A Werewolf to Call Her Own (Mystic Isle, Book 2) Read Online Free Page A

then they’d allowed her to get a computer. The internet was ridiculously informative. Sometimes incorrect and crass, but amazingly diverse.
    He laughed. “Your list?”
    She opened her eyes, feeling a blush creeping into her cheeks. How did she explain her list? Especially to a man like him? She licked her lips.
    He groaned.
    “My bucket list. All the things I want to do in my life.”
    The corners of his mouth turned up ever so slightly. “You sound like an ancient.”
    She’d heard of them. Never met one. She shook her head, bravery seeping into her like a slow release drug. “You wouldn’t understand. But tonight…” She dropped her gaze to the pearlescent button of his shirt. Then she looked into his eyes again. “Tonight is like the first night of my life.”
    He was silent for a long time, studying her. Obviously trying to figure out her meaning.
    “What else is on this list of yours?”
    His voice was soft, inquisitive, but rich like the finest Swiss chocolate. The fact that he didn’t laugh at her, didn’t question her past, think her young and silly… she lost a little of her heart right then.
    “Build a sandcastle. Dance in the rain. See a live orchestra. Swim with dolphins. Play my violin on stage in front of a sold out hall.” Every item she listed off made her excitement grow. She could hear her voice getting higher, her words coming out quicker.
    He reached for her left hand and examined her fingertips. “How long have you played?”
    “Since I was four.”
    “A child prodigy.”
    She looked away. “Something like that.”
    He released her hand and cupped her cheek. She rubbed against it, soaking in his heat. When he tipped her chin up and leaned close, she closed her eyes and let out a shuddering breath.
    “Open your eyes,” he whispered.
    She complied.
    “I want you to see who’s kissing you, so you’ll remember.”
    She swallowed. He ducked his head until a mere inch separated them. She was positive she’d remember this moment for the rest of eternity. His gentle strength, barely leashed restraint, beautiful eyes, that kissable mouth. It would be so easy to lose herself in his touch. Forget the here and now, who she was, and why she was here. But she knew that he, them, this moment, would be unforgettable.
    He trailed a thumb against her cheek and then closed the distance. Warm lips roamed hers, softly at first. A gentle quest that made her feel light and airy. Her fingers flexed against his chest, then curled into his shirt. Amazing.
    Why did it feel so good? Lips against lips? Just flesh and yet it was… incredible. A connection like she’d never known.
    His hips shifted against her and she felt the undeniable evidence of his desire. So maybe it was possible that a man like him could want a girl like her.
    “Oh, I want you, sweetheart,” he said, his lips a scant half centimeter from hers. Far enough away to speak, but close enough that they brushed against hers, igniting a fiery desire deep inside. “God knows you deserve better, but don’t doubt for a second that I’m hard because of you.”
    Who was he to talk of deserving?
    Hands sweating, she pressed her lips against his.
    She’d read somewhere that biting, nibbling, and nipping were commonplace during sex, and for the first time she understood the desire. She wanted to eat him up. Not just taste his blood, that too, but to nip and nibble those sexy lips. His square chin.
    His left hand drifted down and wrapped gently around her throat, and another rush of moisture wet her core. Thrown by the marvelous response from her body, she was shocked when his tongue swept along the seam of her lips. Surprised further by the way her body seemed to come alive, shifting against him of its own accord. Softening, molding against his strong frame, growing wetter with each and every kiss.
    His tongue swept inside her mouth, hot and wet. Not asking. Just taking. Another flush ran over her skin and she sighed, melting against him