Boyett-Compo, Charlotte - WesternWind 01 - Wynd River Read Online Free PDF Page A

burst forth. “How about my claws?”
    Aingeal stared wide-eyed at the hand he raised in front of her face, her lips parting as five very lethal
    looking claws shot from the tips of his fingers to curve downward toward her nose. “Damn,” she said,
    but the word was one of amazement instead of the fear he had intended. She looked into his eyes. “No
    wonder you guys are so feared. Bet you could open a can of beans with those in a heartbeat, huh?”
    The Reaper groaned with frustration, re-sheathed his claws and retracted his fangs. He was pressed
    tightly to the female—his lower body grinding into hers—and he wanted nothing more than to slant his
    mouth across hers and taste the sweetness of her breath that was fanning the hairs at the base of his
    throat. She was gazing up at him with a look unlike anything any other human had ever bestowed upon
    him, and he was fast losing himself in her pretty gray gaze.
    “Are you going to bite me?” she whispered.
    He almost winced when he asked, “Do you want me to?”
    “Will it turn me?” she asked, her hand caressing his hard chest.
    Cynyr still had hold of her left wrist, keenly aware that he had dragged her arm around his waist and was
    holding it behind him. He was staring down into her face, his gaze wandering over high cheekbones, long,
    spiky eyelashes and a pert little nose that tended to wrinkle when she spoke.
    “You clean up nicely,” he heard himself say.
    “Will it turn me if you bite me?” she repeated, her lower lip tucked between her teeth.
    He shook his head. “It takes a hell of a lot more than that, wench.”
    Aingeal’s thumb had slipped past the gap between a button on his shirt and the front placket and was
    rubbing lightly at his chest hair. She smelled of his soap and wet hair.
    He lifted his hand and took a long strand of her damp hair between his fingers, studying it. The feel of it
    pleased him and he wound it around his middle finger.
    “Are you sure Reapers don’t mate?” she asked breathlessly.
    His eyes leapt back to hers. “Do you have any idea what it is you’re asking?” he questioned.
    She shrugged, and he could feel the tips of her breasts boring into his chest. “No one should have to go
    through this life alone, Cyn,” she said. “Not even a Reaper.”
    “Reapers are killers, wench,” he said. “They maim and destroy and—”
    She brought her hand up his chest and laid the tips of her fingers across his lips, silencing him. “They are
    also defenders. They protect and guard and—”
    He would later wonder if it had been the gentleness of her words—the fact she seemed unafraid of
    him—or the hot glow in her eyes that made him swoop down to claim her lips. He ached to taste her and
    as his tongue invaded her mouth, he felt his shaft harden so tightly it nearly buckled his legs.
    And Cynyr Cree was lost.
    Aingeal’s left hand was clutched in the back of his shirt as he held her wrist to him. She could feel the
    play of his muscles as he strained against her and the rock-hard rod pushing into her belly brought waves
    of desire shimmering through her. Her other hand was trapped between them—her fingers at the hollow
    of his throat—and she could feel the thunder of his pounding heart as he kissed her. His tongue was
    dueling with hers and his teeth nipped lightly at her upper lip when he pulled away.
    “This is wrong, wench,” he said, his lips trailing kisses over her chin and cheeks.
    “Who said so?” she countered, kissing him right back. She flicked out her tongue to taste the texture of
    his upper lip and his instant groan made moistness ooze from her core.
    Cynyr was not a novice to sex but the only times he had known such fulfillment had been in the mouths
    of whores he’d paid to relieve him. He knew better than to mate with one of the willing women, for once
    a Reaper mated, he mated for life, and very few allowed themselves such a luxury. Giving in to the desire
    to protect a woman, to care for