Desired by the Pack: Part One: A BBW Paranormal Romance Read Online Free PDF Page A

up front.
    Her lips pinched into a pained line and she dropped her head back. She screwed her eyes so tight, her forehead creased.
    It was her hands that decided him. The way she ground her fingers into her thighs, she was so far gone, he might not have the luxury of selfishness. If he needed Cross to help him bring her back down, the front seat would be easiest.
    “Hey.” He reached over the seat and touched her cheek. Her eyes flew open, unfocused and glassy. In the dark cab, he couldn’t make out the color of her irises but he remembered the soft, stormy shade of blue. She blinked and her lips parted as she centered on him.
    He was a shit for ignoring her need so long. Stroking his thumb across the corner of her lips, he said, “Undo that belt and come up here. Leave your jeans back there.”
    Trying to undress her around the gear shift would be a delay she didn’t look like she could afford.
    “Her name’s Jan,” Cross supplied, a low mutter.
    Beck knew her name. He’d gotten that much out of her eight years ago.
    “January,” she said, correcting Cross. The belt slid home with a thunk. She rolled onto her hip, already peeling the curve-hugging denim down her shapely thighs.
    “Winter-wolf,” Beck murmured, enthralled by the smooth skin she brought into view. He caught a glimpse of black lace panties before she pushed them off, then nothing but smooth skin and a dark triangle at the apex of her thighs.
    Her head jerked up. She dropped a boot on the floor. “No wolf.”
    That set him back. He had to have misheard. Females--even Blood females--didn’t go into Heat the way shifting women did.
    But she stood and threw her leg over the seat and the perfume of her arousal exploded in the cab. Cross groaned out loud. The truck swerved and January tumbled over, smacking Beck’s chin with the top of her head.
    “Cross,” Beck growled.
    His lieutenant’s laugh was strained. “She’s a little bit of a distraction.”
    “Sure is.” Beck righted the soft, hot tangle of woman and Cross brought the truck back on course.
    Someone thumped on the back window. January jerked her head up as Beck sat her astride his legs.
    “It’s the angry one,” she murmured, with a tilt of her head that was more intrigued than put off.
    “Anders.” Cross checked the rearview. “He wants to know what’s going on.”
    “I know what he wants.” The whole pack was clamoring around in his head, more noise than Beck wanted to concentrate on filtering out. The only person he wanted to communicate with knelt astride his legs, large, sugar-scented breasts right in his face, begging for his mouth.
    He threw up a mental barrier so he could focus on the curves displayed for his pleasure.
    Her pleasure, he corrected. For a wolf in Heat, sex couldn’t be for anybody but her.
    Still, he couldn’t resist skimming his palms over her naked thighs. Unlike many werewolf females, who ran far and wild for the joy of it and had long, lean muscles as a result, January’s thighs were soft like the rest of her.
    He squeezed the yielding flesh of her hips and looked up past her  breasts to catch her eyes.
    “Give Cross your address while you can still talk, winter-wolf.”
    And while Beck still possessed the willpower to see her home instead of spiriting her off to his den the way his wolf demanded.
    “No wolf.” She recited the route and house numbers to Cross.
    While Cross dealt with the GPS, Beck memorized the address. He had no intention of losing her twice.
    Above him, January groaned and rocked against him. Beck allowed himself one last sweep of her silky, shapely legs. At her ankle, a sharp corner jabbed his palm.
    Plucking the foil packet from the top of her sock, he held it up between them. “You want this?”
    “I don’t want a disease.” She drew a breath and closed her eyes, obviously wrestling with something.
    Beck raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to decide. Werewolves didn’t catch STDs, maybe because of genetics, maybe