Of all the stupid, jackassed things he could do, he kissed her. Hard and deep, as if he could swallow her whole, which he gladly would have done if it would keep her safe. River was furious with her and he'd meant the question he'd asked and given her no time to answer. Damn it to hell, what was she thinking? When he'd seen her walking up the middle of the road without a care in the world, like she was taking a Sunday afternoon stroll, for crissake, his wolf went wild. As if that wasn't bad enough, when she saw the wolf ahead of her, she waved. Instead of turning around and running for her life, she called out and fucking waved! He should be up in her face, screaming instead of deep throating her with his tongue. His hands ran over her body, face, hair, back, and down to her ass. He ripped the shirt from her pants in his need to feel her skin. His hands needed to touch her everywhere. Everywhere. He wanted his scent on her. He wanted to mark her as his, inside and out. He wanted to send a message to any wolver who looked her way.
