Alphas of Red Moon Ranch(22)

His gaze remained locked on hers as his free hand danced down her sides, tracing the curves of her figure. From the swell of her breasts, down the dip of her waist, to her round hips, Holly felt his touch travel, slowly, painfully slowly, and she swallowed as her thighs clenched in anticipation.

“It unhooks in the back—” she started, hoping she could speed this process along a little by giving him some insight into her (admittedly complicated) wedding dress.

“Leave it on,” he ordered. There was a thickness to his voice, a tone she was quickly learning to recognize, and it drew a shudder from her.

Wedding dress fetish? Or maybe it had more to do with the fact that this was their wedding night and, for the first time since he’d seen her, he could finally, truly, claim her as his own. As though the dress—like the ring—was a mark of his territory, something he could be possessive over and proud of because it was his.

The Virginia Woolf-admiring feminist in her balked loudly at the idea, but her clit swelled so fully she could feel the sensitive nub poke out of its hood and brush against her panties with uncomfortably intense spikes of pleasure. Et tu, body?

Well. Why couldn’t she have her cake and eat it too? Especially when her cake was a dominant, viciously sexy Alpha who looked at her like he had half a mind to devour her. His hand reached her garter belt and he snapped it off her thigh with a single flick of his fingers before he rolled her stockings down her legs. Each movement was deliberate, his touch electric, and she felt like she was going mad.

Especially when he licked his lips and she saw the hint of fang there, extended past his lip. And then she remembered, quickly, that her husband wasn’t all human, that he was half Beast as well and this night was more than a wedding night. He wanted to take her, fully; he wanted to bite her and Mark her as his.

He’d explained that much to her before. In the dark, in his bed, the night she’d found out he was a shifter. The night he’d explained to her that he suffered a terrible affliction and that, if he didn’t make his mate soon, he could change into a bear and never change back.

“What is the Mark?” she’d asked, comforted by the blanket of nighttime shadows.

“A bite,” he’d told her, his voice like dark honey.

“Will it hurt?”

“Only for a second.” He’d hooked an arm around her then, holding her in close, and whispered into the shell of her ear, “And then I’m yours for a lifetime.”

And it sounded great, in concept, but suddenly, bare and vulnerable underneath him, with wedding jitters still zipping under her skin, she was getting cold feet about the whole getting Marked by an animal thing. Trapped underneath him, Holly said, “Kiss me, please.”

“Where?” he asked, that smug look playing on his face.

She wet her lips. He took the hint and arched over her, closing his mouth over hers. She pressed her tongue in and tasted him—warm wood, barley and hops, fiery passion. She flicked her tongue over his fangs—definitely extended. He shuddered at the sensation. He wanted to bite her; that much was clear.

She freed a hand from his grasp and drew it through his hair. Stroked it back, petting the Beast. Shhhh. She buttoned her bottom lip between her teeth briefly and then whispered, “Um…I know we talked about…Marking me…but what if we save that for another night?” Confusion flicked over his eyes—his animal was probably half-tempted to rip her head from her neck with one swipe of its paw—but she drew her nails over his scalp, trying to sooth him. “It’s just…I kind of wanted tonight to be…our wedding night. Just us. Not the Beast.”

As though the animal were some third party, some yappy dog they could kick out of the room and close the door on. If Jacob was frustrated, however, he didn’t show it (bless him). Instead, his expression softened and he cupped the side of her face in his palm and ran his thumb lovingly over her bottom lip. “Of course,” he said, and the sincerity in his voice almost made her throat tighten with emotion. “Tonight is about you.”

“Us,” she corrected. “Just us. No Beast.”

His eyebrows knitted, as though that was a distinction he’d never even thought to make, but even if he didn’t understand, he nodded once and kissed her mouth softly. Her fingers gripped his hair tighter and she deepened the kiss, drawing a new growl from him as his hips jutted against hers. She could feel it—now that his fangs were tucked away there was a much more immediate need pressing hard against her thigh. A whimper escaped Holly’s mouth as her legs wrapped around his hips and her feet crossed behind him, trapping him in against her. She needed him, now more than ever.