Beauty and the Wolf by Marina Myles

shirt.
    Isabella ran a finger down her neck, lower and lower inside the fabric of her dress, until her hand rested at the rise of her breast. Draven stared at her. It was his turn to wet his lips. They locked eyes and he reached over to take the daffodil from her hand. Her heart sped.
    Securing the flower behind her ear, he bent over her as she leaned back on her elbows. “You’re very beautiful, Isabella. A beacon of goodness in my eyes.”
    Her soul stirred at the compliment.
    “And you could be a wonderful husband, if you’d try,” she murmured.
    “Do you know what I think?” His voice purred with eroticism.
    “What?”
    “I think you are as aroused as I am.” His fingers stroked her arm before they reached the nape of her neck.
    Will he kiss me?
    Draven’s stare shifted from her eyes to her mouth. Cupping the back of her head, he bent forward and seared her lips with a slow, scorching kiss. Isabella’s heart thudded like a caged animal’s. As sensual energy roared through her, she let out a moan.
    She never suspected seducing Draven would bring her so much pleasure.
    He gathered her to him with urgency. His tongue plunged its way past her lips while her body shuddered. Swelling against him until the sensitive tips of her bosom heaved against his open shirt, Isabella longed to feel his hand at her breasts. Fondling them. Kneading them. And she wanted to feel his hard, smooth body intertwined with hers.
    Draven forced her head closer with a firm yank. The fervor between them escalated as he bore her down and shifted his weight on top of her. His fingers sought her tangled hair while he devoured her neck and throat with his lips. He traced her leaping pulse with the tip of his tongue and Isabella’s eyes fluttered shut. She wanted him to do much more than kiss her.
    As if he had read her thoughts, Draven ran his hand along her bodice until it reached the mound of her breast. With the ease of an expert, he found its nub through the fabric and tweaked it until she groaned with ecstasy.
    He gave her another hard kiss and she could feel his shaft grow monstrously erect against her leg. As he bunched up the fabric of her dress, his breathing came in ragged spurts. He slid a hand up her thigh. Hot and completely aroused, Isabella sucked in a sharp breath. Her folds flooded with moisture in anticipation of his fingers reaching her center.
    Like a silent thief, Draven’s fingers stole inside her pantalets and combed her soft curls. Carefully but very firmly, he located her damp petals. As he captured her mouth, his fingertips caressed the sensitive skin of her flanges and while his hand moved in tighter circles toward her center, she spread her legs so that he could delve a finger inside her.
    At the feel of it, Isabella swore she could see the gates of heaven. “Oh, Draven—”
    Draven’s hard prick continued to press against her leg but at that moment, his mouth turned cruel. He extracted his finger only to grope her breasts in a painful grip.
    “My Bella—” he murmured gruffly. “My beauty.”
    She commanded her inner voice to be quiet and enjoy the moment. If she didn’t stop him, perhaps they would make love here under the cloudless sky. It’s what she wanted. Yet Draven’s frenzied actions reminded her of his rough behavior on their wedding night.
    He continued on in impatient motions but she recoiled. Panic seized Isabella. She tried to jerk her head away from the crush of his mouth but he wouldn’t let her. Grunting, he yanked her chin back in his direction and bit down on her lip. She screamed and slapped his face. He rolled off of her while she sat up and put her fingers to the bleeding wound.
    Draven’s eyes widened at the sight of her blood. “Christ—”
    “How could you?” she screeched.
    He clutched her hand, blood and all, and brought it to his nose. His body began to tremble while his eyes flashed an unnatural shade of red—as they had on their wedding night.
    Isabella bolted to her