Hero of a Highland Wolf
Page 72

“Because you gave him the idea in the first place,” Colleen said sternly. When Grant opened his mouth to speak, she raised her hand to silence him. He cast her a small smile. “Not by giving him an order to do so, but by your actions earlier. Therefore, the responsibility is yours.”
“So you wish to punish me for it, then?” Grant asked, looking like he enjoyed the idea.
“Yes.” In a most agreeable manner. She couldn’t help it. Grant brought the wild wolf out in her. To Frederick, she said, “You are free to go. Thank you for telling me the truth.”
“Thank you, my lady.” Frederick beamed, but then he quickly glanced at Grant to see his take on it.
Looking pack leader serious, Grant shook his head. “In the future, remember what I said, lad.”
“Aye, no more doing things on my own without your permission,” Frederick said. He quickly dipped his head to both and hurried out of the study.
When the boy left, Grant approached Colleen. “You completely undermined me in front of my pack member.” He pulled her from the chair.
“You completely deserved it.” She wrapped her arms around his neck. “You weren’t supposed to talk to him about it.”
“I couldn’t have him feeling bad about whatever it was, and he needed to apologize to you. Are you done with your budgeting?”
“Only for the farms and the household budget. What did you have in mind?”
“Hot sex.” He released her and locked the study door.
“What…not in here.”
He waved his arm at the rich, chocolate-leather, Victorian-style chaise lounge sitting in a far corner, a plaid blanket tossed haphazardly over it. It reminded her of a place a Grecian lady would lounge while a toga-wearing muscled hunk—similar to a kilt-wearing hunk—fed her grapes before she seduced him. She smiled.
Surrounding it, the dark oak paneling was softly lit by wall sconces, giving it a warm glow. The books lining the shelves and reaching to the high ceiling and the flickering of the flames in the fireplace added to the coziness. Everything was ornate, the crown molding around the ceiling decorated in Celtic knots. Beautiful.
It could work.
She took Grant’s hand and led him to the chaise lounge and began kissing him. He wore jeans and a sweater, but not for long. The best part was that he wore the blue plaid boxers she’d displayed on the pirate’s flagpole at Argent Castle, and that made her smile. Right before she reached down and cupped him.
“I knew there was a good reason to wear this for you,” he said, his voice husky and his expression helplessly in lust.
“Yes,” she said in a hot and eager way.
Grant hadn’t planned this. He’d never imagined having his way with his mate in any place other than their bedchamber. As hard as he was, he’d never manage all the stairs to their chamber without being in some discomfort.
He soon had divested her of her soft sweater and jeans, smiling to see her wearing the bra he had so victoriously attached to the pirate’s flagpole, and kissed her more insistently. He bared her breasts, then leaned down to suckle one, not expecting her to melt onto the chaise lounge.
She smiled up at him, wearing only her pale blue lace thong and bra now. “All we need is a cluster of grapes that you could feed me—”
“We have all the fruit we need right here.” And then he slipped off his boxers and joined her, dragging her panties free and tossing her bra to the floor.
His hand curled in her silky hair. He kissed her mouth before he moved lower to suckle her breast again. This time, she couldn’t escape him.
Both their hearts drummed hard as their lusty scents mixed—she-wolf with male wolf, sweetness and spiciness. His erection pulsed against her thigh as he licked and pulled at her nipples with his lips, loving how they extended with his touch, loving her heated flesh.
He knew before he reached between her legs that he’d find her ready and wet, eager to accept his rigid cock.
Everywhere her hands touched him made his blood run hotter. He throbbed for her, needed release, needed her.
He loved how she took him to task about the lad, yet at the same time teased him about it. They were perfect for each other, perfect as mates and leaders of his pack.
Oh, yeah, perfect, he thought as his fingers sought to give her pleasure while his mouth met hers. Her eyes were closed, her expression one of concentration as he played with her clitoris, working it, bringing her higher. He pushed one of her knees up and then the other, spreading her. She smiled at him, her eyes half-lidded, her body open to him. And then he stroked her again until she cried out, involuntarily closing up on him.
He pushed her legs apart again and entered her hard, heard her gasp, and meant to pull out, but she stopped him with a harsh, “No.” With renewed vigor, he thrust into her with hearty and lusty need. She anchored her heels against his arse and thrust her hips, connecting with him forcefully.
“Lass,” he groaned as she gave him a cocky smile, knowing just how fast she could turn him into a powerful firestorm of craving, and just how quickly she could bring him to completion.
He continued to thrust, to prolong the glorious feeling of being tucked inside her hot, wet, velvety sheath.
Finished, but only for the briefest of times, he sank against her, their hearts still pounding hard and furiously, their breathing rushed, the only other sound the crackling of the logs in the fireplace.
He toyed with a curl of her hair caressing her shoulder and kissed her cheek. “Now you were saying about this cluster of grapes?”