Lone Wolf by Jennifer Ashley Page A

but her lips couldn’t form the words. She still struggled to think in English, and Ellison didn’t know much Spanish.
    “You’re here, Maria. Safe.” Ellison traced her cheek, increasing the warmth. “Not in the dark anymore. You don’t need to be afraid. And if you are afraid, you come to me.”
    Maria managed a smile. “And you’ll make it all better?”
    “I want to.”
    He leaned closer, and Maria’s back met the bole of the big tree. Ellison smelled of sweat and a small bite of blood, and of himself. The feral Shifters—all of them—had always stank. Ellison smelled of warmth and goodness.
    Maria turned her face up to him, rising on tiptoe to offer the kiss she wanted to give him. She couldn’t think of words, but she could show him with this.
    She found herself caught hard against Ellison’s bare chest, his hand snaking under her braid, he leaning into her. His mouth fit clumsily to hers, his lips moving before Maria was ready. Their teeth bumped, and Ellison lifted away, laughing a little, his eyes full of heat.
    “Shifters don’t kiss much,” he said. “At least, I don’t.”
    There hadn’t been much kissing in the feral pack either. No tenderness, not even between the males and females who’d cared for each other.
    “Nuzzling, yes.” Ellison leaned to her again, his nose touching her cheek, his breath warm. “I guess when you have a lot of nose, you tend to use it.”
    Maria wanted to laugh. No, not to laugh. To go quiet while he nuzzled her cheekbone.
    “I never kissed much either,” she said. When Luis had wooed her in the moonlight, before she’d known he was a Shifter, she hadn’t kissed him.
    This was new to her, as was Ellison’s gentleness. Luis had charmed her with his dangerousness, exciting to a naive and sheltered young woman like Maria. Ellison mitigated his strength for her, showing her he’d never let loose and hurt her.
    “We can learn together,” Ellison said, breath against her lips.
    Maria formed an unpracticed pucker, her blood warming as Ellison responded with light pressure. His hand, shirt still dangling from it, went to the tree, his lips firming against her mouth.
    Maria felt the strength of his entire body through the kiss, like a hum in the air between them as Ellison licked softly across her lips. She tasted salt and coffee on him, and a bite of himself.
    She clenched her hands at her sides. She could barely breathe, nothing existing but Ellison’s lips connecting with hers, his mouth tenderly prying hers open, his fingers working under her braid, loosening it.
    Another kiss, another slide of his tongue between her lips. Maria flicked her tongue over his in answer, the velvet heat of it stealing her breath.
    She should be afraid. She’d been afraid for such a long time. Ellison stood over her, his body against hers, pinning her with his mouth, his presence, himself. Maria should be afraid and want to duck away from him, to run, but she stayed, letting her hand steal to his chest.
    She warmed as she contacted the smooth heat of his bare skin, the wiry curls that dusted his chest. She found his heartbeat, his heart drumming as rapidly as hers.
    Maria slid her hand up to his neck, feeling the Collar around his throat, the raw skin it had burned. He’d been hurt, while he’d fought for Olaf, but he hadn’t stopped until Olaf was safe. She didn’t understand the whole story of what had happened inside the culvert, but she was too full of Ellison’s taste and warmth to break away and ask.
    He laced his fingers through her hair, caressing her neck as he deepened the kiss. Heat, sunlight, everything that was good and warm—Ellison.
    Ellison slid his hand down her neck to her back, the other still supporting him against the tree, the softness of his dangling shirt brushing her shoulder. Maria leaned into his embrace, the sweetness of his kiss unknotting her stomach. She flowed into comfort, into wanting.
    A small growl sounded, then air whooshed by her.