SECRET OF THE WOLF By Susan Krinard

Not his pleasure, at any rate. All he’d done was to cause her trouble. Tonight, he’d bring her joy. And she wouldn’t have to sacrifice anything but an hour’s governance of her body.

As for her heart…

Wasn’t it what he’d wanted, to break down that shell of cool restraint? But he’d never really believed it would come to this. He’d been so careful to avoid closeness with other human beings for the last several years. Was it because he thought Johanna was safe from his wiles that he’d dared so much with her, risked such intimacies?

If so, his scheme had backfired. Now he felt the heavy weight of responsibility. He might be weak, a coward and a scoundrel, but he had enough honor to keep her away from the crumbling brink of complete disaster. To regard tonight as a one-time miracle, not the beginning of a future that could never be.

As for tomorrow… it would take care of itself, one way or another. He believed in Johanna’s good sense. And in his own instinct for survival.

She bent to kiss him again, and this time he met her halfway. He spread his hands across her back and kissed her as he’d always wanted to, without reserve or second thoughts: deeply, thoroughly, teasing her lips apart with his tongue and seeking inward. Her panting breath swept into his mouth.

Already he could feel her nipples like firm little buttons pressing his chest. She smelled exquisitely of woman, perspiration, and the unmistakable scent of desire. Her thighs straddled his, round and firm. Instead of shying away from the thrust of his manhood, patently outlined through the sheets that barely covered him, she rubbed herself against it.

He groaned. “Johanna,” he said, “unless you want this to end very quickly, you’d better stop.”

“Am I doing something wrong?” She sat up, her gaze sweeping from his face to his loins. Her hand found him, unerringly, and stroked, tugging the sheet below his hipbones. “This is the source of pleasure, is it not?”

“Yes,” he said through his teeth. “Bloody hell—excuse me, Johanna.” He caught her hand and lifted it away from him. “You’re just too good at it.”

She smiled. “Am I? I have been a student of human nature for a long time. And I know my anatomy—”

“It isn’t all anatomy.” He grabbed the edge of the sheet and pulled it higher as he sat up, afraid that if he didn’t keep himself covered he’d find his way inside her. Before she could see his movement as a rejection, he cupped her hands between his.

“Do you know where the center of your pleasure is, Johanna?”

The darkness wasn’t enough to hide the flush in her cheeks from eyes like his. “I believe so.”

“Have you ever touched it yourself?”

The blush cascaded down her neck to the collar of her nightgown. “I… have never been one of those who holds that such activity is a form of abuse that can lead to blindness and insanity. But I have not…” She swallowed. “Not purposely.”

He tried not to imagine how she might have done so accidentally. “Then you’ll have to allow me to show you.”

“Right now?” Her voice squeaked several notes higher.

“In a few moments.” He slid his hand up her arm to her shoulder. “Relax, Johanna. This is supposed to be enjoyable.”

“I know.” She made a visible effort to loosen her muscles. “What is next, then?”

“This is also not a textbook lesson,” he said, working his hand under the open collar of her nightgown. “There are no rules.”

“No. Of course not.” She held very still while he undid a few buttons and brushed his fingers down from her collarbone to the deep cleft between her breasts.

He’d thought of this countless times, holding her naked breasts in his hands. She was bountiful, richly endowed, any man’s dream of abundance. She had no idea how desirable she was.

Slowly he covered her breast with his hand. She gasped. Her firm nipple rubbed against his palm. He curved his fingers around it, squeezing with utmost gentleness. She closed her eyes.

“It feels—”

“Tell me how it feels, Johanna.”

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