Hero: Powell, park ranger bear shifter, loner.

Heroine: Olivia, blind wolf shifter (unable to shift), promised to the alpha of the pack, but has run away.

 

The bed rocked as he moved close, his knees touching Olivia’s thigh. She put her hands in the air and felt for his face, and he guided her hands to his cheeks. “Right here,” he said.

She cupped his cheeks, warm with exertion or embarrassment or merely life, the scruff of a day or two’s beard. Mouth parted, she ran her index finger around the curve of his jawline. Strong and angular, he must be very attractive. His lips were smooth and soft, but she knew that from the kiss. When she ran her finger down the bridge of his nose, he shivered, and she lightened her touch, feeling one eyebrow, the other, then feathering each row of lashes.

“Mmmm.” He let out a groan. “That feels good. Like your touch is healing or stress-relieving.”

She didn’t answer but continued to trace his features in the darkness of her mind. She splayed her fingers in his hair, then moved on to his neck and his broad shoulders, massaging and feeling the strong muscles. No wonder he’d been able to carry her so easily. Her breath quickened.

“Powell?”

“Hmmm?”

“Kiss me?”

He leaned in, his lips meeting hers, and she arched against him, opening her mouth to let him explore and to revisit the magical sensations his kiss had brought to life the day before. She wouldn’t stop and she hoped he felt the same. He growled and pushed her back onto the bed, lying alongside her, his hand in the small of her back and keeping her pressed against him.

She kissed him back and tugged at his shirt, trying to pull it off and feel him at the same time. He pulled away, and for a brief moment she worried he didn’t want her—then he came back, his mouth crushing hers. She wrapped her arms around him, and her hands found bare skin, hot to the touch. Muscles flexing and moving as he kissed her jawline and down her neck.

He pulled back again, his breathing ragged. “Are you sure you want this, Olivia? I don’t want to take advantage of you. I couldn’t bear to hurt you.”

“Yes!” She tried to tug him toward her. “Please. I need you.”

“Shit.”

“What is it?” A lump lodged in her throat. Did he not want her?

“I don’t have any condoms.”

She smiled. “Wolves know when their fertile times are, and this is not my time. And you know shifters don’t carry human disease. We don’t need a condom.” She tugged at her shirt hem. “I want the warmth of your skin on mine. I want to see you with our touch.”

“I’ve no argument with that.” He slipped off her shirt and bra, giving a quick kiss to each nipple before pushing her back on the bed and sliding her pants and underwear off. She’d have had to be deaf to not hear his intake of breath. Was he pleased?

What she wouldn’t give to see him.

He stood and she heard clothing hit the floor, one piece after another. A louder thump.

His pants.

Her legs quivered from excitement, a little fear, and the chill in the room. She held her arms out to him. “Hurry. I need to feel you.”

“Honey, you’re going to feel me, all right. And you’re going to love it.” He clambered back onto the bed, and it shook under him.

She giggled. “Is that so?”

“Have I ever lied to you?” He placed his hands on either side of her hips and slid her toward him.

“Well, not that I know of.”

He pinched her thigh gently. “I don’t lie. If I promise you something, I mean it.”

“Then make me love it.” She let her legs fall open.

“Not so fast. I need you to be ready.”

“I am ready.” She tried to sit up but he pushed her down.

No sooner than her head hit the quilt, his fingers traced her inner thighs and streaks of pleasure raced up to her core. Feather-light touches followed, growing ever closer to her sex, and she panted in anticipation.

“I want you to enjoy this.” He stroked the fine hair on her mound, dipping inside little by little.

“I am.” She breathed, her hips automatically responding to his touch and pushing forward, seeking more.

“That’s it. Relax.”

Eyes closed, she watched the colors of pleasure swirl in her darkness. When he slid one finger inside her, she cried out and bucked her hips forward. This was what being with one’s mate felt like? Nothing else would ever come close.

She was sure he was smiling, so she lay still except for her body’s growing need to push against him. He had two fingers inside now, or maybe three, and his thumb pressed rhythmically on her clitoris. She strained to capture the pleasure, pushing against him. Slowly, the snow disappeared then the cabin, the room, the bed…and all that was left was Powell and his fingers.

The orgasm hit her hard and fast, and she cried out without shame as waves of sensation pulsed through her. Powell wasted no time. As soon as she relaxed he moved between her legs and positioned his cock against her then pushed.

She breathed in as he entered her. She’d not ever seen stars except in her dreams, but she saw them behind the window shades of her eyes now as he thrust into her again and again. His weight on top of her didn’t give her much room to move, but she tried to meet every thrust with a counter of her own, taking him as deeply as she could, savoring the long strokes as he made love to her.

How long had they been together? She couldn’t tell. Maybe it was nightfall or a week later. Powell’s lovemaking had made her lose all sense of time.

He sped, the thrusts shorter and faster. Warmth spread through her, like a puddle of sunshine, and she tipped her head back to savor the sensation. He kissed her throat and nipped at her collarbone and she giggled. With another push, long and strong, he paused and laid his head on her shoulder as he came undone with a long, low groan. She wrapped her arms around him and held him close.

Was it possible for a bear and a wolf to mate forever?

If anyone could, it had to be them. Powell felt so perfect. So right.

She’d ask Shoshannah.

But not yet. Now, she would enjoy Powell some more.

 

 

About Kerry Adrienne:

USA Today bestselling author Kerry Adrienne is repped by Marisa Corvisiero at Corvisiero Literary Agency. Kerry writes in many sub-genres of romance including paranormal, science fiction, erotic, m/m, time travel, and many more. She loves history, science, music, and art and is the mom to three daughters, many cats, and various other small animals. She loves live music and traveling most anywhere.

In addition to being an author, she’s a college instructor, artist, costumer, editor, and bad guitar player. 

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