Millie led him deeper into the woods, carrying on an in-depth discussion of the various types of wolves housed here, the strength of the pens, the quality of care. Ulrich heard her words as if she stood at the bottom of a deep well and he at the top, as though her voice surrounded him but the language, the meaning of what she said, remained a mystery.
He felt the sound of her voice, a vibration akin to fingers tapping out a tune on the low notes of a piano. Musical, with a slight drawl borne of the country and life among men. There was nothing overtly feminine about her, yet she screamed female with every step, every word. Screamed it loud enough that his cock now fought the confines of the denim jeans he wore, trapped as it was along his left inner thigh.
He wanted to shift. Wanted to run beside her and howl his need, take her hard and fast in the dark woods, his teeth nipping at her shoulder, his nails scraping her fur-covered shoulders.
Except he didn’t know. Couldn’t really tell if it was the scent of the wolf in Millie or his own frustration. The proximity of so many caged wolves confused him. Did the alluring perfume his sensitive nostrils caught really come from the woman? Maybe it was his own wishful thinking, the hope that he would some day, once again, find a mate to ease the aching loneliness he’d lived with since Camille’s death.
There’d been women. Lots of women, and just as many men. No Chanku was capable of celibacy. Not with a libido as powerful as theirs, needs so strong. Needs…had his life always been one of needs?
The sound of their boots tramping along the edge of the service road was muffled in new grass and rain-dampened earth. Millie talked with her hands emphasizing each word as she explained the habits of the various wolves in each fenced compound they passed.
Ulrich smiled, watching her fingers, hearing her voice, feeling something unravel deep inside himself. He tried to ask questions apropos to Millie’s comments, but knew he’d failed miserably when she turned around with her hands planted firmly on her hips, and burst into laughter.
“You’re not listening to a word I’m saying, are you?”
“Excuse me?” He felt his cheeks grow hot and knew he was blushing. “Of course I am.”
“Then what did I just tell you about the pack in that compound?” She pointed toward a heavy chain-link fence where three unusually small wolves waited in the shadows.
“You said…um…” He did the one thing he hoped would save his sorry ass. Ulrich grinned and held his hands out in surrender. “I don’t know. I’m sorry. What did you say?”
Millie didn’t appear to take offense. “That our breeding program appears successful. These are Ethiopian wolves, one of the rarest lupine species. The bitch is pregnant. They’re part of our rescue program. There’s been a rabies outbreak among Ethiopian wolves in the wild and we’re hoping to keep the species alive through programs like ours.”
“I thought they looked smaller than the timber wolves. They’re more like coyotes.”
Millie laughed. “Don’t let them hear you say that! They’d be highly insulted.” She glanced at her watch. “I had no idea how long I’ve been dragging you around.” When she looked up at Ulrich and smiled, he felt her warmth. “It’s almost one.”
“No wonder I’m starving.” As if on cue, Ulrich’s stomach growled. “Is there a town nearby where I can find a sandwich?”
“The nearest town is at least a half hour’s drive up the road.” She stared at him for a long heartbeat, then appeared to come to a decision. “Why don’t you just come with me and I’ll fix something for both of us. I live just over the hill.”
Her gaze lingered on him a moment longer. A dark stain spread over her high cheekbones, and then Millie turned away and started back down the road the way they’d come. Her back was ramrod straight and Ulrich wished he could see into her mind. Obviously something about her casual invitation upset her.
“If it’s not too much trouble,” Ulrich said, but inside, he was singing. Her scent rose to meet him, luring him forward, and there was no confusion now between her and the wolves.
Millie West was every bit as aroused as Ulrich.
Why now? She was an old woman, for crying out loud. Much too old to feel this amazing attraction to a man, though Ulrich Mason was, without any doubt, the sexiest male she’d ever seen. His interest in her was almost palpable, and when she’d turned around and actually looked at him, it had taken all her willpower not to stare at the sizeable bulge running down the inside seam of his left pants leg.
He must be hung like a bull and he was obviously hard as a post. Hard for her? She’d laugh if it wasn’t so pathetic. Here she was, old enough to get a senior citizen discount in most places and, unless she counted the well-used collection of vibrators in the table beside her bed, she’d not had sex since 1970.
Tell that to your pussy.
Damn. She was so wet she prayed the dampness between her legs wouldn’t leak through her jeans. How embarrassing would that be? The denim rubbed her swollen clit through her sopping panties with every step she took, and her breasts felt unusually restrained within her plain cotton bra. She wondered if the batteries in the new vibrator she’d ordered online were fresh, and almost laughed aloud.
What kind of woman took a gorgeous stranger home with her and worried about batteries?
A woman who’d learned her lesson the hard way.
That excuse didn’t work anymore. She was fifty-six years old and pregnancy wasn’t even an option, much less a worry. So what if she wanted sex with a man?
More important, what if he wanted sex with her?
She felt a low throb in the pit of her belly and took a deep breath. Her libido had caused trouble all her life—it was something her fanatically religious uncle had tried unsuccessfully to beat out of her.
She still remembered the spankings that had lasted well into her teen years, spankings requiring her bare bottom and the flat of her uncle’s broad hand. By the time she was twelve or thirteen, she’d realized the punishment had taken on an overtly sexual tone, something that disgusted her even now.
For all his prayers and rules, her uncle had taken perverse pleasure in punishing her. She hadn’t understood everything that was going on, but she’d known it was wrong. In their rural community, though, where his family name was among the first settlers, she’d had no one to turn to.
Thank goodness there’d always been the wolves. Why they fascinated her so, Millie would never know, but she’d sensed a link between herself and the animals long before the sanctuary had grown so large, long before the property that had been her only home had become the property of the High Mountain nonprofit organization. She’d been alone, except for the wolves.
There’d been one man. One sexy, long-legged, itinerant cowboy. He’d not lingered time enough for her to fall in love with him, but he’d certainly managed to change her life.
She wouldn’t think about that now. Couldn’t. Not with Ulrich Mason walking silently behind her, his big body still straight and strong in spite of his snow-white hair. He was a handsome man, ageless in the way of the very fit, with amazing eyes. Dark gold. No, she thought. Amber. Similar to her own, but where her eyes were nothing special, his sparkled with an inner fire.
She wished she’d known him when he was young.
Wished she’d met him when she was younger, but it was too late for regrets. She slowed her pace at the top of a small rise. The sanctuary and offices lay to her right, but she took the trail to the left. It followed a narrow creek that gurgled and raced beside them.
“You live close enough to walk to work?” His voice was just over her shoulder. His nearness startled her so that she stopped and turned to reply.
“Every morning. It’s a challenge