When her uncle left her in the dust of Loving, Texas, Honey Carrington survived by keeping house at the Moonlight Hotel, all the while dreaming of marrying a respectable rancher. But dangerous is the only word for tall, dark and handsomeTexas Ranger, Brett Masters. She's drawn by the velvet caress of his voice, but becomes suspicious of his admiring appraisal of her when he warns his friends she belongs to him.
With a risky job like Brett's, and still on the hunt for rogue werewolves who killed his parents, he figures love can only leave a widow. Leader of the wolf pack, he never expected to find his mate, until he met Honey.
Now he must prove in front of witnesses, according to the pack law love ritual, that she belongs to him. When her life is threatened, he must protect her at all cost from the last of the rogue werewolves. But can he?
"Don't show them fear," he whispered. Masters' hands brought her snug against him, so the two of them faced the others with her backside firmly against the front of him—and pressed into his arousal.
His soft breath heated the side of her neck beneath her ear. "I won't hurt you," he whispered, making her shudder. "Nod once if you're a virgin."
Her breath stopped. She stared at the men across the room and nodded.
"Pretend you're my lady and you're in heaven," he continued, his breath wafting over her chilled skin.
Heaven? At the moment she believed she'd fallen into purgatory and hell was soon to follow. If he took her virginity, she'd shame the rancher she dreamed of marrying someday. She'd never find the happy home she yearned for.
"Close your eyes, honey," he ordered, his voice clipped, as he smoothed his hands upward from her waist. "Pretend."
She snapped her eyes closed. Did he know her name, or was 'honey' what he called every woman? His large hands cupped her breasts and she gasped at the sensation. Her whole body shook and she didn't know if her legs would hold her. What was he going to do to her?
"Heaven," he said, his low voice and hot breath in her ear.
She dared to hope she'd come out of this still a virgin and complied. Remembering how those loose women moaned with pleasure, she dropped her head back against his chest and moaned, not sure, in her experience, how convincing it sounded. The soft touch of his fingers brushing over her nipples brought heat to her face and sent a surging ache to her private parts.
Surely it's wanton to respond to this man's caress.
Her dreams for the future went up in flames just as her body burned from his touch. He kneaded her breasts and his arousal pressed along the crease of her buttocks. "Oh, God," she cried, every nerve tingling with incredible sensations.
"It's all right," he said softly. One of his hands left her breast and glided over her ribs and waist.
When his fingers stroked over her belly and down between her thighs, her muscles tensed. What's he doing?
"Heaven, honey. Don't forget," he murmured, his warm breath tantalizing the place beneath her ear, making her pant.
Licking her dry lips with the tip of her tongue, she writhed from the tension he created. How long must she suffer the tormenting touches from this handsome man that made her body burn? Touches only a husband should be allowed.