldn’t be able to stand the stench of another male on their female. Werewolves were nothing if not possessive.

But Hank wasn’t most men and Chrissten belonged to him. He knew Brian’s claim to her was only temporary. The moment Hank found him, he would kill him and free Chrissten.

He’d deal with him eventually. But tonight was all about Chrissten, about what she needed from him at this moment. He took a deep breath and concentrated on the light floral scent that clung to Chrissten’s skin and blocked out the deeper, musky tones. The possessive wolf inside him wanted to rub his body over every inch of her skin, letting his scent coat her silky smooth flesh. It wouldn’t get rid of Brian’s smell, but it would help mask it.

Touch was such a basic human thing and so necessary, especially to their kind. Wolves were pack animals. Social. And touch was a way to express how they felt about one another—a hand on a shoulder, a hug, a pat. Between a mated pair touch was even more vital. It helped connect them to one another, to solidify their bond.

Brian had abused his position as mate. Denying Chrissten the most basic comfort. Hurting her when he should have been cherishing her.

His loss was Hank’s gain.

Chrissten’s skin was glistening with perspiration. Worry darkened her beautiful blue eyes and he wanted to tell her not to worry, but saved his breath. She wouldn’t totally relax until Brian and his group were found and dealt with. He didn’t blame her. He was always on alert himself, even more so than usual. Brian would come for her. Hank knew it in his gut.

He brushed back a lock of hair that had escaped from her braid. She turned her head slightly into his touch. That little action made him feel like the king of the world.

His life used to be simple. Basic.

Now it was complicated beyond measure. He was in love with a female who was already mated, a female with complex issues when it came to mating and sex. If he were smart he’d walk away from her.

But it was already too late. Chrissten was in his heart and soul. She belonged to him in a way he couldn’t begin to describe. And he belonged to her.

She was worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. He couldn’t resist leaning down and running his tongue over the small injury. Soothing it.

She released a small sigh, her breath a light puff against his face.

He smiled at her, ignoring the pounding in his temples and the pulsing in his groin. “Tell me if I do anything you don’t like.”

“Okay.” She tried to relax. He could see the way she took a deep breath and consciously unclenched her hands.

He shook his head. This wasn’t going to work unless he could get her out of her head and more into letting her body simply feel and enjoy the experience.

Talking wasn’t going to help, and delaying was only serving to make her even tenser than she’d been. Not good.

Letting his instincts guide him, Hank reached behind his head, grabbed a handful of fabric and yanked his shirt off. He tossed it aside and swooped down to kiss Chrissten in one motion.

He took it slow, letting their mouths touch, then meld tighter. Her lips were soft and warm. He was very aware of her every movement, every action. She was still wound up tighter than a coiled spring.

He gently ran his tongue along the seam of her mouth and pushed inward. She gave a little gasp but yielded. Tension seeped out of her body as if she’d finally exhaled and let go.

Hank teased her tongue with his, lapped at the inside of her mouth and stroked her bottom lip. She responded to each and every touch. Her breathing was becoming more rapid, a new tension seeping into her bones. This one was good though. Sexual tension brought a heightened awareness with it, their senses growing sharper.

He brought his hand up and carefully covered her left breast. Through the thin fabric of her nightgown, he felt the heavy thud of her heart against the heel of his hand. She clutched at his wrist, not to push him away but to press him closer.

Fuck, yes. This was the reaction he was hoping for. He wanted her to want him.

He rubbed his thumb gently over the distended nipple, drawing a low moan from her. His jeans were way too tight, but he didn’t dare remove them. He’d given Chrissten his word and he would not break it. She was fragile enough at the moment, her trust a delicate and treasured thing. He wouldn’t do anything to destroy it.

He shoved the sheets down to her waist. He wanted to throw the damn things on the floor but it was too soon to do anything of the sort. Patience was the key.

Hank ignored the pounding of his blood through his veins, the howling of his wolf within him, the never-ending ache of his cock. This was all about Chrissten.

The nightgown she wore had four buttons and he slowly undid them one at a time, exposing a thin swath of pale skin. Her flesh was warm and goose bumps rose beneath his fingers.

He glanced up at her face to gauge her reaction to what he was doing. Her eyes were closed, her lips parted as she sucked air into her lungs. He could tell she was still thinking too hard. Her eyes were scrunched tight and she was nibbling on her bottom lip once again.

Hurriedly, he spread the fabric wide, exposing two perfect mounds. Her breasts weren’t overly big or small. They were full and tantalizing, perfect for her height.

Hank cupped one breast and rubbed his thumb around the swollen areola. Chrissten whimpered and the small sound shot straight to his balls. Breathing became next to impossible as he struggled to keep from coming. If he was this aroused by a sound what would it be like if she actually touched him.

Bad thought. His cock jerked as if it approved of that idea. Every muscle in his body tensed, coiled, ready for action. He wanted her hands on his shoulders, his chest, his cock, wherever he could get them. His wolf paced restlessly inside him, urging him to get on with things.

Every cell in his body cried out for Chrissten. He took a deep breath and turned his laser focus on her. He leaned down and ran his tongue over the tight nub he’d aroused with his touch.

Chrissten moaned and her hands came up to clutch his shoulders. Her fingernails dug into his shoulders, the sting sweet. This was what he wanted, Chrissten lost to her own sensual desires. He wanted to feed them, to fan the sensual flames until she came. He wanted to replace her bad memories with ones of pleasure, of him.

He closed his lips over the hard nub and gently suckled. She speared her fingers through his hair and clutched his scalp, tugging him closer.

He was in heaven as he licked and sucked, petted and touched. Her legs scissored against the sheets, restricted by the gown she was wearing. He wanted to remove the garment but knew it was too soon for that.

“Hank.” His name was no more than a breath, a sigh, but it pierced his heart. To hear his name on her lips when she was in the throes of sensual desire sent his libido soaring to an entirely new level.

He prayed no one would decide to look in on Chrissten. He’d probably kill whoever came through the door and interrupted them. She was getting closer to losing control. All she needed was a little push.

A warm musky scent filled his nostrils and he inhaled deeply, taking it into his lungs. It was sweet and inviting. Chrissten was aroused.

He had to find out for sure, had to feel the wetness against his fingers.

While he continued to pleasure one breast and then the other, he shoved the sheet down until it hit her knees. The hem of her nightgown was up around her thighs and he slid his hand beneath it and started an upward journey.