Down & Dirty 2: Calling the Bluff

Chapter One

Hazel closed her eyes, propped her chin on her hand and, for the fifth time that day, told herself it was time to be a good girl and fuck Noah Hampton.

Even without looking she could feel his gaze on her, a heavy weight fraught with anticipation. He’d brought another courting gift to the Full Moon Saloon this afternoon, the third in as many days. Hazel glanced down at the cookbook resting on the bar and admired its cheerful shiny cover. Finding books which predated the War was a challenge, but she’d mentioned to him the first time she met him that she loved books and he’d obviously jumped through hoops to find a present she would value.

Few people out on the plains could afford the luxuries of pre-War books and gadgets. Hazel had vague memories of the cities back East, where rich people lived in the gigantic skyscrapers that had once housed businesses with technology she could only begin to imagine. People traded in odd relics of the past, but the price had always been too steep for her mother’s shallow pockets.

Noah Hampton was wealthy. He was strong and handsome enough, and he was new to town, which at least made him interesting. He knew when to talk and when to smile, and he’d made it clear from the moment he’d set foot across the threshold of Lottie’s saloon that he was more than willing to guide Hazel through her first mating cycle.

Unlike most of the local boys, who’d spent the last months trying to grab her ass or sneak a hand under her skirt as a prelude to seduction, Noah had been comfortingly blunt about the subject. He wanted to fuck her, to lock them both in a room and satisfy every dirty urge she had or would have over the several days it took for the mating fever to run its course, and when it was over they could decide what to do from there.

He was perfect. He was fucking perfect.

Except for the fact that she couldn’t summon the slightest interest in touching him. Damn you, Oliver Russell.

“If you stare at it long enough, will it spontaneously combust?” Lottie’s polite, cultured voice sounded particularly jovial, and she swept around the end of the bar in a billow of skirts and pale blonde hair. “It’s a very nice book, and it would be a shame.”

Hazel didn’t look up. “Is he still staring at me?”

“He is.” Lottie cleared her throat. “I can tell him to go, or coax him upstairs for a visit with one of the ladies.”

“No.” She brushed her fingers along the smooth cover and sighed. “Because the only person he needs to be fucking is me, and I’d rather not do it here.” The minute the words were out she regretted them. For the madam of the town’s most profitable whorehouse, Lottie had some fairly strict ideas about appropriate language.

“Hazel Young.” One eyebrow arched delicately as Lottie fixed her with a patient look. “There’s no need to be crude about it. Your situation is entirely normal and natural.”

“Is it?” If her situation were normal, she wouldn’t have ended up with so many people meddling in her life. Everyone else spoke of their first mating as if it had been a casual thing. Unimportant, unremarkable. No one had mentioned craving one man so desperately even her wolf would have nothing to do with anyone else.

“Mmm.” Lottie leaned over the bar, and her drawl became more noticeable as she spoke. “A word of warning, though. Any man that smooth?” She nodded toward Noah. “Is rarely a good idea.”

Which was the entire point. “At least a man that smooth might know what he’s doing. Unlike the boys you keep throwing at me.”

“‘Nice’ doesn’t always equal ‘inexperienced’.” Lottie’s gaze skipped past Hazel to the door, and she swore under her breath and straightened.

Hazel didn’t need Lottie’s sudden descent into foul language to know who had stepped into the saloon. It should have been impossible to pick out one scent amidst the jumble of smells that always permeated the saloon, but it wasn’t just any scent. Her skin tingled and arousal crept through her, persistent and demanding as she gave in and lifted her gaze to the door.

Oliver Russell stopped just inside the room, his hat cradled in his hands. Hazel let her gaze linger for a moment on the strong line of his jaw and his rugged features, on his powerful shoulders and hard chest and the large hands that she could almost feel on her skin…

His gaze swept the room and landed on her, hesitating for just a moment. Then he walked to the bar and nodded his head. “Miss Lottie. Miss Hazel.”

“Good afternoon, Oliver. What can I do for you?”

Again, that slight hesitation which might have been Hazel’s imagination, only this time it was coupled with something that looked like dismay. “Whiskey, please.”

Hazel was breathing too fast, and the men in the saloon were starting to take notice. She clamped down on the rising heat inside her until it almost hurt, then turned to find the whiskey. Even with her back to Oliver, she could feel his presence, and her hands trembled as she poured a shot and tried not to listen to his voice as Lottie talked to him.

When she turned around with his glass, Lottie took it from her. “Why don’t you go take a break, sweetie?”

Hazel glanced at Oliver, who looked nervous and self-conscious, and the truth of his visit came to her in a rush. The tiny, feeble hope that maybe -- maybe -- he’d come to see her faded.

Oliver was here for the reason he was always here -- to visit the saloon’s only human girl, a sweet woman who accommodated Oliver’s sexual needs. Maybe it would have been easier if Hazel had been able to hate Melinda, but she was kind and thoughtful, and even her wolf saw the human woman as no competition.

Pain gave her sexual arousal a vicious edge, and she met Oliver’s gaze without flinching. “Should I go fetch Melinda for you? I’m sure she’s available.”

He returned her stare evenly. “I’d appreciate it if you could tell her I’m here, and that I’ll be up in a bit, if that suits her.”

So casual. So cold. She’d demanded his blunt acknowledgement and he’d given it to her. Tears stung her eyes as she shoved past Lottie, but she didn’t go to the curving staircase leading to the second floor and the well-appointed rooms where the ladies of the bar entertained.

Instead she went to the corner. To Noah.

He greeted her with a smile and a bow. “Miss Hazel. Can you join me for a drink?”

Everyone was watching. Hazel pushed him back into the chair and followed him. She settled on his lap and curled an arm around his neck before leaning close to his ear. “I don’t think I can wait any longer, Noah. I’m choosing you.”

His smile turned into a cocky, self-assured grin. “And you won’t regret a minute of it, Hazel,” he whispered and bit her earlobe. “Not a single minute.”

It wasn’t what the wolf wanted, but the wolf had made her life miserable for the past three months. She’d deal with Oliver Russell later, when the mating instinct was gone and she could think clearly. Because that’s all it is. The mating instinct.

As lies went, it was an impressive one, but she chose to believe it. She had to.

* * *

Oliver picked up his third whiskey and stared at it. He hadn’t meant to put that crushed look in Hazel’s eyes, but she’d left him no choice. He couldn’t give her what she wanted of him, but she’d left him no room, either. No way to go about his own business without hurting her.

Now, a simpler woman waited for him upstairs. Melinda, who was sweet and undemanding. Melinda, who he rarely thought about until his libido grew tired of his own hand and demanded the satisfaction of sinking into something warmer. More comforting.

“People around here are doing an awful lot of angry glaring today.” Lottie leaned her elbows on the bar and smiled gently. “Melinda’s waiting.”

He lowered the glass, untouched. “Not sure I’m in the mood today, after all.”

“Mmm, I’ll bet.”

Irritation gripped him. “Spit it out.”

She smiled. “Something’s been riding you hard these last couple weeks, Oliver. When you figure out what it is, you won’t need my pithy wisdom.”

Her quiet amusement set his teeth on edge, and he tossed a bill on the counter. “Be seeing you, Lottie.”

He couldn’t be sure, but he thought he heard her laugh as he stomped out. His horse shied away from him, and he had to spend several minutes soothing the gelding before he could ride.

Oliver carefully blanked out his mind, focusing instead on the rolling land surrounding him as he headed for home. At length, he spotted a lone horse in the distance and no sign of a rider. A stray, he reasoned, unwilling to let his mind wander to grimmer conclusions.

But those conclusions were unavoidable when he drew closer and saw that the brown Morgan wore full tack, including an exquisitely worked saddle he recognized as the one Lottie had commissioned for Hazel’s eighteenth birthday.

It had been at least an hour since she’d left the bar with Noah Hampton, and the sun had begun to dip toward the horizon. Oliver’s heart seized. She could have been thrown, or --

Or worse.

He didn’t waste time. He clucked to his horse and rode toward Hampton’s place, his throat dry and blood pounding in his ears.

He made it within a mile of Hampton’s before he came across Hazel, barefoot and disheveled with her dress hanging off one shoulder. His horse shied again as he drew up next to her, dancing nervously away from the anger that rolled off Hazel in waves.

He jumped down and snatched his rifle from his pack. “Where the hell is he, and what the fuck did he do?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Hazel wouldn’t meet his eyes, but her voice sounded more frustrated than upset. “Unless you’re going to shoot my horse for throwing me, put that damn thing away.”

“A bad fall’s dangerous, even for werewolves.” His hands shook, but he stowed the rifle. “But if that’s all that happened, where are your shoes?”

Anger returned, but more dangerous was the growing warmth around her, power rising in her tiny body and drawing an answering surge from him. She trembled on the edge of the mating fever, so close it should have taken her by now.

And yet she fought it. Even as she glared up at him, she fought it so hard it had to be hurting her. “Everything went wrong.” Her voice was clipped, edged with that same tense heat. “But it wasn’t him. It’s me. And you.”

Oliver couldn’t deny the role he’d played in her frustration, even if it wasn’t his fault. “You’re going to hurt yourself,” he told her gruffly. “The fever’s nothing to play around with.”

“Play?” Her voice rose. “You think I’m playing? I went there to fuck him and I wanted to. But I can’t give in to the mating without giving in to the wolf, and she almost ripped him apart for touching me.”

“Calm down.” The hair on the back of his neck rose, along with the animal inside him. The wolf stirred, awakened as much by the power rolling off her in waves as by the Siren call of her lust. He needed to get her to safety before the fever took her, but he couldn’t touch her. He knew what would happen the moment he did. “We need to get you somewhere. To Jack’s place.”

“No!” Hazel snatched up her mud-stained skirts and circled around him, her entire body rigid. “I’m not getting near Jack, and I’m not going anywhere with you.”

He followed her. “Like it or not, I’m what you’ve got right now. So you can act like a child, or you can let me get you someplace safe.”

Hazel wheeled so quickly he almost ran into her. “If you think I’m going to let you hand me over to the alpha so he can do his duty by me and break my best friend’s heart, you’re a bigger fool than I thought.”

“That isn’t what I meant,” he protested. “He and Ginny can find a way to help you. He doesn’t have to -- it’s not --” He bit off his words with a growl. His hands were starting to itch. “Damnation, if you hadn’t waited so long…”

“Yes, I’m a fool. I’m a stupid, romantic fool.” She turned again, but her body had begun to tremble. “Go away, Oliver. I’m fighting her as hard as I can right now, but it hurts. And it won’t stop until you’re gone.”

“It won’t stop at all now. That’s what I’m trying to tell you.” He had no choice, so he reached out and grasped her arm. “Hazel, stop.”

Her skin felt hot under his hand. A noise tore free of her, desperate yearning and need, and her arousal filled his senses. She took a gasping breath as her entire body went tense. “Oliver --” Her voice sounded tiny and maybe even afraid. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Shh.” He didn’t have a clue himself, aside from the obvious, but he drew her back against his chest and tried to soothe her. “Try to relax. You’ve got to -- We have to get you somewhere.” There was a fishing cabin on the Lonely River, close to Ginny’s ranch. If he could get Hazel there, maybe he could help her until the fever passed. If not, Ginny and Jack wouldn’t be far away. “Just relax.”

She shivered under his hands even as she rubbed back against him in a way that was anything but innocent. “You don’t have to love me, Oliver, but please… please make it stop hurting.”

His carefully suppressed desire flared, and his cock sprang to life. He gritted his teeth against the urge to slide his hand under her skirt. “Can you ride for a little while?” he whispered. “I’ll do it, Hazel, but we’ve got to get someplace first.”

“Okay.” She turned and reached up, curling her hands over his shoulders. “I trust you.”

He pulled her head back and bit her neck to ease the wolf, and she melted against him with a soft moan of satisfaction. Then he helped her up on his horse and climbed up behind her. His arm stayed tight around her waist as he turned his mount and set him off at a fast trot toward the cabin.

Chapter Two

The world was too warm, but Hazel didn’t mind anymore. The pain and misery of the past months had been swept away with the stinging bite of Oliver’s teeth, his claim that quieted the wolf and her angry need.

She didn’t even mind that her heart would probably be broken by this time next week. The need to mate had washed away petty concerns like love or relationships, replacing them with the carnal need to fuck. Hard, fast, over and over again…

She whimpered and fought the urge to squirm in the strong circle of Oliver’s arm. Soon. Soon…

He whispered to her, words she couldn’t quite focus on but found soothing anyway. She whimpered another protest when they stopped and he moved away, but he only climbed off the horse and gathered her in his arms. The contact calmed her, and she opened her eyes.

She recognized the tiny cabin as one on the river near Ginny’s place. Near Oliver’s place, too. He caught her eye and the corner of his mouth kicked up. “I don’t think there’s time to get you anywhere else.”

Before I take you. He didn’t speak the words, but the implication made her dizzy. “I need you.”

“I know.” He left the horse unfettered and kicked open the cabin door. Inside was dark and dusty, and Oliver set her on her feet near the door. “I’ll be right back. Just wait for me here.”

The minute he disappeared again her nervous tension returned. The scratch of fabric on her skin was unbearable, but the neat buttons on the back of her dress were hard to reach and too delicate to manage in her current state. Four of them popped free of the dress before she managed to drag it over her head, and she left it in a heap on the floor with her undergarments as Oliver returned with his saddlebags.

He stared at her for a few tense seconds, his eyes taking in the thin silk slip she wore. Then he dropped the bags on a chair by the bed and pulled out a thin blanket. “Do you want a light?” he asked as he spread the blanket over the ancient, bare mattress.

Warm pleasure arched through her and she realized she was touching herself, stroking her fingers absently over her tight nipple. Her gaze caressed his strong shoulders and she tried to envision what lay under his shirt…

He asked you a question. “Uhm, lights. I don’t care.”

“I should build a fire or -- or something.” He watched her hands, and his own clenched into shaking fists. “You’ll get sick --” He turned away abruptly and knelt by the hearth to stack the old, dry logs beside it on the grate. “Lie down, Hazel.”

It was a command, strong and confident, and the strength in it sent a rush of heat through her, followed by the instinctive desire to obey. She slid onto the bed and curled on her side, inching the slip up her leg. “Hurry.”

It took a few minutes, but Oliver managed to get the fire going. He rose up in its light and drew his shirt over his head. The flickering fire cast shadows over the hard length of his torso, and he turned and kicked off his boots.

She forgot how to breathe. Nights spent dreaming hadn’t come close to the reality of watching the firelight dance over his skin as he walked toward the bed.

Her fingers fisted in her slip and she whimpered. “Too slow.”

“Shh.” He didn’t bother to remove his pants before climbing on the bed behind her, his chest warm against her back. He scraped his teeth over her bare shoulder and laid his hand on her leg. “It’ll be all right. You’ll see.”

She moaned when she felt the hard ridge of his cock against her ass. “Take your pants off. I want to feel you.”

“In a bit.” He thrust against her as his hand edged under her slip and up to the top of her thigh. “What makes you feel good?”

“I don’t know… the usual things?” She reached back and tried to find his belt with her fingers. “Everyone keeps telling me human men don’t count, so maybe I don’t know anything at all.”

Oliver caught her hand and drew it up over her head. He did the same with her other arm and pinned her wrists to the bed. “No such thing as ‘the usual,’ darling. Tell me how you want me to touch you before I fuck you.”

She couldn’t deny him, not when his voice took on the gruff tone of an order. A slight shift of her body put her on her back with her wrists still pinned above her head, but at least now she could see Oliver’s face.

He looked tense, uneasy. Hazel closed her eyes and moved her legs apart. “I -- touch me. With -- with your fingers.”

He moved slowly, taking what felt like forever to stroke his fingertips into the wet cleft between her thighs. “Like this?” He barely brushed her clit.

She whimpered and rocked her hips up into his touch. “More. God, what do you want? What do I need to do so you’ll fuck me?”

His hand stilled, and he made another soothing noise. “Stop being scared that I’ll stop. Trust me.”

It wasn’t until he spoke the words that she realized she was scared. The need that consumed her was unforgiving. If he turned away from her the lust would drive her mad.

She was at his mercy.

Hazel forced her eyes open and sought his gaze. “I’ve never had sex with another werewolf before.” Instinct prompted the confession, the instinct to remind him that she was unclaimed, and he rewarded her with a low growl as something intense and barely restrained burned in his eyes.

He thrust against her, the hard length of his cock nudging her thigh, and groaned. Before she could take another breath, his mouth landed on hers, rough and needy, and there was nothing to do but part her lips and give in to the erotic power of his kiss.

Oliver let go of her wrists and wove his hand into her hair. The touches that had been so easy and careful before returned and, this time, he pressed his thumb firmly against her clit for several heartbeats. Pleasure radiated out from the touch, driving her breath from her in a helpless cry.

Then he groaned again and thrust one finger inside her, and the world disappeared in a rush of heat. It was hardly the first time a man had touched her so intimately, but they had been men. Human men, trying so hard to get her off in hopes that she’d fuck them. And none had dragged her this close to oblivion with so little effort.

His mouth trailed down to her ear, and he drew the sensitive lobe between his teeth. “You’ll have to trust me, Hazel. Can you do that?”

She was so drunk on pleasure and anticipation that the truth slipped out before she could stop it. “I always have.”

He leaned up and tugged the strap of her slip off her shoulder, baring her breast. She held her breath as he bent his head and touched her nipple with his tongue. At the same time, he eased a second finger into her pussy.

The coiled heat inside her released so fast she couldn’t even scream. Her back bowed and her toes curled as climax crashed into her. She’d never come so fast before, never come so hard she couldn’t draw breath. Everything felt hot and tingly and she finally got enough air to whimper as her body shook with the force of her orgasm.

Oliver didn’t stop, just kept working his fingers in and out of her, the serrated edge of his teeth biting gently into her breast as his tongue flicked over her.

The first climax hadn’t faded when the second took her, and this time she did scream. She fisted one hand in his hair as the other clutched at the blanket above her head and tried to hang on through the waves of pleasure that wracked her body.

It was good. It was fucking fantastic. But the large fingers thrusting so skillfully into her were nothing more than temporary relief. Every time her pussy clenched around them it accentuated a deeper ache, one that no amount of pleasure could fool.

“Dammit.” He lifted his head, revealing eyes that had shifted from blue to gold. “Is it helping at all?”

She was past the point of lying, or even trying to be delicate. “Fuck me. Please fuck me. Not with your fingers -- with your cock.”

Oliver pulled away slowly, one hand already working at his belt. “You’re small,” he rasped. “Stop me if I hurt you.”

Their respective sizes had never seemed that important before, but the difference struck her as she rose to her knees and reached to help him with his belt. He had to be a foot taller than her, and her hands looked tiny next to his.

The thought of being surrounded by all that strength, of having his large body curled around hers, stirred instincts darker than mere lust. Her breathing hitched and she raised her gaze to his. “You won’t hurt me.”

It took him only seconds to shed his pants and push her back onto the bed. His cock matched the rest of him, big and solid, and Hazel ached as she waited for him to come to her. When he did, climbing over her and between her parted legs, the electric touch of his naked skin on hers made her tremble.

He braced himself on his outstretched arms and hesitated with the head of his cock prodding her pussy. “I mean it, Hazel. Tell me --”

She inched her hands under his, driven by that dangerous instinct to give up control to him, to trust him with the raging need inside her. “I’m so ready for you. I’m wet and aching and I need.”

He gripped her wrists with a groan. “This is --” The rest of his words were swallowed in a growl as he surged forward and drove into her. And if she had been a little less desperate, a little less consumed in the grip of the mating heat, it might have hurt.

Instead it was perfect, riding the edge of discomfort but staying just on the side of pleasure. She moaned and forced her eyes open again, staring up into eyes that still looked more wolf than human. “Do I feel good?”

“Good.” The word seemed torn from him. He drew back and thrust home again.

It was growing harder to concentrate on his words. She slid her legs higher up his sides and moaned deep in her throat when the movement eased him even deeper. Her eyes fluttered shut as she tried to draw breath.

Oliver licked her lips and chin. “I’ll make it worth the wait,” he promised in a low, hoarse whisper. “When I’m finished, you won’t be able to walk, but you’ll feel so damn good you won’t care.”

She could barely make sense of his words. She needed powerful thrusts that satisfied the wolf, that claimed and dominated. Maybe later she’d be grateful for the gentle consideration, but now she squirmed, trapped by the press of his hips and his grip on her wrists but desperate for more. “Harder. Take me harder.”

He drove into her again, obeying her pleading words with another harsh groan. “Hazel --”

“Yes!” She got her legs around his back and rocked up into the next perfect thrust, so deep and powerful it pushed her over the edge. Pleasure tore through her, driving her head back as she screamed and let go of everything she’d been holding inside.

It felt so good it almost hurt. The unbearable pressure that had built over months of self-denial exploded as her wolf embraced a mate. And not just any mate, but her mate, the one she’d chosen and stalked so patiently, the one who had belonged to her long before the human had realized how deep her feelings had grown.

With everything she’d ever wanted in her arms, Hazel gave in to bliss.

* * *

Oliver Russell was in hell.

He bit his lip hard enough to taste blood and rocked through another of Hazel’s orgasms, closing his fists around the blanket when her pussy gripped him in a hot, rippling caress. She went wild under him, and he cursed silently.

Don’t come. Just don’t fucking come. Hazel had been hurting, almost sick with fever, but the last thing either of them needed was for him to lose control and let the fever take him, too.

She panted his name as she came down, her voice hoarse from the screams she’d stopped trying to hold back. She was nearing the limits of her endurance, but he knew all too well that this was only the beginning. After a few hours of sleep and something to eat she’d be hot for him again, desperate for sex until she’d worn them both out.

“Shh.” He slowed and stopped, his cock still throbbing and hard. “You should rest for a while.”

Her dark eyes drifted open, filled with confusion and a hint of doubt. “What’s wrong?”

He brushed her hair off her forehead. “We can stop now. You’ll be okay if we do.”

“But you didn’t --” She swallowed, and she sounded self-conscious as hell. “Did I do something wrong? I-I told you, it’s only been humans…”

He still trembled with the effort it took not to keep pounding into her until his own release came, hot and blinding and perfect. “You didn’t do anything wrong. But we’re not -- I mean, this isn’t --”

“Good?” It sounded heartbroken. Hazel closed her eyes and lifted her hands to his shoulders. “Help me make it good for you.”

His heart twisted. “It’s good,” he rasped. “But you don’t want me, Hazel. Not like this.”

“I do.” She rocked up a little, a tentative gesture that tightened the muscles at the base of his spine and made his cock twitch. “I want this. I want you to feel like I do.”

Even that tiny movement undid him, and he bent his face to her neck as he began thrusting again, hard and fast. “Help me let go.” Make this be all right.

She shuddered beneath him and shifted one hand to curl in his hair as her body rose to meet his thrusts. “Will -- will it help if I come again? Because it won’t take much…”

He didn’t know what would help. His skin heated, and he felt his control slipping away again. He bit her with a growl and raised his head, knowing what she’d see in his eyes -- the wolf. The rutting animal. The beast even his own wife had always feared.

Her eyes had slipped from brown to amber. She growled and lifted her head just enough to bite his chin, turning what should have been a gesture of submission into a challenge. “That’s right,” she whispered, and her voice held a wild edge this time. “Fuck me.”

“I’ll fuck you.” The words sounded almost feral, even to his own ears. “Until you can’t take it anymore. Until you beg me to stop.”

Hazel dragged his mouth down to hers and bit his lower lip with a hoarse groan. She tightened around his cock as she ground up into his next thrust. “I’m going to come,” she whispered against his mouth. “So fucking hard, so fucking long.”

Oliver growled again and lifted one of her legs higher on his back. “Scream, Hazel. Tell me it’s good.”

“It’s perfect.” She bit his jaw, then his earlobe. “The only thing better would be me on my knees with you fucking me so deep I can’t remember anything but how your cock feels.”

The words, spoken with such enthusiasm, were the last thing he expected, and the final blow to his control. He threw back his head and managed one more thrust before the world went white and then dark, with quick, tight pulses of pleasure running down his spine. “Fuck, Hazel…” She just ground up into him one last time and came with a scream. Her pussy clenched around him and drew out his pleasure until they were both panting for breath.

He rolled as soon as he stilled, bringing her on top of him as he came to rest on his back. “Hazel.” It took him a moment to catch his breath. “Are you all right?”

She reached up with a shaking hand to push long strands of dark hair away from her face. “Yes.”

“Nothing hurts?” As soon as the words left him, he could have kicked himself.

Hazel just laughed, soft and languid, and kissed the center of his chest before turning to snuggle her cheek against it. “I’m not fragile, Oliver.”

He started to wrap his arms around her but let them fall back to the bed. “Now you really need to rest before we head out for my place.”

“Is that where we’re going?” Her voice sounded drowsy and unconcerned. Trusting. “I think I tore my dress even more taking it off. Can I wear the blanket?”

“We’ll wrap you up,” he assured her, finally sliding his hands across her back. “You’ll be warm. Safe.”

Her breathing had begun to even out. “I’m already safe,” she murmured. “With you.”

“Sleep, Hazel.” He needed to think, but he couldn’t, not with her naked body still pressed against him. “Sleep.”

Chapter Three

Hazel had been past Oliver’s house plenty of times, and had even been outside of it once or twice with Ginny. But in all of the time she’d longed for him, she’d never set so much as a toe inside.

It didn’t look like she expected. It looked like a place Oliver only stayed, not like where he lived. No knick knacks or mementos lined the shelves, and everything was spotlessly neat.

He ushered her inside and knelt by the hearth. “I’ll get a fire started, then I’ve got to check on my stock. Do you want to go back to sleep for a little while?”

She was more hungry than tired, and not just for food anymore. Which means if I want to stay sane long enough to eat, I need clothing. “Do you have something I can wear? Maybe just an old shirt or something?”

Instead of heading for the bedroom, he rose and stripped off his own shirt. “Here.”

Her gaze dropped to his chest. Warmth flooded her as she stared at his broad shoulders and the hard muscles of his arms that flexed as he held out the shirt. If she reached out she might touch him, and if she touched him she’d be begging him to fuck her before she could draw another breath.

Which was all rational and reasonable, and didn’t explain what made her release her hold on the blanket and let it slide to the floor at her feet. “Thank you.”

“On second thought…” His eyes darkened as he looked over at her. “If you can start the fire, I’ll head out to the barn.”

The fact that he wasn’t physically running didn’t help the urge to chase him. Hazel drew on the stubborn strength that had gotten her through the last few uncomfortable months and managed a short nod. “I can light the fire.”

“Good.” He turned and walked out the front door again, still bared to the waist.

When he was gone she let out the breath she’d been holding and picked up his discarded shirt. It smelled of him, which soothed the wolf as she pulled it over her head. The hem hung past her knees and the shoulders were impossibly wide, but at least she wasn’t naked anymore.

Of course, she wasn’t exactly in the mood to be playing with the fire, either. She built up her own fire every night during the winter, but it took four tries just to get a simple feeble flame to stay lit. Her mind kept skittering away from mundane details to linger on the curve of Oliver’s shoulder or his lean waist or the impressive girth of his cock, which had felt so damn good…

The piece of wood she’d been clutching slipped from her suddenly limp fingers and landed directly on top of her tiny fire, which promptly went out. Hazel swore and started over, struggling this time to fight the images that taunted her as the urge to mate grew inside her. You held out for months, she told herself sternly as she coaxed the fire back to life. Ten minutes won’t kill you.

But when he came back less than ten minutes later, the waiting had become almost unbearable. He took one look at her and cursed. “Is it rising again? The fever?”

Hazel closed her eyes and pressed her face against the side of the worn down couch she’d curled up against. “I tried to stop it.”

“You need to eat something.” Even as he spoke, he moved to the couch and knelt beside her. “Look at me, Hazel.”

His voice sent heat dancing up her spine, and she shivered as she turned to meet his gaze. “I tried.”

“Come on.” He gathered her into his arms, gentle and strong. “We can go to the bedroom, and eat later.”

“I’m sorry.” Even as she said the words she couldn’t keep herself from pressing her lips to his bare shoulder.

He shivered under her lips, and his hand stroked over her hair. “For what?”

“For not being able to control it like I should.”

“And who said you should be able to control it?”

It had never occurred to her that she shouldn’t be able to. “I’m supposed to be strong.”

His voice dropped to a husky whisper. “Sometimes, that makes it worse. The need.”

She couldn’t help herself. She bit his shoulder and groaned as that very need became too much to contain. The wolf wasn’t interested in control, unless it was a prelude to losing it. Oliver had a power and strength in him that matched her own, and that was all that mattered now.

He nudged open a door to reveal a sparely furnished bedroom dominated by a large bed covered with a dark quilt. “We might be here a while, Hazel.”

She barely heard him. She wanted to be on that bed, naked. She wanted him behind her or above her, whichever way would get him in her. Her breathing was too fast as she forced herself to look up at Oliver’s face. “I need you.”

There was something gentle in his eyes as he laid her down and started undressing. “I know. You will for a while. Then you’ll feel better.”

Then I’ll feel worse. But she didn’t say it out loud. Admitting the truth now might make him stop, and her body felt too warm and too needy for that. She rose to her knees and tugged at his shirt. “Just tell me you want me for now.”

He moved her hands and freed the buttons. “I want you.” He kept his eyes lowered, almost as if ashamed of the words. “I want everything from you, and there’s not a damn bit of it I should be thinking about taking.”

Her heart pounded. The shirt fell open and she caught his hands. “Tell me what you want, then. And you won’t have to take it. I’ll give it to you.”

* * *

He told himself not to do it, not to tell her a goddamned thing, because it wasn’t right. It wasn’t right to ask her to be a mate to him, not when he was only serving as temporary relief. But she held his hands close to her naked skin, and his resolve faded into nothingness. “Let me have you.”

She just smiled and tugged until his fingers came to rest against her ribcage, just under her breasts. “You already have me. All you have to do is claim me.”

Oliver reached up, just until his thumbs skimmed the bottom curves of her breasts. “It wouldn’t be like before, Hazel. You sure?”

“I don’t know what it will be,” she whispered, but her voice held such yearning. “But I think it’s what I need.”

He spun her around and bent her low over the bed. “Probably.” His hand trembled as he smoothed it over the swell of her ass and down to grip her thigh. “It’ll be rough, honey. Wild.”

Her whimper sounded like pure desire. “I’m strong,” she whispered, and he knew she wasn’t talking about physical strength anymore. “Noah wasn’t. Most of the men in town aren’t. They’re weak. I hate weak.”

“I’m not weak.” But it was a lie. He was weak enough to lift the tail of the shirt she wore as he unzipped his pants. She arched a little, through desire or instinct, and he slid his cock into the heat of her pussy.

Hazel panted and curled her fingers around the quilt. “You don’t have to be so gentle.”

“I’m not,” he promised. “I haven’t even started yet, that’s all.”

She snarled. “So start.”

“No.” Oliver moved his hand slowly up her back and caught her hair in his hand. “Don’t be impatient.”

Her back arched more sharply as she tried to rock, to move their bodies together. He curled several shining locks of her hair around his fingers and tugged lightly. “Be still.”

Power rose between them, and the scent of her arousal with it. “Why is this so fucking hot?”

“That strength you were talking about.” He rocked into her. “Dominance.”

She trembled beneath his hands. “You’re strong?”

Oliver leaned over and spoke low in her ear. “Are you asking me?”

“I don’t know…” She twisted her head and bit the line of his jaw with a soft growl. “Maybe.”

He bit her back. “If you didn’t already know, one little round of careful fucking wouldn’t have satisfied you. Not even for an hour.”

Her head tilted to the side in blatant invitation to leave a mark even as she challenged him with her words. “Well, if you don’t get around to fucking me soon, I’m going to fuck you.”

“You could try.” Her words urged him to move, to drive his cock deep inside her pussy. But his next thrusts were easy. Languid. And quite obviously driving her crazy.

She snarled and broke free of his grip with his next thrust, driving her body back to meet his, hard. His cock ended up buried in her pussy as she ground back against him with a triumphant noise.

The sensation -- the satisfaction -- almost cost him his control. “You learning to take what you want instead of always waiting?” he rasped.

“Yes.” She did it again, driving his cock as deep as she could with a desperate sounding moan. “You should be worried.”

Oliver tightened his hands on her hips and held her still. “Worried about what?”

“About me.” She looked back at him, and her golden eyes held nothing but hot, possessive need. “Do you really want me to take what I want?”

“You have to test yourself.” He pushed the loosened shirt up and leaned forward to lick the spot between her shoulder blades. “You have to test me. That’s what this is all about.”

She looked away, and her hair spilled forward to hide her expression. Her panting breaths filled the room as she squirmed in his grasp. “If you don’t start moving again I’m going to kill you.”

He urged the shirt over her head and down her arms. Then he brushed her hair back, guiding it over one shoulder as he trailed his tongue over the bare expanse of the other. “Don’t talk, Hazel. Act.”

A moment later she did, wiggling free of his body. She moved fast, with a hoarse growl working its way free as she twisted on the bed and rose to her knees. Then she pounced.

Her body collided with his and he barely had time to grasp her hips again before they hit the floor. He held her above him and grinned, pleased by her show of strength and aggression. Maybe she needed more than the sex, the mating. Maybe she needed him. “Feel better?”

“No.” Her fingernails dug against his chest and she rubbed against his cock, her movements inexperienced but determined as she tried to find the right angle. “Not until you’re inside me again. Not until you’re fucking me. Until we’re fucking each other.”

Her words fanned the flames inside him even more than her impatient squirming. He helped her move and groaned when she started to slide down around him. “Jesus.”

She was panting before she’d taken more than half of him, her mouth open and her face slack with pleasure. Her body trembled and she stopped for several seconds before lifting and rocking down again, working his cock into her with tiny, choked sounds of need.

The floor was cold under his back, and the rough wood scraped his skin as he arched up, thrusting into her. “You want slow?”

A shudder wracked her, and the clenching heat of her body tightened impossibly around him. “No. I don’t know.” She leaned forward, and her hair tumbled over her shoulders to tickle at his chest as she dragged her tongue across his nipple. “I just want you.”

Oliver shifted her a little, just enough for every rocking motion to rub her clit along his shaft. “You want slow,” he repeated, the words a declaration this time instead of a question.

Her teeth closed on his chest. She whimpered and lifted her head again. “I thought mating was all fast and hard and crazy.”

“Not once you take the edge off.” She stared at him with eyes the deep, rich color of well-oiled leather. Those eyes were too big and round, too filled with a soft fascination he barely recognized… or remembered. “It can be easy. Good.”

“Is the edge off?” Her mouth dropped to his neck this time, and he held her there as she licked over his pulse. “Part of me wants to do this forever, but the rest of me…”

Oliver sat up with a smooth, controlled movement, his other hand keeping her hips tight with his. “Fast and hard and crazy?”

She bit him without warning, marking his neck with a possessive noise. “I want you to do things to me that I don’t even have words for. It’s a little terrifying.”

The quick little bite sent a shiver of pleasure rushing up his spine, and Oliver turned his face to hers with a low moan. “I can teach you the words,” he murmured hoarsely, “or you can just show me. I’ll do them, Hazel. I’ll make you scream.”

Her hips moved, and she was rocking against him again, faster this time. Needy. She spoke between rough pants with her eyes fixed on his. “What about you? You said… said you wanted things. From me.”

“Yes.” The word came out as more of a growl, and she tightened around him. “After you come again, I’ll show you. So many things I want to do.” He coaxed her into a faster pace, watching her face as she moved over him. “I want to lay you on the bed and put your legs over my shoulders. I could fuck you so deep that way.”

She moaned and dropped her head back, revealing the smooth, graceful arch of her throat and the pale skin that already bore the rising mark of his teeth. “How else? How else do you want me?”

He licked the faint bruise and hissed against her skin when she ground against him. “I like having you in my lap like this, and I liked bending you over the bed. Any way I can look at you, feel you.”

She caught his gaze with her own. She scratched her nails against his chest with a smile. “What if your cock was in my mouth? Would you like that?”

Oliver growled and bit her again, his teeth sinking into the unmarked side of her neck. “Can’t deny you that when I fully intend to put my tongue inside you before I let you out of this house.”

She cried out, going tense in his arms. The tiny little rocking movements of her hips turned hard and unsteady as she rode him in earnest, chasing the orgasm he could already feel tightening her body around him.

And then she came. Her mouth dropped open and she choked on his name as she came apart for him, gorgeous and wild and so damn hot around his cock that he gritted his teeth against the urge to follow.

It didn’t matter. The wet, pulsing heat of her body pulled him after her, and his forehead dropped to her shoulder as release took him. He wrapped his arms around her and rocked up until the last waves faded, leaving him trembling and exhausted. “Are you all right?”

“Mmm.” Her head tipped forward until her face nuzzled the side of his neck. “Do you have food in the kitchen? I could make us something to eat. You must be almost as hungry as I am.”

Almost on cue, his stomach rumbled insistently. “Maybe hungrier,” he admitted. Still, he didn’t want to move, to lose the intimacy of her skin against his. “In a minute.”

She giggled, a soft sound with a wicked edge. “Oliver? If we stay like this I’m going to lose my self-control and start wiggling, because I’m pretty sure I’d just have to look at you and I’d come again. I’m that riled up.”

He laughed. “Your horny ass is going to kill me, woman.”

Hazel curled her fingers around the back of his head and inched back until she was straddling his thighs. Her other hand slid down the front of her body as she looked up at him. “Watch,” she whispered, and the teasing glint was gone from her gaze, replaced with something hot and intense.

Then her eyes drifted shut, leaving him to watch her face as she slipped her fingers between her legs and rubbed them over her clit. “This is what happens when I think about you.”

Incredibly, lust heated his blood again. He slid his hand over hers and nipped at her chin. “You start fingering yourself?”

She nudged his fingers lower until they brushed at her entrance. “I didn’t think you’d ever touch me, so I had to do it myself.”

Oliver teased her with two fingers before pushing them into her. “It’s hard to do this right without a good angle,” he observed. “Like… this.” He curled his fingers inside her.

“Oh --” Her eyes popped open and she panted as she ground down against his hand. “Oh, God. God, touching myself is never this good.”

“It never is, honey,” he whispered. “Come again. I want to feel it.”

She leaned forward and caught his mouth in a desperate, tongue tangling kiss, clumsy with need but perfect all the same. Tiny noises escaped her, choked and desperate and lost in the depths of his mouth as she kissed him.

His cock stirred between them, and he bit her lower lip. “Let it go, Hazel. Come on.” He moved his fingers faster and hummed against her skin.

A keening moan escaped her lips as she came. It was soft and quiet, just her open mouth pressed against his cheek as she panted and rocked with him. He caught her mouth, entranced by the pleasure he’d coaxed from her.

Entranced by her.

He swept his hands slowly over her back. “Food, or we’re both destined for the grave.”

“I can cook.” The words whispered against his cheek as she nuzzled her way toward his ear. “I’m actually good at it. Haven’t got the patience for baking, but I like to cook.”

“We’ll see what we can come up with.” Oliver pulled her tighter to his chest and stood. “I’m going to go check on the stock again, make sure they’re set ’til morning. I’ll come help you in the kitchen when I’m done.”

She laughed and nipped at his ear. “Bad idea. You’ll be fucking me on the table while the food burns.”

“Nope. I may not have shown it so far, but I have a little self-control.” He set her down by the bed, kissed her cheek and pulled up his pants. “See you in a minute.”

He made it out of the bedroom before his hands started shaking, and Oliver sucked in a deep breath outside. For a moment, he’d forgotten Hazel didn’t belong in his house. Didn’t belong to him. Her presence there had been as natural as his heart beating, and it had been a long time since he’d felt that.

Not since Marissa, a little voice whispered, and his hands shook even more. Hazel didn’t remind him of his wife, not really. Marissa had been quiet, reserved. A little more like him. But they both carried the same air of innocence, though he had no idea how Hazel had maintained hers for so long.

He cursed and strode toward the barn. That innocence called to him even as it held him at bay, afraid of the risk involved with the responsibility of taking it. But he had, and now he had to figure out how to do right by her. Jack had told him Hazel was infatuated with him, and taking her to his bed was the last thing to help her get over that.

But I had no choice. The truth of the words didn’t make him feel any better. Even now, she was probably in his kitchen, planning their future together.

Would that be so bad? The thought stopped him cold even as he reached for an empty feedbag. Would it? It was a simple, logical question. There were worse things than having someone to talk to or sit with, someone to warm your bed. Needing companionship wasn’t a crime. Hell, in ranch life it was more of a necessity than anything else.

He filled the bag with oats and reached for the next, his mind whirling with the possibilities. Hazel was pleasant and interesting. He liked her. No reason not to ask, see if she’d consider it.

No reason at all.

* * *

Hazel attacked the potato in front of her with a vicious determination, chopping it into haphazard pieces as she muttered angrily under her breath. Oliver’s big, manly hands and low voice and the way he felt inside her were a combination that made it all too easy to forget why she was here.

Because he didn’t want you to die. Letting herself get swept away in the moment was dangerous in so many ways. She was already starting to forget -- the scene in the bedroom made her cheeks burn. To tell him about her fantasies, to tell him that he was her only fantasy… No wonder he ran.

And then she’d offered to play house with him. The stupidity of that had settled in on her after he went outside. She should be building up the walls around her heart, not puttering around in his kitchen in his shirt, cooking for him as if she belonged here. If there was one thing Oliver had made clear over the past few weeks, it was that she most certainly did not belong here.

She slammed the knife down through another potato and yelped when the sharp tip of it caught her finger. She jerked her hand away before she could bleed on the food she’d chopped up. “Damn it!” The dishtowel next to her wasn’t exactly clean, but she pressed it to her finger anyway and swore again as her injured finger ached in protest at the rough treatment. Tears of frustration filled her eyes, and she shoved the chair back from the table to rise unsteadily to her feet.

And, of course, that was when Oliver chose to enter the kitchen. His nostrils flared, and his brow furrowed. “Are you bleeding?”

“I cut myself.” She clutched her hand and the dishcloth against her chest and took a step back. “Where’s the bathroom? I can go clean up if you finish cooking.”

“Let me see.” He pulled the towel away from her hand and grimaced. “That’s not so bad. Here, hold it like this. It’ll heal faster.” He wrapped the dishtowel around her finger and caught her gaze. “Are you all right?”

He was staring at her like he cared, like he was worried. Her chest felt tight and it took every scrap of self-control not to melt into his arms. “I’m fine. I was going to stew some potatoes.”

He brushed a stray lock of hair from her forehead. “Knife slipped?”

“Yes.” She hated how breathless she sounded. “I didn’t get much else started. I wasn’t sure what you wanted to eat.”

“I’ll put the potatoes on, and we can have sandwiches. I’ve got some roast beef I need to slice up.”

She swallowed and took another tiny step back. “Do you mind if I clean up anyway? I-I don’t know where the bathroom is --” But she had to get away from him and give herself time to steel her resolve.

He dropped his hand. “End of the hall. Take your time.”

Hazel fled.

The bathroom was simple and neat. A huge copper bathtub dominated one side, and she ran her fingers along the edge and wished the miracle of instant hot water existed out here. The thought of sinking up to her neck in a hot bath was so heavenly she sighed in longing.

But there wasn’t time for a bath, and even the thought of it conjured different images, images of sliding into that tub with Oliver, of wet, naked skin and his hands on her body. Of the sound of his voice, whispering to her as he made love to her --

“Fuck.” Squeezing her eyes shut, she banished the images. No lovemaking. No tender sex staring at his face. If lust rose in her body again she’d fuck him. And when it stopped…

A small, chipped mirror sat over the sink. She stared at her reflection for a few moments, her heart beating too fast. When the fever faded she’d go back to her life. She’d wait until the dreams of spending the rest of her life in his arms faded. And she’d move on.

She pretended it was the stinging pain from her finger that brought tears to her eyes as she sought out a towel and began to wash.

Chapter Four

By the time she returned to the kitchen Oliver had set out a platter of roast beef slices along with lettuce leaves and tomatoes. He stood by the table, slicing some bread. “I can’t bake, either, but the preacher’s wife makes a good rye loaf.”

“It looks delicious.” She settled into the chair, wishing she’d found something more substantial to wear than his discarded shirt. There was no way to keep the proper distance like this. No way to convince herself that she didn’t belong at his table, in his kitchen… in his life.

“Do you think we should get married?”

The words were so unexpected -- so unbelievable -- that she gaped at him for a moment, sure she must have misunderstood. “Should -- what?”

“Get married,” he repeated as he stacked the bread slices on plates. “I think it could work.”

For one second she allowed herself to believe that Oliver Russell had fallen magically in love with her. Or, even better, had always been in love with her.

She’d always had an overabundance of romantic fancy, but no one had ever accused Hazel Young of being naive. She curled her hands around the table and forced herself to meet Oliver’s eyes. “Do you want to marry me? Or do you just think maybe you should?”

He hesitated. “That might be part of it. But I like you, Hazel. We get on well, and I don’t really see any reason why we couldn’t make a go of it.”

“Oh.” She snatched up two pieces of bread and slapped them on the plate as she tried to rein in her temper. “So. You like me well enough to think we could maybe be happy if you married me out of… what? Guilt and obligation?”

So much for her temper.

Oliver stared at her. “I wouldn’t make both of us miserable out of guilt. I meant what I said. I like you, and I think it could work.”

He liked her. She added beef and tomatoes to her sandwich.

He liked her.

Hazel hated herself for wondering, even for a second, if she could settle for just being liked if the man doing the liking was Oliver.

The plate clattered against the table and she jerked her gaze up again. “You might find this young and stupid, but I don’t really want to marry someone who likes me unless he loves me, too.”

His jaw tightened, but he nodded slowly. “All right. I understand that.” The words were clear, but his eyes were dark, clouded. “Worth a shot, anyway.”

She didn’t realize that she’d been holding out hope until he crushed it. Her chair toppled back with a crash as she shoved herself to her feet. Tears stung her eyes and she spun, the only goal to get away before she actually cried.

But she heard the heavy stomp of boots behind her, and Oliver caught her arm. “What is it, Hazel?” he whispered. “I tried, but you -- What am I supposed to do?”

Love me. She couldn’t say it out loud. She’d humiliated herself enough for one day. So she scrubbed away the tears and turned to peer up at him. “Did you love your wife?”

He pulled his hand away as if burned. “Of course I did. Marissa was a good woman.”

It hurt so much it made her mean. “Then maybe you should hold off proposing until you find another good woman,” she snapped, stalking toward the table. “You know. One you can love.”

“That isn’t fair.” The darkness in his eyes turned stormy. “This has nothing to do with her, and I didn’t say you weren’t a good woman.”

Being so damn hungry had ruined her dramatic exit, but if she wanted to lock herself in the bathroom she’d have to bring something to eat. Hazel picked up her plate and refused to look at him. “You’re right. It has nothing to do with her. But if you got to marry someone you loved once, I don’t really see why you’d settle for something less.”

Oliver started to speak, but snapped his mouth shut and drove his fingers into his hair with a harsh growl. “If you don’t want to marry me, don’t marry me. I’m sorry I offended you, but you don’t get to make me feel like shit about it. You’re the one who said no.”

At least he thought she was offended instead of broken-hearted. She clutched her plate and inched past him, praying she could keep the tears in until she’d found someplace safe to cry. “Fine. Let’s just not discuss it again.”

“Well, you -- I --” He scowled at her. “Fine.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Where are you going?”

She shuddered and spun away from him. “I don’t know. I suppose getting in bed with me isn’t very appealing at the moment, but I have no idea what will happen to me if I leave.”

He snorted. “Are you so horrified that running away sounds good?”

Her hands trembled so hard she had to curl her fingers more tightly around the plate to keep from dropping it. “If you could look me in the eye and tell me you loved me, I’d marry you tomorrow. But I deserve someone who loves me, even if it means I can’t have you.” She wanted to say something else -- to say something to make him understand -- but tears closed her throat.

Heartbroken and humiliated, she fled for the second time that afternoon.

* * *

God damn it all to hell.

Oliver stomped across the room, intent on going after Hazel, but a knock at the door stopped him. He crossed and yanked it open to find the Lonely River pack’s beta, Thomas Crawford, standing there. “What can I do for you?”

Thomas stared at him for several silent seconds before his nostrils flared. “Noah Hampton showed up in town with a broken arm and no idea what had happened to Hazel. Jack and Lottie were concerned.”

“Don’t really know. I guess he acted like a jackass, and Hazel thrashed him for it.”

“Oh.” The beta’s gaze flicked past him and fixed on the door to the bathroom, where Hazel’s faint sobs would be audible to anyone with their hearing. “Do you need some help? She sounds… distressed.”

“She is,” he shot back, his voice raw. “I asked her to marry me, and now she hates me.” He didn’t even know why her refusal bothered him so much.

Thomas cleared his throat rather noisily. “I… didn’t know you were interested in marrying Hazel.”

“I like Hazel.” Something about the beta’s tone put him on the defensive. “I’m not the worst catch ever. I don’t love her. I don’t know her. But I want to. What’s so wrong with that?”

The older man actually winced. “And from the fact that she’s crying in the other room, I assume that’s exactly what you said to her.”

“What else would I say?”

“Oh, for the love of --” Thomas bit off the word and stepped back, gesturing sharply for Oliver to follow him. “You can’t have been with her more than five or six hours. There’s no way the mating fever has passed already. I need to know if you can handle her until it does.”

Oliver stepped out onto the porch. “Depends on her, mostly. I haven’t changed my mind about anything.”

“Hazel’s got a temper,” Thomas pointed out. “She broke Hampton’s arm in two places and might have cracked a couple of ribs, too. Can you handle that if she decides she’d rather fight than -- than have sex?”

The thought would have been disturbing if it hadn’t been so ridiculous. “I can handle it.”

Thomas snorted. “You’re an arrogant son-of-a-bitch, aren’t you? If I’d just made a woman cry with a marriage proposal, I’d be a little less cocky about my charm.”

“Now, that part was perplexing,” Oliver admitted. “But it’s still nothing I can’t handle. See you around, Crawford.”

Thomas ignored the obvious dismissal and raised his voice. “Hazel, it’s Thomas. Do you need anything, sweetheart?”

Oliver heard the bathroom door slam open, but only her voice drifted out. “Go home, Thomas. I’ll deal with Oliver fucking Russell on my own.”

The beta rocked back on his heels and gave Oliver an almost sympathetic look. “Well, then. I suppose it goes without saying, but I’ll say it anyway. If you hurt her with anything other than your deep and incurable idiocy on the topic of women, I’ll come back out here and shoot you myself.”

“As it stands, I think my incurable idiocy is the only thing we have to worry about.” Oliver jerked his head toward the hallway. “I’ll fix it.”

Hazel made a rude, angry noise loud enough to be heard from the bathroom and slammed the door again. Thomas winced. “Lottie packed a bag for her, in case it turned out she was here. Do you want to take it in to her?”

“I’ll take it.” Oliver rubbed a hand over his face. “If it turns out she doesn’t want to stay, I’ll bring her back as soon as it’s safe to.”

“I know you will.” He moved to his mare’s side and reached for the bag. “I know you’re a good man, Oliver, but she’s a woman who’s had strong feelings for you for a long time. And a few weeks ago…” Thomas hesitated and then sighed. “Everyone’s been telling her to get over you and move on. Maybe it wasn’t their place, but Jack and Ginny were worried. If you and everyone and their cousin’s been telling her you don’t love her, it’s not surprising she’s feeling a little uncertain about imminent matrimony.”

“It’ll work out.” He wasn’t sure what else to say, because he wasn’t sure how it would work out. Not yet.

Thomas held out the bag. “I hope it does. If anything happens, bring her out to Jack’s old place. I’m staying there now.”

“Will do.” He accepted the bag with a nod. “Unless she throws something heavy at my head and leaves me to bleed to death in the kitchen.”

“For all of our sakes, please dodge.” Thomas swung up onto his horse. “Take care of her, Oliver.”

He waved as Thomas rode away and then walked inside. He took Hazel’s bag straight to the bedroom, placed it at the end of the bed and sat down to wait for her.

She took her sweet time. He was starting to worry when he finally heard her footsteps in the hall and the floorboards just outside his bedroom creak. She stared at him from the doorway, her brown hair hanging in damp strands around her face and wearing only a large towel.

Though her eyes were red, she didn’t look sad anymore. She looked angry. “Did you and Thomas have a nice chat about what a stupid little girl I am?”

“No.” He rested his hands on his knees. “We had a nice chat about what an idiotic jackass I am.”

Her expression turned wary for a second before she resumed the annoyed, determined look. “We need ground rules. And the first one is no more talking about marriage while I’m out of my mind with mating fever. It’s not fair and it won’t do any good anyway.”

“All right.” He wasn’t going to mention it again, anyway. Not if it got him yelled at and made her cry. “That seems reasonable.”

His agreement seemed to throw her off her stride. Something vulnerable flashed in her eyes before she jerked her gaze away from his. “Okay. Um, second rule. No doing anything that’s meant to make me fall more in love with you. That’s not fair, either.”

His hands clenched involuntarily. “I’m not sure I can agree to that, seeing as how I wasn’t aware I was doing anything to make you fall in love with me in the first place. But maybe, if you tell me what those things are, I can avoid them.”

Color flooded her cheeks, but she refused to meet his eyes. “I don’t need sweet, gentle sex and tender touches. I just need whatever will shut the wolf up fastest, if you’re willing to do it.”

Her words startled him, mostly because he didn’t remember making an effort to be especially tender with her. “I can do that.”

“Okay.” She swallowed audibly as she loosened her grip on the towel. It slithered down her body to pool on the floor, leaving her naked and standing just a few feet away. “I don’t know if you can still stand the idea of helping me, but if you can… I need it. I need something.”

He reached down and tugged off one boot, then the other. He could do whatever she needed, except listen to her talk like touching her was a hardship. He’d give her what she wanted, what she needed, and he’d fix everything he could later.

There was always later.

* * *

It wasn’t fair that she could be furious and hurt and still so turned on she had to struggle for every breath. As upset as the woman was, the wolf was already hungry for the press of Oliver’s power wrapping around her.

She watched, heart pounding, as he rose without taking his eyes from hers. The intensity of his gaze raised the hair on the back of her neck, but she couldn’t look away, not even when he reached down and slowly unfastened his pants.

He took his time. Once he was naked, he circled her once, not touching. Then he stopped in front of her and took a deep breath. “Don’t move.”

For some reason, the words made her shiver. “You just want me to stand here?”

“Yes.” He knelt in front of her and rubbed his thumb over the swell of her hip. “Just don’t move.”

She tried to obey, but he kept staring at her. His dark eyes studied her face and body so intently she wanted to squirm. She’d had plenty of men stare at her -- whenever her power flared every man in the saloon tended to gawk a little -- but those men had stared at a strong young wolf who might be ready to mate soon.

Oliver just stared at the woman, at Hazel, and it was too much. She closed her eyes and lifted her arms in an attempt to shield her body. “You’re making me self-conscious.”

He caught her arms and skimmed his lips and tongue up the front of her body as he stood. The hard length of his erect cock nudged her belly, and he turned her toward the bed. “Bend over.”

Her breath caught, and she struggled against a soft whimper as she curled her fingers around the rumpled quilt. He barely touched her except to grasp her hips and hold her still while he eased his cock into her, a slow, deliberate invasion that left her gasping for breath.

Somehow it felt all the more overpowering for being so careful and calculated. She felt every inch of him as he pushed into her body, a stark reminder of his size and strength. She groaned and tried to push back, to put an end to his slow taunting, but he held her tightly. “No. Feel me, right now, because I’m about to fuck you six ways from Sunday, Hazel. That’s what you wanted, right?”

She panted for breath and tried to convince herself it wasn’t what she wanted, but there was no point in lying. Not to herself, and not to him. “Yes.”

“Then that’s what I’m going to do.” He began to move, driving into her with sharp, sudden thrusts that were impossible to anticipate and seemed to hit every place inside her that was desperate for him. He pulled her hips back to meet every advance, heightening the sensation until her knees weakened and it was only his firm grip on her hips that kept her from collapsing to the bed.

It was hard and intense and showed a level of skill that made Hazel wonder about all sorts of things she shouldn’t have. Her arms trembled, and his next thrust drove her to her elbows, sharpening the angle even more.

Oliver bent over her, his breath blowing warm against her back. “This is what you want? Really what you want?”

The wolf wanted it. That wild need inside her would have been happy with more, and harder. She wanted dominance and strength, to be pinned under Oliver’s weight as he drove her into exhaustion.

But the tiny part of her that could think past the mating urge wanted all the things she’d forbidden him -- gentle touches and whispered words and him watching her while she found ecstasy in his touch.

She thought he might press her for an answer. Instead, he gathered her up against his chest and nuzzled his face into the curve of her neck. “This is what I want.” He stroked up her stomach to cup her breasts. “I want to touch you.”

“Why?” It came out as a moan, and she squeezed her eyes shut. “Why do you want to touch me?”

“Because you’re beautiful.” His thumbs flicked her nipples, and heat shot through her as she gasped. “Because you fascinate me.”

He was breaking the rules already, and she didn’t know how to stop him. Truth be told, she wasn’t even sure she wanted to. It would hurt more, in the long run, but he was so good at touching her. And if this is all I’m going to get, I want it all…

But not the romance. She lifted her arms above her head and wrapped them around the back of his neck. “So touch me. Fuck me. Do the growly werewolf thing and dominate me. Isn’t that what will help the wolf?”

Oliver made a quiet, indecipherable noise. “Maybe.” He pulled her arms free and picked her up. Then he stalked around the bed and bent her over the other side of it. “Watch,” he ordered, one hand in her hair lifting her head. “Watch me fuck you.”

She opened her eyes and found their reflection staring back at her from the mirror over his dresser. She looked flushed and disheveled, tiny compared to the bulk of Oliver’s body behind her. Her gaze found his in the mirror, and the naked lust on his face made her whole body tense with anticipation.

He didn’t take his eyes from the mirror as he drove into her again, settling into a hard, slow rhythm of thrusts. “What do you see, Hazel?”

“I -- I see --” She saw a desperate woman, rocking back to meet every advance. She saw flushed cheeks and glazed eyes that held more than a little gold. And she saw Oliver, his jaw clenched as he drove her toward release. The scent of sex and the sound of harsh breathing and skin on skin seemed so much more overwhelming when she could see his cock plunging into her.

“What do you see?” His voice was low, harsh. He groaned and sped the movement of his hips, slamming his hips against hers. “Tell me.”

Climax was so close she had to struggle to draw breath. “You’re fucking me,” she gasped. “Y-you… you’re taking me --”

“Hard. Fast. Nothing romantic about it.” Except that, even as he spoke, he stroked one hand down her back, soothing and tender. She trembled under his hand and closed her eyes as the pressure became too much.

But release wouldn’t come. Her body felt tight and heavy and she squirmed against him in an attempt to push closer. She was so close, so damn close to the sort of ecstasy that would wash away everything and satisfy that hunger inside her --

He hissed out a curse, and the hand on her back slipped around and drifted down her belly, finally centering on her clit. “Give in,” he grated out. “Let it come, baby.”

“I-I can’t --” Frustration cut through the pleasure, so sharp she wanted to cry. If it had been just sex she would have given up, but the painful drive to mate would be satisfied by nothing short of submission -- and not submission wrenched from her by forceful thrusts. She had to let go.

Letting go terrified her.

He stopped, and she whimpered and pressed her forehead to the comforter as she fought a shuddering wave of discomfort. “I’m sorry, I can’t -- I’m sorry.”

“Shh.” He turned Hazel in his arms and lifted her onto the bed. Moments later, he crawled up to lean over her. “You just need a minute, that’s all.” He stroked her damp hair as he spoke.

Oliver was going to break her heart, and she was going to let him. She knew it even as she twined her arms around his neck and pushed up against the warm strength of his body. “Help me,” she whispered, a soft plea for him to break the rules she’d given him. “Help me let go.”

“Shh.” Oliver slid his hands under her hips as he nestled between her legs, urging her to meet the gentle thrust that brought him inside her again. When he rocked against her, he braced one hand on the bed and brought her chest up to his. “Don’t worry so much.”

The intimacy was almost too much. Every rocking thrust rubbed their bodies together, and the strong hand splayed against her back kept her pinned against him as if it were effortless. She shivered and let her head fall back as pleasure twisted around her again.

This time she didn’t fight it, even if her longing adoration of Oliver was twisted up in the mating instinct and rising warmth. For one moment she let her human side -- the side concerned with marriage and mundane concerns -- slip away. The man moving against and inside her was her mate, and in this place, at this time, she belonged to him.

She whispered his name once before climax took her. She thought she might have screamed, but the rush of white-hot ecstasy made it hard to focus on anything else. The wolf howled her triumph inside as Hazel dug her fingers into his shoulders and bucked up against him, only one word coming to her lips. “Yes.”

She felt the heat of Oliver’s breath on her neck and the sting of his teeth, and he shook above her. He kept driving into her, finally shuddering to a stop as he shouted against her skin.

Floating on a wave of satisfied relief, she let the careful guard on her tongue slip. “I love you.”

He kissed her and moved, drawing her against his chest. “Rest, sweetheart.”

She shivered until he curled an arm around her, surrounding her in the warmth of his body and the power that burned so brightly inside him. The terror and dread from before had vanished, washed away by giddy relief as the mating fever eased for the first time. She slid one hand over his and curled her fingers around his wrist. “Stay with me?”

He drew away to pull the quilt over them, then grasped her hand again. “Nowhere I’d rather be.” His lips brushed her ear. “Now sleep.”

Chapter Five

Oliver cleared his throat as Hazel folded a shirt and placed it in her saddlebag. “You sure you’ll be all right riding back into town on your own?”

“My horse seems to feel a little better about me today,” Hazel replied, her voice so lighthearted it sounded forced. Certainly the tone didn’t match the tight look around her eyes. “Thomas swears an afternoon wandering the prairie without me did wonders for her temper. I’ll be fine.”

He closed his eyes and remembered her face the way it had looked the night before, tense with pleasure as he slid his fingers inside her and brought her to orgasm. “You have to be careful, though. Maybe I should ride with you, just in case.”

She gave a tiny little sigh. “Oliver, I’ve been riding out to Ginny’s on my own since I was fifteen. And I’m sure you have things to do around here that you didn’t have time to deal with over the last few days. You’ve given me enough of your time.”

His hands tightened around the bedstead. She’d been fine on her own, but that was before she’d been in his bed. Before she belonged to him. “Sure,” he muttered. “Sure, I’ve got things to do.”

The quiet sounds of packing ceased, and she sighed again. “Look at me, Oliver.”

He did, and he wished he hadn’t as memories surfaced again. Hazel, her head thrown back in ecstasy. Hazel, her lips around his cock. “What?”

Her gaze softened. “I love you. Your instincts are all riled up now, but you don’t love me. If you’re still interested in marrying me, take some time and get your head on straight, then maybe you can get to know me. But I’m not going to sit around and wait, Oliver. I’m not going to go home and stop living on the off chance that you’ll fall in love with me some day.”

Pain ripped through him. He wanted to say something to counter her words, or the gentle certainty in her gaze. “I still want to marry you. That hasn’t changed, and it isn’t going to.”

Tears filled those huge brown eyes, and she looked down at her bag as she tucked a pair of pants into it. “Not for the right reasons. Maybe the wolf is content with the mating bond, but I’m human, too. And I’m too young to give up on being loved.”

There was nothing he could say to change her mind, and Oliver wouldn’t have even if there had been. She was right; she deserved more than a convenient, comforting arrangement from a widowed rancher with more stubbornness than sense. “I understand, Hazel. And you -- you should be happy.”

The last dress went into her bag, and she smoothed her fingers over it as if stalling for time. “If you think -- I mean, if you get settled down and think that you might be able to fall in love with me… People used to do that before the War, you know. Date. Take their time. You could come and see me.”

“Courting, you mean.”

Her nose wrinkled. “Yeah. I imagine my circle of panting admirers will have mostly vanished now that I’m not going to fall into an uncontrolled lust at any moment, so I’ll have plenty of time.”

Jealousy surged through him, and he fought to keep his expression neutral. “If that was all they wanted, you’re better off without them. You’re too good for that.”

“I know.” She buckled the pack shut and finally looked up at him again. “So… maybe I’ll see you, once you’ve had time to think?”

He couldn’t imagine being able to stay away. “I’ll be around, Hazel.”

She smiled at him, shy and a little nervous, and hoisted the pack off the bed. “Thank you for taking care of me, Oliver. I’m sorry I got us both into such a mess.”

He started to take the pack from her, but drew his hands back. “You’re welcome. And it wasn’t such a mess.”

For one awkward moment she stared at him, her eyes alight with longing. Then she turned and cleared her throat. “Goodbye.”

He stood there, not trusting himself to see her to the door. He’d readied her horse, and all she had to do was ride away.

Out of his life.

He forced himself to sit on the edge of the bed as she walked out, and he stared at his reflection in the vanity mirror. She was right, and he knew it. She didn’t need to settle for someone who might love her. She deserved someone who knew.

* * *

The only thing worse than a broken heart is feeling it break one day at a time.

Hazel had set herself up for a peculiar sort of hell, that was for sure. She should have marched out of Oliver Russell’s life with her head held high and come home to cry over him for a few days. Maybe it would have been irrational and immature, but it would have been over. Instead she’d given him some sort of open-ended invitation to woo her at his convenience.

Apparently wooing her wasn’t very convenient. Or else he’d never wanted to at all. Maybe he’d taken her at her word that she’d move on, and this was just a way to avoid the awkward task of telling her to her face that he could never love her.

Hazel marked the end of the second week of waiting with enough Scotch to kill a human man. It got her mildly drunk, drunk enough to flirt with Kyle Albertson, who was twice her age and hungry for a wife. This is moving on, she told herself as she stroked her fingers over the back of Kyle’s hand. But the buzz from the Scotch was already fading when she let him talk her out the door into the street.

The sun rested low on the horizon, and Kyle’s hand had migrated down as well, from the small of her back to the curve of her ass. She snarled -- not at the presumption so much as the fact that he couldn’t even wait until they were in private -- but she didn’t get a chance to smack him.

Oliver pulled Kyle away, spinning him around, and his enraged growl almost drowned out the sound of his fist hitting Kyle’s jaw.

“Oliver!” Hazel grabbed his arm and tried to drag him back. “Jesus Christ, have you lost your mind?”

“You snarled.” He seemed bizarrely calm, even as he watched Kyle stagger away. “He was doing something you didn’t like.”

She opened her mouth to retort but realized they were drawing a crowd of onlookers, some of whom had stepped out of the saloon just to watch. So she ground her teeth together and dragged Oliver into the small alley beside the saloon. “I can handle Kyle Albertson on my own. As a matter of fact, I can handle most of the men in this damn town on my own.” The one exception, of course, being the one standing in front of me.

“Doesn’t mean you should have to.” He glared at the onlookers, who scattered immediately. “He had no right.”

“Most men don’t,” Hazel agreed. “Like the ones who ignore you for two weeks and then show up out of the blue to punch people on your behalf.”

He scowled at her. “I took you at your word. You know, when you told me to take some time to get my head straight.”

“I --” All her righteous anger disappeared, because it was true. Her chest felt tight as she turned away. “Yeah. I guess I didn’t think it would take this long for you to decide if you might be able to love me some day.”

“It didn’t.” Oliver shoved his hand through his hair. “If I hadn’t been pretty damn sure I could love you someday, I wouldn’t have proposed. What I needed to get straight -- what I needed to figure out -- was that I already do.”

Exhilaration rose at the words, and Hazel stomped it down with vicious ruthlessness. Not until she knew this time, not until she was sure. My heart can only take so much.

She sought his gaze. “Are you saying you fell in love with me during the last two weeks?”

He stepped closer and framed her face with his hands. “I’m saying I realized why I wanted to hang on to you so bad. I love you, Hazel. I don’t know how long I have, but I know it’s true.”

“How do you not know?” she whispered, doubts still churning in her stomach. “I know exactly when I fell in love with you. The day Thomas told me that my mother had turned up dead. I hadn’t seen her in seven years and she’d deserted me anyway, but I still cried all morning. And you played chess with me in the saloon that night for an hour and didn’t say anything about my puffy face and red eyes, just played and let me win, though I didn’t figure that part out for another year.”

He pressed his lips to her cheek. “I don’t know. There’s always been something in me that belonged to you, but I didn’t know what that meant or what to call it. I guess I was scared to call it anything, because then I’d have to worry about losing you.”

She shivered and pressed her forehead to his chest. “Is that why you were so pissed off at me at Ginny’s house?”

“You didn’t stay down and you almost got yourself shot, woman.” He folded his arms around her with a groan. “God, it took me a while to puzzle out why I was so damned mad about that.”

“Well, I’m not exactly a trained gun fighter.” She curled her fingers around his shoulders and reveled in the warmth of his body. “Take me home, Oliver. We can get married in the morning. I want you to -- to make love to me tonight.”

His eyes were dark, gentle. “Are you sure? You said something about courting, and I don’t want to rush you.”

“I said something about courting because I didn’t want to rush you.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Unless you’re not sure you love me. I swear to God, Oliver Russell, if you’re not being honest, I’m going to murder you in your sleep.”

He just laughed and rubbed his thumb over her jaw. “I know better than to try something like that, Hazel Young. I like all my body parts.”

So do I. She laughed and caught his thumb between her teeth with a possessive growl.

“I brought my fastest horse,” he informed her with a chuckle. “You can sit in front of me and wiggle, and I can grope you. How’s that sound?”

It still sounded like an awful long time to get her hands on him. She slid one hand down and dug her fingers into his lower back. “Sounds like it had better be a lot of groping, or I’m going to take you right here.”

He groaned. “Would it be faster to get to Lottie’s house?”

“Maybe…” She was struck with the sudden certainty that she didn’t want to. “But I’ll make myself behave, because I want to be in your bed, Oliver. I want to be in it, doing naughty things to you, until it feels like our bed.”

He stared down at her, hot and sweet. “Then we’ll ride real fast, but I’d better not grope you too much or we’ll fall off.”

Hazel snatched his hand up in her own and all but dragged him toward the street. “Where in hell is your damn horse?”

Oliver laughed, but the sound was strained. “In front of the saloon. And I’m about to throw you over my shoulder, woman.”

“Well, that would cause a scandal, wouldn’t it?” She couldn’t help the tiny laugh that escaped. “Though you know, not as much as you punching men out if they look at me funny.”

“The scandal will be when you disappear for another two days.”

As if anyone would doubt what they were up to. Hazel imagined even the humans might be able to feel the overwhelming rush of energy that coursed off Oliver in waves. The power excited her, made her long to test herself against him. And to have all that formidable attention focused on her and her alone…

She shivered as they hit the open street and tightened her fingers around his hand. “If we’re only at your house for two days, I’ll be amazed.”

“Didn’t say that.” He reached the large, well-muscled roan and helped her up before untying the horse. “Just said you weren’t coming up for air ’til then.”

A shiver of anticipation woke the wolf, and the horse shifted nervously beneath her. Hazel found Oliver’s gaze and knew what he’d see in her eyes -- the dangerous creature lurking just below the surface. “You’d best get me home before I’m so riled not a horse in town’ll get within ten feet of me.”

He climbed up after her and murmured to the horse, a gentle tug of the reins enough to send the animal toward the south end of Main Street.

Oliver kept one arm wrapped tightly around Hazel’s waist until they got out of town. Then he handed her the reins. “Can you guide him?”

She tightened her fingers on the well-polished leather and nodded. “Of course. But… why?”

His only answer was to drop his hand to her upper thigh. “Because.”

“Oh.” Breathing got a whole lot harder, and her eyes fluttered shut for a moment as she imagined the sheer illicit thrills to be had from Oliver’s hands on her body, and out in the open, no less. “Well, then. You go right ahead.”

His teeth scraped the side of her neck as his fingers tugged at her skirt, gathering it high on her leg. He soothed the ravaged skin with his tongue and blew on it. “It’s a good fifteen minute ride out to my place at a faster pace than this,” he noted lazily.

Her entire body felt tense as she urged the horse to speed up. “Tell me what we’re going to do when we get there.”

“I haven’t shown you the barn yet.” His fingers pressed hard against her inner thigh for a moment. “Plenty of soft hay and clean horse blankets.”

Closing her eyes wasn’t the smartest thing to do, but Hazel figured the horse wasn’t likely to run into anything. “More. Tell me more.”

“We need more naked fucking,” he rasped. “We’re always half-clothed, and I want to be able to look at you while I make love to you.”

The hand on her inner thigh taunted her. She fidgeted a little, half trying to rub against his cock and half hoping he’d inch his fingers just a little higher. “I’ll stay naked in your bed for the next week. You won’t even have to tie me to it unless you want to.”

“Maybe for fun.” His hand crept closer to the juncture of her thighs. “Maybe you should tie me to the bed.”

“I will,” she whispered, all her concentration fixed on the fingers brushing the sensitive skin of her leg. “And I’ll make you watch while I get myself off over and over again.”

Oliver groaned and bit her neck. “You think that’s a good idea? By the time you untied me, I’d be crazy with lust.”

She was almost crazy with lust by now. “Who said I’d untie you at all? You’re strong enough to rip through anything, if you’re determined. How many times would I have to come before you tore free and got your hands on me?”

He half-chuckled, half-growled in her ear. “Depends on how much you screamed.”

“Depends on what you do when you’re crazy with lust.”

His fingers touched her underwear. “Not fast. Slow. Slow enough to make you crazy, too.”

“I’m already crazy, Oliver.” She leaned her head back on his shoulder. “You’d better take these reins and get us home, or I’m going to drag you off this horse and take you right here in the open and damned if I care if anyone catches us.”

He took the leather straps from her and spoke softly as his arm tightened around her. The horse broke into a trot, and Oliver went back to murmuring in her ear. “I have a fur rug I lay out in front of the fireplace in winter.”

It conjured a dozen dirty images, and she struggled to catch her breath as she wrapped both hands around his arm. “I don’t know what I want more… your tongue inside me again, or me on my knees while you fuck me.”

“No reason you have to choose.”

Hazel groaned and closed her eyes. “How far away is your damn house?”

“Not far now, darlin’. Just relax and tell me everything else you want to do on that rug.”

She thought of the fantasies she’d imagined during the long, lonely nights. She thought of the dark, dangerous images that filled her head when she touched herself and thought of Oliver. “Some of them are so dirty, I worry you’ll think I’m a freak.”

“Not possible, Hazel.” He nuzzled her ear with another growl. “There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do to you if you wanted it.”

The words made her shake even as they let her admit the one thing she’d always been a little bit ashamed of. “I always blame it on the wolf, but she’s not the only one who likes the dominant stuff.”

It took him a while to answer. “It’s… been a long time since I let myself want that kind of thing.”

She fought a sudden wave of nerves. “You don’t have to. We don’t -- I don’t care. I mean, I won’t mind --”

“Hazel.” His lips pressed against her cheek. “It doesn’t mean I don’t want to. It just means I’m used to ignoring the part of me that does. That’s all.”

It stirred the fear that she’d had all along, the fear that such things were dirty and wrong, and she’d been warped by spending her formative years in a brothel. “Why would you ignore it?”

“Marissa, my wife --” He cleared his throat and slowed the horse to a walk again. “She wasn’t fond of that sort of thing.”

“Oh.” She didn’t know what else to say. “I’m sorry. That I brought it up, I mean.”

“It’s not your fault, and it’s not a big deal,” he insisted. “It’s only that old habits die hard, and you -- you have to tell me what you want. So that I can give it to you.”

Hazel slid her hand down his arm until she found his fingers. “I don’t know what I want. Not really. It’s all fantasy and theoretical knowledge and --” She thought about how quickly he’d punched Kyle and decided to leave off mention of the human boys she’d experimented with. “Well, that’s pretty much it.”

“Then we’ll figure it out.” He squeezed her fingers.

They crested a small hill, and Hazel stared at Oliver’s house with a mixture of sharp anticipation and nerves. She swallowed and clutched at his hand. “I want to start in your bed.”

When they reached the house, he slid down and helped her from the horse. “Go on inside while I stable him. I’ll be just a minute.”

She watched him lead his horse to the barn, then turned and scurried for the front door of his house.

Our house. She tried it out in her head, just to see how it sounded… and wasn’t sure how she felt about it. Maybe because, in her rash promise to marry him, she’d forgotten one important detail. They’d never actually gotten around to having sex without the urge to mate driving them both a little insane.

It was a silly thing to worry about, but it didn’t stop her from doing so as she avoided the kitchen and sitting room and, instead, went straight to his bedroom. The bed looked both enticing and intimidating. She distracted herself by stripping off her clothes, determined to be waiting when Oliver returned. They were going to have the hottest non-mating sex imaginable. And then she’d believe in her happily ever after.

* * *

Oliver had been setting new speed records for farm chores since Hazel first set foot in his house, and tonight was no exception. He grinned as he bounded up the front steps in search of his future bride.

He followed her scent through the house and found her in the bedroom, her clothing in a pile on the floor. She reclined on the pillows, her dark hair fanned out over the white linens, and his entire body tightened. “Comfortable?”

“A little cold.” She held out both hands to him, and they trembled a little. “Come warm me up?”

It took him a minute to get out of his boots, and he watched her as he reached for his shirt. “I’m coming, love.” It felt like he’d been waiting forever to get her in his bed when they could think clearly, and he wasn’t going to rush anything.

Faint color tinged her cheeks, and she shifted her arms slightly as if to cover her body. “I get nervous when you stare at me. I never know what you’re thinking.”

He’d never been one to share what he was thinking. “You look beautiful, and I’ve been waiting for this.”

“You have?” She sounded almost surprised.

His shirt hit the floor, and he unbuckled his belt. “It’s why I kept going too slow when you had the fever. Why I wasn’t --” Oliver cleared his throat, ashamed that she had to wonder how much he wanted her. “I wanted to make love to you.”

“Oh.” The color in her cheeks deepened, but she rose to her knees and held out her hands again. “Come here. I want to help.”

He walked over and cupped her face as he stood in front of her. “I love you. And I want to marry you.”

Hazel reached up and covered his hands with her own, and they seemed so small over his. “Then we’ll get married. Soon.”

“As soon as you’re ready.” He guided her hands down to his trousers. Her fingers fumbled a little, but she managed. As she began to free the small row of buttons, she leaned forward and brushed her lips over his chest.

His head fell back, and he slipped one hand into her hair. Need overwhelmed him as Hazel loosened his pants. He wanted to go slowly, to do all the things he’d wanted to before. Now her abandon -- her submission -- challenged his resolve.

He felt the sting of teeth a moment before slim, warm fingers wrapped around his cock. “Tell me what you want.”

He growled low in his throat. “Lie down.”

She lifted her head and stared at him for several tense heartbeats, her brown eyes hot with the slightest hint of challenge. But she moved without argument, sinking back to the bed without taking her gaze from his.

His heart pounded. “Grab the headboard.”

Another pause, longer this time, and her heart pounded as loudly as his as she lifted deceptively slender arms and curled her fingers around the wooden headboard.

Oliver struggled to keep his breathing even as he dropped his pants and underwear beside the bed and crawled up beside her. “Close your eyes.”

Her eyebrows came together. “I want to watch you.”

Her defiance triggered something in him, deep and primal, and he growled and bared his teeth. “In a minute. Right now, close your eyes.”

She reacted to the low command with a shiver and a flush that stole down her neck. Her tongue darted out to wet her lower lip, and finally she closed her eyes with a soft, aroused noise.

He started with her throat, feathering tender kisses over her soft skin as he stroked her upraised arms. “Every single inch of you, Hazel. Nothing untouched.”

“And all of it yours,” she whispered, submission slightly tempered by her next words. “You know, when I want it to be.”

He smiled against the upper curve of her breast. “But only then?”

“Mmm.” She rubbed her legs together, as if trying to relieve the growing arousal that filled his senses. “It’s your job to make sure I want to be yours.”

“You will.” He turned his attention to her breasts, licking and sucking her nipples to hard points. When her skin was wet from his mouth, he blew across it and groaned when she cried out and squirmed under his touch.

She was panting already, so aroused she whimpered when he lifted one leg and drew his tongue past her knee and up the inside of her thigh. “You said you wanted my tongue inside you. Do you still want that?”

“Yes. God, yes. Please.”

His tenuous grip on control slipped a little, and he bit her hip. “I’m going to fuck you with my mouth, darlin’. I want to feel you come.”

Her eyes popped open, and she stared down at him with naked lust. “That should take about twenty seconds.”

“Then you’ll do it again.” He guided her legs over his shoulders and pushed her thighs apart. “A lot.”

She groaned, tilted back her head and lifted her hips in a desperate plea. “I want to feel it again,” she choked out, her voice hoarse. “It was so good… you’re so good at it.”

The words made his chest swell with pride and satisfaction. “Better, darlin’. Now.” He bent his head and teased her with tiny licks, finally barely touching her clit. Her body twisted again, and he had to tighten his fingers on her hips to keep her still.

“It was never the mating,” she whispered suddenly, her voice cracking on another tiny moan. She lifted her head and sought his gaze, and lust wasn’t the only thing in her eyes this time. “I’ve needed you forever. I’ve wanted you forever.”

Only a few short weeks ago, those words would have sent panic lancing through him. Now, they brought only warmth, and he smiled. “I figured that part out. About both of us.”

Her breathing hitched. “I want to watch you.”

“Prop up on the pillows,” he whispered.

It took a little bit of wiggling, but a few moments later she was half reclined against the pillows. She reached down and smoothed her fingers through his hair, and her lips tugged up in a tender little smile. “You’re going to have to tie me down next time. I can’t keep myself from touching you.”

“I don’t mind.” He nibbled at her thigh, giving her time for her arousal to subside a little. If she wanted a show, he’d give her a show.

Her fingers tightened in his hair, tugging a little. “Why’d you stop?”

“Because it’ll be better when I start again.”

“That makes no damn sense, Oliver Russell.”

He rubbed his thumb over her clit in a slow, firm circle that brought her hips off the bed and wrenched a soft gasp from her. “Does it now?”

“I stand corrected.” Her tongue snuck out to wet her full lower lip. “Hope you don’t mind teaching me all the dirty things I don’t know yet. You seem pretty good at them.”

“I’m motivated.” So was his cock. It throbbed so painfully he had to move just to try and relieve the aching pressure. His patience slipped a little, and he leaned down to tongue her clit.

Her throaty cry filled his ears, and he had to grip her hips again to still her writhing. “More,” she pleaded in a husky whisper that sounded like surrender. “Please… please --”

Oliver froze for a second and then thrust his tongue inside her with a growl.

Only his hands kept her from bucking off the bed. She groaned and twisted against the bed, her fingers clenched in his hair tight enough to hurt. “Is this how you feel? Is this how hot it is when you watch me suck your cock?”

“Probably.” He twitched at the mere memory of her soft lips and quick pink tongue on his cock. “It’s pretty fucking hot, sweetheart.”

She shivered, and that dangerous little tongue swiped at her lips again. “There’s a way we can both do it at the same time, isn’t there? I mean, no one ever got too precise with the particulars, since Lottie got annoyed when anyone told me the lurid details, but I thought -- I mean, can we…?”

His breath caught, and he nodded as he rose. “Come here. It’s easier if -- Here.” He lifted her over him as he dropped to the bed on his back. “Like this.”

She ended up straddling his chest, and she glanced back over her shoulder with a slightly puzzled look that faded as her eyes widened. A wicked smile tugged at her lips. “Well, a lot of things make sense now.” And with that cryptic statement she twisted and bent down to wrap her mouth around the head of his cock.

Oliver groaned and caught himself before he tightened his hands too hard around her thighs. Instead, he gritted his teeth and pulled on Hazel’s hips, trying to get her closer to his mouth. When he could reach, he drew his tongue over her in one long stroke and growled again.

Her whimpers were ten times hotter when they vibrated against his cock. She rocked a bit, trying to get closer to his tongue, and her mouth slipped lower to encase another inch of him in wet heat.

He had to push her harder, to drive her closer to orgasm so he could follow. He thrust one finger inside her and nipped at her thigh.

Hazel’s head snapped up and she let out a choked noise and rocked again. “God, Oliver, I’m -- I’m going to --” Another moan, and she dropped her forehead to his thigh as her pussy clenched around his finger. “I -- I don’t want to hurt you by mistake --”

“Just don’t bite,” he rasped, and slid another finger into her. “Don’t stop, Hazel. I want to come with you.”

Small, strong fingers curled around the base of his cock as she lifted her head. She stroked him once, the movement jerky and uncoordinated. “I’ll try --”

Her mouth returned, hot but hesitant. Her hand continued its trembling strokes as she sucked at him. She was tense and trembling, so close to the edge he knew he could push her over with a few careful caresses.

“I trust you.” He plunged his tongue into her pussy.

She came hard and fast. Her body trembled above his, and her hand tightened on his cock as her quiet, desperate whimpers vibrated through him.

He tried to hold her still so he could bring her to the peak again, but he couldn’t wait. Her mouth was hot and the taste and scent of her filled his senses. His cock throbbed as he climaxed, and he closed his teeth on the curve of her ass.

Her head flew back and she reared upright with a soft cry. Panting moans filled the room as she rocked against him and stroked him through his climax. “Again,” she whimpered. “Again, bite me --”

He did, this time at the soft spot where her ass met the back of her thigh, and she made a choked noise. She ground down against his hand, circled her hips once against his fingers, still pressed tight to her clit, and stiffened.

She went limp as suddenly as she’d tensed, and a moment later she rolled away, landing on her back next to him. “Oh my God.”

Oliver could barely breathe, much less formulate a coherent response. “Uh-huh.”

“Was it still okay?” Her breathlessness sounded tinged with a faint hint of nerves. “I -- I sort of… didn’t quite…”

“Didn’t quite what?”

“Keep my mouth where it was supposed to be.”

Her words were so shocking he barked out a laugh and sat up. “Christ, darlin’. I think your mouth was perfect.”

“Yeah?” She propped herself up on her elbows and studied him as if trying to ascertain the truth of his words. “Even though I lost control and made you come on my chest?”

He flashed her his laziest grin. “That’s what bathtubs are for.”

She laughed, looking absolutely debauched with her swollen lips, disheveled hair and his seed decorating her breasts. “Am I a bad woman for hoping you’ll fuck me there, too?”

He rolled over to lie beside her. “Uh-uh. You have to marry me first.”

“I do, do I?” Her hair spilled over her shoulder and tickled his chest when she leaned over and brushed a kiss over the corner of his mouth. “Well, we might be in trouble, then, since I don’t think anyone’s going to come here and marry us like this, but I don’t think I’m going to get cleaned up without trying to molest you in your bathtub.”

He slapped the side of her ass. “You’ll have to go it alone, then, darlin’.”

Hazel bit his bottom lip. “I’ve been alone for a really long time,” she whispered. “You can’t blame me for not wanting to let go of you now.”

“You’re not letting go.” Oliver wove his fingers into her hair. “Not ever again.”

Her eyes drifted shut, and she pressed her forehead to his. “It might take me a while to get used to this. I’ve spent an awful lot of time trying to convince myself I shouldn’t dream about you. I keep thinking I’m going to wake up.”

Another stab of guilt washed through him. “I didn’t know. I didn’t know a lot of things.”

“Just promise me you won’t let go.”

“I won’t let go, darlin’.” It would take a while for her to believe him, and he knew it. But he had time. “I won’t.”

“Mmm.” Her voice sounded sleepy. “Come take a bath with me? Please? We don’t have to do anything, I just don’t want to stop touching you.”

He rolled her over onto her back. “Rest. It’ll be a while, but I’ll get it ready.” He dropped a kiss to her cheek and climbed from the bed.

* * *

Hazel had a thousand things to think about, but none of them seemed important as she listened to Oliver moving about in the bathroom. Even with her eyes closed there could be no mistaking where she was -- not with Oliver’s scent covering the blankets, the bed…

Me.

Sleepy contentment made it hard to open her eyes even when she heard soft footsteps returning. She smiled and squinted up at Oliver, thinking he’d never looked more gorgeous. “Bath’s ready?”

“Mmm, come on.” He gathered her into his arms and padded back across the scuffed hardwood floor. “Want me to climb in with you, after all?”

It was the fantasy of her first afternoon, floating in warm water with Oliver’s solid chest at her back and his arms around her. “Please.”

He slipped her into the tub and settled in behind her, his hands moving over her arms and chest in long, wet strokes. “Where do you want to get married?”

“I don’t know. Suppose a brothel’s not a nice place to have a wedding, but Lottie’ll be heartbroken if she doesn’t get to have a say.” Hazel turned her head and rubbed her cheek against the warmth of his chest. “She didn’t have to take me in and take care of me. I owe her a lot.”

“Maybe she’ll want to have a party at her house. Or maybe at Jack and Ginny’s.”

Hazel doubted she’d care much at all, as long as Oliver was there with her. “Do you care either way?”

He grinned and nibbled her shoulder. “Let Lottie decide. Just tell me where to show up.”

She wondered, suddenly, if he’d been like this with his first wedding. She tilted her head a little, inviting him silently to let his soft caresses continue up her neck. But even the creeping warmth that followed his mouth couldn’t completely ease her sudden nerves. Instinct screamed at her to stay silent, to accept his caresses and trust in him. Trust in her mate.

But she wasn’t all instinct, and the human fear rose up again. The fear that instinct would fade and his love would prove to be nothing more than fondness mixed up in the urge to mate.

He whispered against her ear. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m --” Scared. Worried. “I’m just thinking.”

“About what?”

She’d never had a problem speaking her mind before, but her need to know the truth fought with the part of her that wanted to cling to anything she could get, even if it turned out to be an illusion. In the end, she settled for a compromise. “I guess I’m trying to figure out how I changed.” Why I’m good enough now.

“How you changed?” His eyes were dark as he studied her. “I don’t follow.”

Hazel had to close her eyes to cling to the courage to continue. “At first I thought I was too young. And then I got older, and I thought… I probably just wasn’t your type. Because there aren’t a lot of women out here, and if I’d been your type at all, I figured you would have at least given me a chance. And -- and people told me I wasn’t your type, that I wasn’t anything like your first wife.”

He remained silent for several moments. “You’re not anything like Marissa. But you weren’t the one who needed to do anything, Hazel. It was me.”

“You?”

“Me.” He lifted one shoulder in a tiny shrug. “I wasn’t ready.”

He seemed so damn strong. And so quiet. Hazel lived with her emotions on the surface, there for everyone to see. But Oliver…

She twisted around, splashing water dangerously close to the rim of the tub as she wriggled until she could stare up at him. “I can never tell what’s going on in your head. And that means I’m never sure of anything. How you felt about your wife, or about me, about all the dirty sex I want to have --”

He pressed one finger to her lips. “I’m never going to be real chatty. That’s not going to change. But I can tell you that I love you, and I want you like crazy.”

With her heart pounding, she nipped his finger and released it quickly. “Even though I’m loud and crass and have a short temper and might throw things at you when I’m mad?”

“I’m fast. And you don’t scare me, little Hazel.”

And in the end, that was what she loved the most, the one thing she’d never thought about before. That Oliver was a man who would never be afraid of her, not even at her worst. Not when the wolf fought to take over and she turned feral. Dangerous.

He was strong enough.

She lifted up until her lips brushed his, and smiled at the way his warm hands slid around her back, large and callused and every touch feeling of safety. She bit his lower lip and soothed the bite with her tongue. “Mine.”

He curled one hand in her wet hair and growled. “Yes.” The word rumbled out of him as his teeth scraped her jaw. “Mine.”

It felt so good she thought breathing might be hard. “Again. Say it again.”

“Mine.” He kissed her, sucking her bottom lip into his mouth for a gentle bite. “My wife.”

Two little words, but he said them with a hoarse joy that thrilled her human half even as the scrape of his teeth and the possessive grasp of his hands pleased the wolf. It had been years since human and wolf had both been content -- all the years since the wolf had fixed on Oliver as the only male strong enough to be worthy.

Cradled by that strength, she nuzzled her face into his neck and said the only two words in the world that sounded better. “My husband.”