Rescued By The Wolf. Kristal Hollis

between the coffee table and couch. She reached over Rafe to the alarm clock balanced on the top frame of the couch, the LED face flipped so that the time flashed into the cushion instead of into the room.

      In a sudden whirl, she landed flat on her back on top of the couch seat cushions. Rafe’s steely fingers clamped around her wrists, pinning them over her head. She stared into icy, cobalt blue eyes that would’ve stolen her breath if she hadn’t lost all air when he plastered his hard, hot body onto hers.

      The short crop of his auburn hair stuck out in different directions. A pillow crease cut across one high cheekbone and dipped into the reddish stubble dusting his strong jaw. His firm, full lips would look much more kissable if he smiled.

      Squared shoulders rose above a sculpted chest swirled with soft tufts of hair, and a quarter-sized scar marred the taut, tan skin over his right ribs.

      Her gaze slid over the ripples of his abs and the sharp indents of his hips. She couldn’t follow the treasure line that arrowed down from his belly button because he was lodged intimately against her pelvis.

      A giddy heat rushed her body and struck her with the acute awareness of a virile man in his prime.

      “Never sneak up on me, Grace.” Rafe’s laser-intense eyes burned holes straight through her body. “It’s dangerous.”

      No doubt.

      From his deeply etched scowl to his silent, panther-like movements, she needed no further warnings. He was dangerous on all levels.

      “Shut off the damn alarm. My head is pounding and I can barely think.”

      Without shifting his weight off her, he slapped the buttons of the alarm clock and silenced the wailing beep. The echo continued to throb inside Grace’s head. She shut her eyes, willing the pounding to stop and wanting to break the sizzling visual contact with Rafe.

      He didn’t take the hint to move. Instead, his cheek grazed her jaw, his mouth forged a warm, breathy trail to the shell of her ear, and he gently nosed the dimple behind her ear. “God, you smell good.”

      Her own senses drowned in his scent—clean, earthy, and deliciously male. Instinctively, her hips arched against his groin. Deep inside, her muscles clenched and a slow swirl centered low in her belly. “Hey, Wyatt. This isn’t what I meant when I said I wanted to get to know you at Brice’s party.”

      Yeah? Who was she kidding?

      Since her hands were still pinned above her head, her hips were plastered against his, and any perpendicular movement might’ve further compromised their position, Grace nipped his ear.

      Rafe moved so quickly it took her a few blinks before her body registered the loss of his heat. She sat up, her arms folding across her chest to hold in the warmth.

      “Get your stuff and I’ll drive you to the resort.” He bent over to snatch up the sheet that had fallen to the floor.

      Don’t look at his ass. No, don’t.

      Her eyes didn’t listen and her body rejoiced at the vision of the tightest, most perfectly shaped butt she’d ever seen. She’d bet the house that she could bounce a quarter to the ceiling off that ass.

      Rafe snapped the sheet in the air, folded it precisely in half, matched all the edges and meticulously repeated the action until he’d formed a perfect square that he tucked in a dresser drawer. He turned to Grace.

      Front side, back side, all sides in between—God, he was beautiful. Not in a GQ cover sort of way. The rugged angles and planes of his face gave him a less cultured, rawer sexual appeal.

      Frowning as he was, he looked downright lethal and sexy, and so not amused with the smile she offered.

      “When a man is naked in his bedroom, there are only two things he wants.” Rafe’s glacial eyes would’ve turned Grace’s breath frosty if she could actually breathe. “Sleep and sex.”

      “Technically,” she said, finding her voice, relieved it didn’t squeak. “We’re in your living room. The bedroom’s over there.” Tipping her head toward the Murphy bed less than ten feet away, she stood. “Are you suggesting we change locations?”

      Rafe’s breath audibly stuck in his throat. He stared at the rumpled bed and swallowed hard. His gaze jumped to her, his eyes wide and uncertain.

      “Considering you don’t like me, we won’t need the bed for sex and I’ve had enough sleep.”

      “I never said I didn’t like you.” The low, gravelly rasp in his voice caused tiny bumps to pebble her skin.

      “So, you like me but don’t want to be friends?” Grace padded around the coffee table to stand directly in front of him. His silent breaths were as hard and fast as her staccato heartbeat. “Not seeing the logic there.”

      “You’re not the type of friend I need.”

      “Too bad. I come with fantastic benefits.” She poked him dead center in the chest. “Get dressed. I have things to do today, and you’re not on the list.”

       Chapter 4

      Testosterone and a slew of wolfan hormones stormed Rafe’s veins. Burning up all his restraint, Rafe stood perfectly still as Grace moved lithely out of the room with her hips sashaying in an erotic sway that beckoned both the man and wolf.

      God, she was pretty. Long, shiny hair the color of corn silk. Bright green eyes that put polished emeralds to shame. Soft golden skin and an athletic body with just the right amount of curve. None of which he should’ve noticed. And yet, he had, and more.

      She had a ready smile and a kind heart toward people and animals. He liked her spunk, more than he should.

      And she smelled really good, too.

      Another time, another place. Another life. She could’ve been the one.

      But, he’d had a true mate, bonded heart and soul, and he’d lost her.

      He wasn’t arrogant enough to believe it could happen twice. Besides, he wasn’t compatible with a human female.

      Unlike Brice, whose grandmother was human, Rafe came from a purebred line. He’d inherited no human traits. Any he had were learned from Doc.

      Since childhood, Rafe wanted to do right by the man who raised him. He’d modeled Doc’s manner, his style, his philosophies. He might have followed his father’s career path if he could’ve overcome his aversion to hospitals.

      He hated the gut-churning scents that permeated the air. Fear, sorrow, sickness, desperation and death.

      Grace’s human senses weren’t developed enough for her to detect the smells as acutely as he could, but she seemed to dislike hospitals as much as he did. Last night, he couldn’t, in good conscience, leave her there overnight when she clearly didn’t want to be there.

      When he’d brought her home, he’d expected her to drill him about his abrupt decline of her offer of friendship a few months ago. Instead, she was gracious, respectful and annoyingly considerate.

      She’d even gifted him with genuine smiles as if he’d never hurt her feelings that day. He knew he had.

      But, he’d done what was necessary, pushing her away. Establishing a boundary. For her safety and his well-being.

      Only she still ended up hurt and he was still drawn to her in ways that defied reason.

      He needed to reinforce the no-friend zone and stay the hell out of her way.

      Rafe pinched his sore ear, then drew back his hand and stared at the tiny drop of blood smeared on his thumb pad.

      His stomach rolled.

      Ah, hell!

      Grace had not claimed him.

      One,