"You don't have to get me drunk to have your wicked way with me," I said, as Kellen climbed into the car and the driver closed the door behind him.

"Oh, I know." He reached for the glasses and the wine. "But we've officially been an item for a whole six weeks. And as that's something of a record for me, I thought it worth a celebration."

"So all the rumors of you being a ladies' man are true?"

"Alas, yes. But all it took was the right woman to curb my straying ways." He poured the wine and handed me a glass, then raised his own. "To the right woman."

I clicked my glass against his, and said teasingly, "I'd love to say 'to the right man' but hey, I'm not entirely sure you're him yet."

He made a low sound deep in his throat, and pulled me toward him. "I am the right man. In fact, I intend to be the only man in your life." He kissed me hard, leaving me breathless, then added, "And for the next twelve hours, you are mine, and only mine."

Twelve hours? Oh my.

I took a sip of the wine that did little to curb the heat of excitement. Then, as the limo drove off smoothly, I leaned forward and tasted the same tangy sweetness on his lips.

"You do taste very nice."

"I'd taste even better if you were naked."

I raised an eyebrow, amusement teasing my lips. "And how does me being naked make you taste better?"

"Everything tastes better when there's nakedness involved."

"Such a male response."

"Well, I am a male."

I let my gaze roam down his lean, strong body. Wolves tended not to get muscle-bound—it just wasn't in our makeup—but that didn't mean the male of our species was in any way weedy. Just that they tended to be built like athletes rather than bodybuilders.

"It seems you are," I said, letting my gaze rest briefly, teasingly, on his lap. "However, I refuse to be the only one to get naked in this car."

Amusement touched his lips. "Then shall we remove our clothing?"

"Or remove each other's?"

"An even better idea."

He proceeded to strip me—slowly and deliciously—his fingers sliding so sensually across my skin, teasing and arousing. Then I did the same to him, allowing my hands to roam across the wealth of his chocolate-colored skin, reveling in the heat of it, the steel of muscles rippling underneath it every time he moved.

When we were finally both naked, I settled on his lap, enjoying the tease of closeness as I wrapped my arms around his neck and stared for several seconds into his beautiful green eyes. Then I kissed him, long and lingering.

"I want you," he said, after a while, his voice rough, urgent.

"But you can't have me. Not yet."

"Then what can I have?"

"Oh, this and that." I slid my rump down his legs until I was kneeling in front of him. Desire and anticipation swirled around me, so thick, so strong that it sent little droplets of perspiration skittering across my skin. I lightly ran my tongue across the base of his penis. His groan of pleasure was all the encouragement I needed to continue.

I licked my way up and down his shaft, occasionally taking in his balls, enjoying the tremble of pleasure that ran through his body, the way his cock leapt and throbbed with eagerness. I smiled and swirled my lips around the tip of him before taking him fully into my mouth.

Again he groaned—a sound thick with enjoyment—as I drew him deeper, sucking and tasting and teasing him until his movements became desperate and the salty taste of him began seeping into my mouth.

But I didn't let him cross that line. He made a sound thick with frustration when I pulled back, then his hands wrapped around my arms and he was pulling me up, pulling me close, as his mouth claimed mine.

As kisses went, it was pretty much meltdown material.

"Now it's your turn to ache," he whispered, after a while.

And he set about doing that very thing, touching and teasing, making me tremble and ache as I could never remember aching.

"Enough," I said, as he brought me to the edge for what seemed like the umpteenth time, only to back away again.

He laughed softly, his eyes sparking with so much desire and caring that something trembled deep inside. "Then what do you want now?"

"You," I said, and thrust down on him, claiming him in the most basic way possible.

He groaned and slid his hands to my hips, his grip almost bruising as he pressed me down harder. I echoed his groan, loving the way he felt inside.

I began to move and he was right there with me, kissing and caressing, driving me wilder with need. The deep down ache bloomed, becoming a kaleidoscope of sensations that washed pleasure through every corner of my mind, I thrust my head back, gasping for breath as the need for completion built and built. Only the air itself seemed to burn as fiercely as my skin.

Then the shuddering began and I grabbed his shoulders, pushing him deeper still, wanting to feel every inch of him through every inch of me. Pleasure exploded as his movements became faster, more urgent.

"Look at me," he growled.

I opened my eyes and met his gaze, and again something quivered deep inside. Desire and passion and something else—something that seemed a whole lot like possession—seared those depths, stirring me in ways I didn't think possible.

"You are mine," he said, and his hoarse voice seemed to echo through every fiber of my being.

Yes, I thought. Oh God, yes.

And then all thought evaporated as the passion between us exploded and I was quivering, trembling, whimpering, as his warmth spilled into me.

Sated, I collapsed against him, sucking in his spicy, sweaty scent with every intake of breath, feeling it fill me, consume me, as his body had consumed me. Somehow, it seemed so right. He wrapped his arms around me, holding on tight, and for one brief moment, I had that oh so glorious sensation of belonging.

It was in the middle of that one perfect moment that the phone rang.

"Leave it," Kellen said, kissing my forehead.

"I can't. It might be urgent." I pushed upright.

"You're still officially on vacation," he said, annoyance edging in his rich tones. "Nothing is so urgent that someone else can't take care of it."

"But it might be Rhoan." Though I doubted it. He obviously knew Kellen was picking me up from the airport, and he also knew about my fantasy involving the limo—a fantasy I hadn't finished with yet. He wouldn't disrupt us, no matter how urgent.

I reached into my handbag and pulled out my vid-phone. As I suspected, it wasn't Rhoan. It was Jack. He obviously knew I was back—thanks to the damn tracker permanently implanted in my car—but it was a little unfair for him to be ringing even before my holidays had finished. Of course, tonight was Halloween, and it was one of the busiest times of the year for the Directorate. Rather like hospitals during the full moon.

If I'd wanted to enjoy the full length of my vacation, I should have stayed on the island where the sheer distance between us made it impossible for Jack to call me in.

But I never actually got the chance to answer the phone and find out what Jack wanted, because Kellen took one look at the number, then plucked the phone neatly from my hand and threw it out one of the open windows. It hit the road hard and disintegrated into dozens of metal bits that went scattering everywhere.

For a moment, shock held me speechless. "What the hell—"

"You're on still on holidays," he cut in. "They have no right to be contacting you just yet."

Annoyance rolled through me, but so, too, did desire. Nothing got my hormones scurrying faster than a man taking charge for all the right reasons. Still, I couldn't help adding, "You just destroyed my phone. And it might have been important—"