Accidental Surrogate

Ella

I don’t have the chance to gasp, because the moment my lips part, Sinclair’s mouth has claimed them. His hand is firm on my nape, holding me in place so he can plunder my mouth at will. His tongue teases my lips before delving inside, coaxing my own out of hiding until they’re dancing, tangling and massaging each other with ravenous hunger.

My shock passes quickly, and soon I’m rising up on my toes to meet him, my insides turning to mush as I wrap my arms around his neck, moaning when he pulls his lips from mine and begins carving a ruthless path over my jaw and down the sensitive skin of my throat.

I’m out of breath already, completely invigorated and lost to the world around us. As Sincalir’s talented tongue snakes out to dip into my clavicle, I take the opportunity to nibble his ear lobe. He purrs and a delicious river of heat pours through me. My body is flush against Sinclair’s, and I’ve completely forgotten about the other dancers. I press myself as close to him as possible, trying not to squirm. I’m desperate to get relief for my suddenly aching breasts and the deep pulsing between my legs, but too shy to truly seek it.

Luckily Sinclair doesn’t need to be told, he seems to sense my need effortlessly, and he’s not at all shy about seeking his own desires. He grips my hips in his powerful hands, holding them firmly against his and letting me feel his hardness. He gently undulates our bodies through the dance, rubbing me in all the right places under the pretense of following the sensuous steps.

This isn’t like our other kisses. There are no cameras around, no eager shifters looking on. I’m sure a few of the other wolves present are peeking our way, but everyone is so preoccupied with their own partners that I doubt we have a large audience. If I had the ability to think clearly right now I might wonder why Sinclair is being romantic when we don’t have anyone for whom to put on a show, but that’s all beside the point – because I couldn’t think clearly if my life depended on it.

I’m sure time stops, that the world stops spinning and everything in it ceases to matter except this singular moment between two people – despite the fact that we could not be more different if we tried. Sinclair’s lips are soft as silk, but his affection is rough and merciless, as if he’s trying to sear the feel of his kiss into my bones so that I’ll never forget the way it feels to be in his arms – to be his. I know he’s setting me up for heartbreak in the future – because I won’t forget, I’m sure I’ll never be able to kiss anyone again without remembering this and feeling infinitely disappointed that nothing can ever compare.

It’s also getting carried away very fast, but I can’t seem to find the will to end it. Luckily Sinclair does, pulling back a moment later and looking down at me with a fiery gaze that leaves me tingling from my head all the way down to my toes. It’s a good thing he has more restraint than I do, because I was about ready to rip off both of our clothes despite the cold. I swear I’ve never lost control that way in my entire life, and though part of me is worried about the power Sinclair obviously holds over me, it’s also impossible for me to be too worried when I’m with him. He makes me feel so safe it’s astonishing – and when I finally have the space to clear my head, frightening.

“Why did you do that?” I manage to gasp, still dazed with the aftershocks of his touch.

grin that makes my

flush with color,

find the will to back away from him, and I’m not even a little intimidated when he rumbles with displeasure… at least, that’s how I try to act. In reality his

even though the little voice in the back of my

you?” Sinclair arches a skeptical brow, massaging my nape and studying

looking at me this way is not even an option, the

you?” He smirks,

huff, I glare up at the impossible

realizes I’m

scoff, or laugh in his absurdly handsome face. I think he’s rich and good looking enough to have any woman he wants, and ever since he divorced the tabloids have never once reported him taking the same woman out twice. They haven’t named him a playboy exactly, and I know it isn’t fair to label him this way because he’s obviously a family man – but committing to one’s children

instead I answer, “I think I’m human and your surrogate. You’ve told me a dozen times that your mate will come along eventually and I’ll step down as Luna. Ie we have

that is? Is he taunting me? Dangling the impossible over my head for sport? He doesn’t look like he’s being humorous or attempting a joke, he’s also not wearing the playful expression

isn’t possible, so why ask?” I inquire, feeling

I am.” Sinclair replies, with just enough edge to make