But she didn’t want her next relationship to be like her last one. She needed emotional support for the last disastrous relationship, not a commitment to someone new. She thought Guthrie knew that too. He’d been pulling away from her in an attempt to keep things on a more even keel, not having unconsummated sex on the sofa around the fire pit again.

So, this didn’t mean a whole lot of anything. Just an alpha male wanting to get close and personal. Nothing that screamed—I want you for an eternity—as in a wolf mating.

If her experience with Baird had taught her one thing, it was that a male wolf would do anything to mate, and she wanted to make sure she was settling down with the right one this time. She-wolves who were born to lupus garous were fewer in number, so she had to remind herself that she was a precious commodity. She laughed at herself over that.

She’d never been popular among humans when she was younger. It had something to do with growling at them when they angered her, or wanting to bite one guy who had started seeing someone behind her back. That was one good thing about being a wolf—she had smelled the other woman on him. Biting him had not been an option. No way had she wanted to turn the jerk and have him as her responsibility.

She hadn’t been around her wolf kind all that much. The few she had known were either mated, just friends, or hadn’t appealed in the least.

So she was going to just enjoy this with Guthrie—the way he held her close, moving to the music nice and easy, their bodies melded together—as a fun way to get back into the swing of dating.

He kissed the top of her head, and she felt the pang of wanting something further and tried to ignore it. Just this, nothing more. Not kissing again, tasting his sugary tongue and hot, sexy mouth like when they’d kissed beneath the toppled Christmas tree. Not breathing in that musky scent that said he wanted to go beyond where they should go. That feeling was only natural—given the way they were holding each other close and rubbing their bodies together. She attempted to ignore the feel of his growing arousal pressed against her.

She shouldn’t have looked up at him to see if he wanted more.

He wore the most devilish smirk as he looked down at her—as if saying he knew she wanted to go further. That she couldn’t hold out forever.

She smiled a little at him, giving him the go-ahead. Just plain sexy fun, she thought. And he leaned down to kiss her. His lips didn’t start with anything soft—just like he hadn’t started the dance by keeping a distance between them and then slowly moving in closer to her. He seemed hungry for the kiss, like he was starved for affection. She shouldn’t have, but she soaked in the heat and hotness of his kiss, growling a little with satisfaction.

When he heard her growl softly, he didn’t smile, but plunged his tongue into her mouth, as if her need screamed to be met and he had to satisfy his own rampant urges.

His tongue stroking hers garnered nearly all of her attention, except for the way he rubbed against her, his soft leather kilt unable to hide the swell of his erection as he slid it against her velvet-covered belly. Her nipples were already hard with the way she was pressed against his firm chest. Her insides seemed to liquefy—melting to his practiced touch.

After seeing all the women in costumes that barely covered their knickers, she had wondered if she should have worn less, rather than more. But Guthrie seemed to love having all her velvety softness in his grasp, and she loved feeling hot and sexy in his arms. She didn’t need to dress scantily to entice the wolf.

His clean, male, musky wolf scent intoxicated her. His large hands stroked her velvet-covered buttocks as if he couldn’t get enough of touching her…or the gown. So wrapped up in him, she no longer heard the music playing—or if the waltz had ended and changed to something else. Or saw if anyone else was in the great hall. Or smelled anyone nearby. Guthrie filled all her senses.

His tongue licked the seam of her mouth again, seeking entrance. And she let him in again, knowing they should stop this public display of affection in case anyone was watching, but she didn’t want to. His tongue stroked the inside of her mouth and her tongue—powerful, overwhelming, eager. She was so wet. So ready for him, if they had intended to take it that far.

At that point, she wanted to go home with him. What had happened to keeping this light and amicable and not so hot and heavy?

She pulled away from him to catch her breath, her heartbeat drumming hard, her breathing labored. Okay, so Baird had never made her nearly come with his kisses, but she thought it prudent to put some space between herself and Guthrie, to get to know some other wolves…first. Before she got too involved and said I will again. It wasn’t that Guthrie wasn’t right for her—as far as she knew—but that she’d made such a mistake with Baird, thinking the same thing.

Besides, she knew she was vulnerable, a natural aspect of loving someone and having to end the relationship. With Baird continuing to harass her, she couldn’t completely let go of that situation, either.

“Are you all right?” Guthrie asked, and she realized, damn it, that her eyes were filled with tears.

See? Calla chastised herself. This was the problem. She had loved Baird, even now that she knew he probably hadn’t loved her. But she couldn’t help feeling the aftereffects of the disastrous end to an almost marriage and mating.

“Aye, aye.”

“Did you want to get something to drink?”

“You’re not trying to get out of dancing, are you?” she asked with a smile.