Bound to the Wolf Prince Read Free Page B

dispiriting,” he said, almost to himself, “to be so distrustful.”
    â€œYes, but it’s better to be safe than sorry, isn’t it?” Freya said forlornly. “Even if it does leave you feeling isolated.”
    Another chord struck, though it was not one Eoin wished to acknowledge. Kentarra and his people required his full attention. If he was lonely sometimes, well then, it was the price he had to pay for being a prince. Beside him, Freya’s skin was bright with the cold and the spray. Her hair tumbled over her shoulders, down her back, over her breasts, which were clearly outlined under the clinging damp of her robe. The way she held out her hands to warm them at the fire, the flush on her cheeks, the way she sat back, throwing her head back to look at the moon, everything about her was overtly sensual. This human female would provide a worthychallenge—were he seeking one—which he wasn’t. Which didn’t mean he couldn’t tease her a little. Rolling towards her, he took Freya completely unawares, pulling her down on top of him.
    â€œWhat do you think you’re doing?”
    â€œI’m warming you up.”
    His eyes were fascinating. Amber—but was there a hint of green? Hypnotic. His mouth was just inches from hers. His fingers tangled in her hair. His body was solid underneath her. “I’m not cold,” Freya said, shivering. She should move. She braced her hands on his chest to lever herself up. Soft hair. Hard muscle. She shivered again.
    Eoin trailed his fingers down her back, to the perfect curve of her bottom. In the firelight, her eyes were flecked with gold. Her scent was like an exotic perfume. “Your clothes are soaking wet.”
    â€œThey’ll dry soon enough.” She should move, but she felt too heavy. She couldn’t seem to catch her breath. She couldn’t seem to break eye contact. Eoin’s fingers were stroking her neck under her hair. His other hand was splayed over her rump. What was he doing to her? She really should move.
    Eoin nestled her closer. “They’ll dry much quicker if you take them off,” he said wickedly.
    â€œI’m fine just the way I am.”
    â€œNever a truer word spoken,” Eoin replied. Then he succumbed to temptation and kissed her.
    Freya had been kissed before. Kisses had been stolen from her, planted on her like unwanted presents, plucked from her like unripe fruit, but she had never been kissed like this. A giving which was at the same time a taking. A possession which was also a submission. Eoin’s kisses had the dark potency of an elixir, the allure of the illicit. Faol. Man. Wolf. He tasted of fire and smoke. Of peril and possibilities. Of the unknown, and the unknowable. He tasted of desire. She felt it too. Desire. Warm and sweet as heather honey, trickling through her veins. His tongue flicked along the soft skin on the inside of her mouth, then it touched hers. Sparks of feeling like the spray of the ocean. Freya’s heart bumped, fluttered, bumped. She couldn’t breathe. She didn’t want to.
    The scent of their arousal clung around them like a sea mist. Bittersweet, vanilla and spice. The rush of pleasure she gave him was reminiscent of the visceral thrill of shape-shifting. He was ravenous. She was ravishing. Drinking deeper of her, Eoin thrust his tongue into her mouth, rolling her over onto her back, nuzzling the crook of her neck, licking into the valley between her breasts, his breathing ragged. “Delightful,” he murmured, his hands tracing the curve, tugging at the laces at the front of her robe. “Delicious,” he said, as the laces loosened allowing her breasts to spill over her stays. He loosed these too, pleasure settling weightily in his groin as he saw how tightly-budded were her nipples. He rolled his tongue around them, first one then the other. His fingers stroked down, seeking the hem of her robe.
    Freya had been