Howling Mad: A paranormal wolf shifter romance (Badlands Book 2) Read Online Free PDF

Byron moved up her body, lingering for a few moments to slide his hands over her breasts and taste her erect nipple with closed eyes, lashes downswept over his cheeks. Her lips were parted as she fought for breath and every nerve was still singing as he nestled between her open thighs. He wrapped his hand around his thick erection, rubbing firmly against her and using her sticky juices to lubricate his length.
    She gripped his hips, urging him inside her, and he obliged, pushing into her with a steady, confident pressure. She groaned – a hoarse, wild sound she barely recognized as her own voice – and with an answering growl he started to thrust in and out of her tight, wet heat.
    She clutched his muscular ass, digging her fingers into his glutes as they flexed with each smooth, hard thrust of his hips. The muscles in his arms bunched and relaxed as he held himself above her, working himself in and out of her body until she was gasping on the edge of orgasm.
    His breathing was labored, his skin sheened with sweat as he held back his own pleasure, beautiful face set in hard lines of concentration and restraint. And then, as she tumbled into a rolling climax that built in waves of overlapping bliss, he lost control. He thrust helplessly as he came, groaning against her sweat-slick skin as he pulsed inside her.

Chapter Seven
     
    Byron’s hair was shorn into a choppy crop. He kept running his hands through it, unused to the short length, which made it stand on end in all directions. It was oddly endearing. And as beautiful as his long hair had been, framing his face and curling against his collarbone, the new haircut suited him. It drew attention to the sharp angles of his cheekbones and the amused, sensual tilt of his lips. Without his long hair softening his features, his pale eyes stood out even more in his face, framed by those dark lashes. He looked starkly beautiful and dangerous, like a bad angel.
    She caught herself staring and looked away.
    The motel bathroom was just as run-down and dingy as Naomi had expected – offcuts of linoleum on the floor, chipped porcelain, rust marks in the tub. The single towel, wrapped around her and barely covering her, was worn so thin she could have read a newspaper through it. Not that she’d want to, when there’d probably be a picture of her right underneath the headline.
    Especially if anyone saw this. The towel, the linoleum, the tiles and the tub were streaked and smeared with red hair dye. Her hands were covered with red hair dye. Byron has smears of crimson on his chest and arms. It looked like the scene of a very messy murder.
    She touched her hair, which she’d rinsed thoroughly, squeezed dry and knotted on the top of her head.
    “Do you really think it’ll work? I mean, all I’ve done is change the color of my hair. I don’t think Jimmy would feel threatened by my uncanny chameleon-like powers of disguise.”
    The dye splashed and smeared all over the bathroom reminded her of an art therapy session with the difficult teen, when they’d been messing around with poster paints. He’d played invisibly around the room leaving an indigo handprint there and a vivid smear of crimson there – even dotting the end of Naomi’s nose with blue paint – until they’d both been giggling helplessly and he’d finally agreed to come out of hiding. She’d felt she was making real progress with him. That had been only a few days ago. How had she ended up here, on the run with a wild Alpha wolf?
    Byron stripped off the flimsy plastic gloves that had come with the box of hair dye and balled them up. “Trust me. Most people make terrible eye witnesses. They’ll be looking for a guy in an orange jumpsuit and a girl with dark hair, and when we don’t fit that description, they’ll look right past us.”
    She decided not to think about how he knew that, just sudsed up a sponge and knelt to tackle the stains on the floor around the tub. “Even so, we’d better clean this up.