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A damn good thing, because I’d just backed her against a porch column and pressed close. The blanket was draped around us both by then, and my hands slipped, tracing her ribs. Higher, higher…
Erin tipped her head back, freeing the way for me to kiss her neck. To nip. Her hands tightened around my neck, pulling me closer.
Drunk on her scent, I slid my hands higher, cupping the underside of her breasts. No bra, because she’d worn a T-shirt and boxers to bed. A huge plus, because the soft flesh fell right into my hands. Her nipples peaked, and when I swiped a thumb over one, she arched, fighting for control…but losing it.
Like me.
Chapter Nineteen
ERIN
Nash ran his teeth along my neck, making me shiver. Up to that point, my hands had been locked around his neck, but now, I slid one over his ass and pressed him close.
My heart pounded, and inside, I screamed,Yes, yes, yes!
This instinctive drive, this unquenchable desire… It had to be the shifter thing, right? Warlocks were renowned for their powers of seduction, but shifters had a reputation for sheer, physical magnetism. No trickery involved, unlike warlocks, because shifters were as powerless in love’s games as the objects of their desire.
“Mmm,” I mumbled into yet another kiss.
The breeze that ought to have cooled my body only fanned my desire, and the dirty side of my imagination went wild. If Nash held me a little higher, I could wrap my legs around his waist and…
Every cell in my body rushed toward that idea. Never mind our clothes or the cold or the fact that we were upright. We could do this. We could do anything. Anything we wanted, needed, or craved.
Nash pressed closer, clearly on board with that plan. Standing sex on my porch at midnight? Yes. Why the hell not?
The coyotes’ howls kept rising and falling, background noise to the rush in my ears. Then they all broke off at the same time.
Nash froze, listening. I tensed, turning to look.
Tick. Tick. Tick. The next few seconds passed in unsettling silence.
Then,Arooo…The coyotes started howling again. False alarm. The world could go on.
But they’d hit a pause button at exactly the wrong — or right — time. Nash and I looked at each other, breathing hard.
His eyes blazed. Would we do the smart thing and stop while we could? Or would we throw caution to the wind and dive back in?
A split second later, Nash crushed into a hard, deep kiss, and we both careened over the edge.
I clawed at his jeans. He tugged at my clothes. The blanket slipped halfway off his shoulders.
This,I wanted to order Nash.That. Now. But my thoughts were a jumble, and all I could do was pull him inside. He shoved the door closed behind him, but it caught on the blanket.
“Dammit,” he muttered, trying again.
I laughed, though it came out more like a yowl.
“Over here,” I ordered, tugging him.
He slammed the door a second time and stalked toward me, eyes ablaze.
The next few seconds were a blur, though it would be easy to reconstruct events later, given the trail we left behind. My robe… His jeans… My shirt… His boxers…
Every layer lost was an acre gained of hard, straining muscle and smooth, warm skin. Hard edges on his body, soft curves on mine. I found a scar on his chest and another on his side, but I was too intent on another destination to spend much time there.
I wrapped my fingers around his hard shaft, making Nash hiss.
I considered the loft, but beds were for civilized sex, and there was nothing tame about the instincts driving us now.
