“O-okay.”

Her borrowed T-shirt went first. He pulled it over her head and tossed it in the general direction of his sofa. Then he reached around and unclasped the bra, slipping it off her shoulders. She let it drop but then raised her arms, trying to cross them in front of herself protectively. He was having none of that, and pushed her arms down, baring her to his hungry gaze.

“Uh-uh. No hiding from me,” he scolded gently, cupping the creamy globes. “You’re perfect.”

Her cheeks turned rosy. “I wish they were bigger.”

An unwanted image of Jacee’s breasts, full and pendulous, came to the fore. A few days ago, he’d been happy lusting after them—and the rest of her as well—whenever the mood struck. Studying Kira now, he couldn’t imagine what he’d ever found attractive about women like Jacee or Alexa. They were nowhere near Kira’s class of lady in his mind—smart, spunky, and adorable.

“Does this make you feel good?” Bending low, he captured a nipple with his teeth, grazing the peak.

“Oh, yes. It does.” Her hands buried themselves in his hair.

“And this?” He sucked the pebble, laved it.

“Yes! Jax . . .”

“Feel how you affect me.” Taking one of her hands, he guided it to the bulge between his legs. Cupped her fingers around his tight balls through the denim and moved it upward, rubbing along the rod that reached damn near to his belly button. Her touch was like fire even through his clothing. When he got naked, she’d probably roast him alive. “Does that prove I find you incredibly desirable?”

She smiled, lifted her chin to gaze at him. “Well, it does make a pretty strong case.”

God, he couldn’t wait anymore. “Hang on. Wrap your legs around me.”

With little effort, he hoisted her up and she did as he asked. Wrapping his arms around her, he cupped her bottom and strode for his bedroom, enjoying how she fit in his arms. He liked carrying her and the action did weird things not only to his libido, but to this protective side that continued to plague him. The one that shouted Mine! in his brain and confused the hell out of him.

Beside his king-sized bed, he let her slip to the floor and wasted no time shoving the offending jeans down and off her slim hips. She toed off her shoes, held on to him as she got rid of her socks, and stood before him in nothing but a pair of peach-toned panties. He drank in the sight of her.

She was a pretty, petite package with slender legs that seemed to go on forever despite her short stature. Delicate toes sported a dark hue of red polish. Her shoulder-length blond hair was mussed some from taking off her shirt and if he had his way, it would soon be tousled beyond repair.

“No fair,” she protested, blue eyes wide. “I want to see some skin.”

Another wave of citrus and vanilla teased his nose, this time darkened with the unmistakable aroma of pure want. Something about her called to him in a way no other female ever had and he was too weak to resist.

He made short work of his clothes, ripping off his shirt and kicking aside his shoes, socks, and jeans. His turgid cock pointed straight at her, begging to be stroked. She stepped closer and reached out to smooth a hand over his right shoulder, admiring the tribal tattoos. He let her explore, loving her curious touch. Gradually, she inched around, examining how the scrollwork spilled down his back.

“This is beautiful. Do all of your friends have one?” With one finger, she outlined the design on his right shoulder blade. The silhouette that symbolized his inner beast, ears flat, jaws open, canines ready to shred his enemy.

“Yes. We had them done as sort of a memorial.” He thought of how to explain. “When we were attacked by rogue wolf shifters in Afghanistan, most of our squad was killed. We thought the tattoos made a fitting tribute to them, to what we’d become, and how we’d never let our enemies get the best of us again. A ward against evil, I guess.”

“Did it work?”

“No,” he said softly. Now was not the time to get into the ambush that had wiped out half of the Alpha Pack team and left him crippled. The massacre he was partly responsible for because he’d let the wrong woman past his defenses.

Beryl. Treacherous whore.

The team refused to believe Jax was just as much at fault as Terry. But Jax knew better. Not only had he trusted Beryl, which had led to disaster, but he had a chance to use his gift as a Timebender when he realized who’d betrayed them, and squandered it.

My fault. I own that failure, no one else.

Ruthlessly, he shoved down the horrible guilt and focused on Kira. Her scent, her warmth pressed to his side. He’d never let another woman hold his heart, but his body was another matter. And his burned for the angelic blonde with the innocent blue eyes.

But maybe she wasn’t as “innocent” as she appeared.

To her credit, she didn’t ask any more questions about the tattoo and from what evil it had failed to protect them. Nor did she ask about the scars marring the flesh on his right leg, though her eyes briefly drifted over them. She continued her journey, mapping his body with those soft hands as though memorizing every hill and valley. Her warm palms skimmed his pecs, teased his nipples. They poked out for her and he shivered involuntarily, gooseflesh breaking out on his chest and arms.

Laughing quietly, delighted, she ventured lower, fixing her gaze on his straining erection. From the hum of approval as she trailed one finger over its length, she was indeed no blushing innocent in the bedroom. Why did thinking of her with another male make him want to rip something apart? Clamping his mind down on that train of thought, he concentrated on soaking up her attentions.

When she wrapped her fingers around his cock and gave a couple of strokes, he nearly came like a fifteenyear-old getting his first diddle under the bleachers. “God, Kira,” he rasped. “On the bed, before I lose control.”

She smirked, appearing very pleased with herself. “What if I want you to?”

“I will, when I’m buried inside you.”

The unmistakable scent of lust rolled off her, inciting his wolf to near-mindless excitement. His beast was clawing his gut, howling at him to claim her, and he held the urge at bay with a superhuman effort as he flung back the covers.

She climbed onto the bed and he pounced, flipping her onto her back. Her merry squeal, that inner light radiating from her, did something funny to his insides, but he chose to ignore the feeling. Because if he didn’t, he might be forced to acknowledge that she was too good to be here, rolling around with him. And his conscience wasn’t welcome at this party.

He suckled and laved her breasts as she ran her hands over his shoulders and squirmed. Then he headed south, kissing his way down her flat belly, dipped his tongue into her navel and made her giggle. And then lower until he crouched between her thighs, hooked his fingers in her panties, and began to work them down.

She lifted for him a bit and he pulled the peach silk down her legs and off, tossing it away. All humor fled her expression and she spread wide for him, granting him a tantalizing view that made his mouth water.

“Oh, yeah,” he murmured.

Crouching low, he nuzzled her mound. Gave her pretty slit a long, slow lick. Damn, she tasted good, sort of sweet, just like her scent. Her flavor was like ambrosia exploding on his tongue and he laved her greedily, his selfish desire to lap up as much of her essence as possible almost equal to his desire to please her.

She squirmed, burying her fingers in his hair and clutching his scalp. He licked every inch and then parted the tender folds, stabbed his tongue into her entrance, fucking the slick channel as her hips began to move, grinding her into his face. God, he loved it!

“Oh! Oh, Jax, yes!”

“Taste so fine, angel.” Lick. “So fuckin’ sweet, like candy.”