Fuck.
Something else that had totally slipped his mind. And hers. And… Fuck.
…
He’d apologized. Instead of an act of weakness, it had been an act of respect—for her. And the wrong he felt he’d done. Wrong or not, it was unintentional. He’d been just as lost in the fire between them.
But now that they’d made their way back to the privacy of his suite, he wasn’t pressing her against the wall or dragging her to their bed. He was standing, staring, out one of the large windows that lined the far wall of his room. Agitation rolled off of him.
“What is it?” she asked, wishing they were more in tune.
With a sigh, he slammed a box on the dining room table.
“Condoms?”
He glanced at her. “We weren’t careful last night.”
“No, we weren’t.” She needed to be closer to him. “We were what our wolves needed us to be.”
He ran a hand through his hair, his sigh beyond exasperated. “Jesus, Ellen, you can’t write off the biological potential of what might have happened last night.” His tone was cool, clipped—the tone he used when he was working. “I know what Cyrus wants. If you…if we…” He stared at her stomach so long her eyes were burning.
The urge to breed was inherent. Even when she’d been used by Cyrus and the pack, the thought of a child had never bothered her. But time passed and she began to accept the truth. “If I were able to bear children, I would have. Cyrus was relentless with me. Perhaps it’s because of what my body has endured, but I can never give you a child.” She’d never said the words aloud. Once they were out, there was no taking them back. And now they hung there, weighing down the space between them. No matter how dismissive and blasé she tried to sound, the waver in her voice told another story.
Eyes pressed shut, his forehead thunked against the plate glass, a rough groan tearing from deep inside of him. “I want to kill him.” He pushed off the glass and spun, staring down at her. “I’m going to snap.”
There was nothing to say. She knew what he felt, the thrum to hunt and fight and kill could be crippling and dangerous, for him. His wolf had every right to be free, but it should happen under more controlled circumstances. One in which power was balanced—man and beast. Not now, when the wolf was trying to take over.
But she knew how to deal with his wolf: distract him.
“I know what will help,” she offered, closing the distance and pressing herself against him. The shuddering clench of his back muscles beneath her touch revealed how hard he was struggling. “More sex.”
He was laughing then. Laughing and dragging her into their room—with the box of condoms.
“I require you naked,” she said, unbuttoning his shirt.
He shrugged out of his shirt as she tugged his pants off. “Impatient?” he asked, his erection straining against his boxer shorts.
She stripped, trying to stay upright. “Yes. I miss the feel of you inside me,” she whispered.
He groaned and crushed her to him, his arms lifting her just enough to carry her to the bed and dump her onto the mattress. She was laughing when he tugged her to the edge of the bed.
“Condoms.” He was panting, hovering over her to roll one on.
She didn’t argue. Instead, she propped herself on her elbows. Just looking at him made her tighten with want. Beneath his conservative business attire was nothing short of masculine perfection. Big. Thickly muscled. Hard angles and rugged beauty. The broad expanse of his chest tapered to a narrow waist and hips. She leaned forward, eager to run a finger down the ginger trail that extended from his belly button to the rigid length of his erection. Her fingers brushed the impressive length, wrapping around him, and pulling a low moan from her chest.
She was pressed flat, Hollis over her, his hands holding hers against the mattress.
The wildness on his face had her wolf panting. The raw need. The lack of control. That’s when his wolf was most evident. Her wolf whimpe
red, hungry for him—hungry for his wolf. Seconds later, he was sinking deep—their joint moan bouncing off the hotel-room walls. There was no tenderness or technique, just drive, and she welcomed the way he claimed her. He let go of her hands to lift her hips. She cried out, swollen and sore from the night before. Her nails bit into his back and she held on, reeling from the intensity of his invasion.
“Ellen?” He worried over her, even now.
“Don’t stop,” she pleaded, arching into him.
He moaned, resuming his sweet assault on her willing body. It didn’t take long. She clenched around him, blissful as she fell apart in his hold. It began again almost as soon as it ended. He let go, slamming into her, driving her hunger into a quick peak, until she was coming again.
He climaxed with a roar, straining against her, every muscle rigid. Watching Hollis reach his release was liberating. This man was hers. And she pleased him. When he leaned forward to rest his head on her breast, she ran her fingers through his tangled copper curls.