Darcy Branwyn

…That was why they both needed it like this, as if they could somehow heal the fractures within themselves by pretending to fix the past.

Damn, no—she felt her throat closing up and tears burning her eyes.

Damnit, Danielle, not now. Stop with the tears. One broke free from her lashes, rolling down her cheek. He froze, and then he let out a breath and pulled her against him. She tucked her cheek against his sternum.

“S-sorry,” she heaved, more tears rolling down her face. “It just feels like it should have been like this, for us, but it didn’t happen.”

She felt his chin at the top of her head; he held her tighter. “I know,” he said finally, his voice rough.

She sniffed. “Did I just ruin everything?”

“No. You just delayed it by a few minutes.”

She laughed despite herself. God, how she loved this man. She’d do anything for him.

She took a few breaths, getting herself under control, and wondering what she was supposed to say next to get back into character. He saved her the trouble, lifting his head to look at her, his eyes black and his cheekbones lifted into the beginnings of the wolf. He wanted to look more like the beast that she’d told him she wanted.

“Do you even know,” he growled all low and sexy, “what a man does with a woman?”

She swallowed. What to say? “I think it has something to do with being naked.”

He smiled. “Among other things. I’ll show you.”

She nodded.

Lothar touched her chin with his fingertips, her head lifting automatically to expose her throat. He traced a warm line between her breasts, down to her belly button. His hand slid over her stomach to her waist. He pulled her to him hard, Danielle grunting. He bent his head and kissed her again, now more forceful even as her mouth opened further to take him…