Read Clawed: Wild Things, Book 3 for Free Online Page B

a willing prisoner against his brick wall of a body. She mewed, grateful for his touch, and matched his passion with her own. He swirled his tongue in her mouth, drinking her in as she prayed he would drink in another part of her. She wrapped her arms as far as they could go around his wide back, digging her nails into him, marking him, claiming him the only way she knew how.
    Making a sound that was more animal than human, he carried her into the stream. Water splashed on her feet, then on her legs until at last they stood waist deep in the chilly torrent. With a growl, he broke their kiss and silently searched her once more. His eyes, speaking more than words ever could, challenged her to take the temptation he offered. She accepted the challenge and he pulled her with him to sink under the water.

Chapter Three
    Chloe cried out as the orgasm raked through her, her body jerking in wave after wave of release. She trembled, perspiration wetting her hairline even as her breathing slowly returned to normal. Eyes wide, she yanked her hand away from her crotch and searched the small enclosure for her fantasy lover. But her tent was as empty as when she’d entered it. If imagining him made her feel this way, what would having sex with the real man do to her?
    “Chloe, are you okay?”
    She sat up, color flaming her cheeks, and thanked her lucky stars that she’d brought two tents. “Yeah, I’m fine. I, uh, I guess I had a bad dream.”
    “Sounded like a good dream, if you ask me.”
    “Shh, Billy.”
    Nina’s chuckle didn’t help Chloe’s embarrassment. She covered her face with her hands and wondered how desperate she must sound to her friend and her…what? Her one-night stand? Her new lover? With Nina, who knew?
    “You are so bad, Billy.”
    “But good, too, right?”
    More laughter followed and the light came on again in the other tent. Chloe glanced at the shadows playing on the nylon, then abruptly turned her head. No wonder she’d gone overboard. How could she not after watching them? She needed to go to sleep and ignore the sexual playtime in the next tent.
    Sleep, however, eluded her until she finally gave up and decided to draw. Careful to be as quiet as possible, she gathered her pencil and sketchpad and sat on the log by the glowing campfire embers. The lantern gave her just enough light to see, and she once again began to sketch the sexy man of the stream.
    She let out a breath, grateful to have the tension flow out of her, and let her art become, as it always had, her refuge, her passion and her way to relax all rolled into one. Losing herself in the world on the paper, she attempted to capture the beauty of nature without the cruel reality often lying just under the surface. She soon forgot everything and everyone else as her picture took shape.
    Perhaps it was because she drew by the light of the lantern and the flickering glow of the embers that her work took on a life of its own, becoming more than a drawing. She could almost feel the warmth emanating from the paper, could almost touch the texture of skin, hair and fur. The picture had a heartbeat of its own, bringing her inside it, taking her to where the figure was, away from the campsite to a place she hadn’t known existed. And unlike the drawing that had been torn from her sketchpad, this time she drew an image of two figures, one man and the other animal, their bodies intertwined into one.
    She had no idea how long she drew and it didn’t matter. The changing light had no effect on her. In fact, she found the early morning rays filtering through an overcast sky a welcome addition to her work as though the new day added another dimension to her subject. Sighing, she ignored the first pangs of hunger and continued to draw. She concentrated on the figure, not caring about a background. The sketch was not only about the man-beast, but somehow, for the man-beast.
    Vaguely she responded to Nina and Billy when they finally emerged, hand in hand, from