Anita cries out into the kiss. The scent of wolf -- of his wolf -- and she buries herself in that. She kisses him as if she will devour him through his mouth, and this time, she doesn't fight the ardeur when it rises. Anita allows it to rise up, to consume her and reach out to draw Richard in.

Her hands yank impatiently at his jeans as she keeps kissing him, growling softly as the fear recedes a little in the face of the lust.