“You’re welcome,” I said, trying not to pull down my shirt or cross my arms. I watched as Luke took off his boots and shrugged off his jacket. He shot me a bemused look, and I looked down, examining the counter. “You, um, well, night.”
“Hey, wait,” Luke said and beckoned me over. He was wearing his typical gear, a tight black shirt that showed off his muscles and camo pants. “I’ve barely seen you the last few days.”
“And here I was beginning to think you’d forgotten what I looked like,” I said.
Luke’s arm snaked around my waist, and a growl reverberated through him. “Impossible.” My knees went watery. “You’re all I’ve been thinkin’ about, Rea, like a burr stuck in the brain.”
“Poor man, sounds painful,” I gasped, when he lifted me off the floor. “I was kidding.”
“I wasn’t,” Luke said, and I wrapped my arms around his neck to steady myself. My feet kicked up as his other arm slid beneath my ass, propping me up. “Good thing I’ve got the cure.”
“Wow, you corny—”
Luke cut me off with a kiss. A delicious, demanding kiss.
I melted against him, warming him up and overheating, for my part. A deep ache flared inside of me, one that had been simmering for days. Now, with the way his lips claimed mine, I held on more tightly, toes curling and brain stem numb.
“I could do that all night,” Luke murmured when we broke apart.
“Prove it,” I teased.
Gently, Luke set me down and then trapped me against the counter, his body pressing into mine. “What,” he asked, his voice warm and brushing against my ear, “did I tell you about flirtin’ with fire?” I arched as he pressed a kiss to the side of my jaw. “I’m tryin’ to be a damn gentleman.”
“Northbane honor,” I said. “Right.”
“Somethin’ like that,” Luke grumbled and kissed my cheek. “Go to bed.”
“Night,” I said and left him in the kitchen.
But when my eyes landed on the stairs, I glanced over my shoulder and bit my lip. Impulse urged me up to the second floor, and, heart pounding, I followed it. Laughing to myself, I snuck into his room and sat on the bed. Giddy from those kisses, I grabbed a pillow and snuggled against it.
My entire body was humming in anticipation. At first.
But, as I lay there, I started to reassess this idea. I mean, there was a good chance that Luke would think I was insane. I sat up. Wait, what was I doing? This wasn’t mature or respectful.
This was insane.
God, I’d turned into some kind of teenage, hormone-driven stalker.
I went to get out of bed when I heard Luke coming down the hall and froze. Eyes wide and face flushing with heat, I watched as Luke strode in and didn’t so much as glance at me. He closed the door, absorbed in thought and tugging at his shirt. I had to stifle a squealing gasp when I saw that magnificent, muscled back.
Finally, Luke turned around, bare-chested and brooding. His jaw dropped.
“Reagan? Wha—how?”
I smiled and hugged the pillow harder, trying to find words.
“How did I not…?” He looked baffled, his broad, muscled chest rising and falling rapidly.
“I wanted to say goodnight again. Guess I’m getting better at sneaking around, too.” I slid off his bed and edged towards the door. “Goodnight again. And sorry, I wasn’t thinking.”
Luke inhaled deeply. “Dammit, Reagan, I’m never going to get to sleep now. Not with your scent all over my room.” He prowled towards me, and a shiver of pleasure went over me as I backed up, until my back hit the wall. “What are we gonna do about that?”
“I-I’m not sure. I missed you, and—”
The rest of my words vanished as Luke stopped in front of me, trapping me against the wall. His forearm landed above my head, and he leaned in, his body brushing against mine. He studied me and smiled in a crooked, dangerous way.
“Guess we’ll have to stay up all night.”
For once, my mind was an utter blank, and I pressed my hands against the wall to steady myself as Luke leaned down, smiling, his eyes on my lips. Fingers brushed against the hem of my shirt, and I gasped, then I almost moaned as he circled his thumb on my hipbone.
“Luke, I was too scared to admit it—I came up here because I-I want this,” I said. “I want—”
Luke’s mouth slanted across mine, devouring me, while his fingers dragged across my stomach and back. My breasts brushed against him, nipples going tight, and I found my own hands exploring his ridged sides, the swells of his back, and the lines of his stomach.
When Luke pulled back, gasping and a little unsteady, his forehead rested against mine. “You know, I kinda had a feeling that was the case.”
“We don’t have to rush,” I said. “If that’s what you want…”
“It’s not,” Luke growled. “You think I haven’t wanted you at my mercy from the second you opened that sassy mouth? Or hell, for that matter, been at yours? God, Reagan.” His voice was a low groan of longing. “It’s not only because I’m a red-blooded male who somehow landed a beautiful woman, it’s because I’m—” His words vanished on a shaky exhale. “I’m so in love with you.”
The blue of his eyes was steady and stern, while the green was soft.
I didn’t know what to say or think. My heart was leaping and mixing up my words.
I wanted to cry; I wanted to laugh; I wanted to kiss him.
Suddenly, Luke sank to his knees and wrapped his arms around my thighs, pressing his face into my stomach. I touched his hair, half-alarmed, half-humbled to have an Alpha of the Northbane kneeling at my feet. He looked back up at me and searched my face.
“Stay with me,” he said. “Marry me.”
Though not voiced as questions, but rather as raw, ragged demands, there was an uncertainty in Luke’s voice that broke my heart. Yet the glow suffusing my body went supernova.
I found the words.
“Lukas Swiftlore, you think after finding you, I’d let you go? I’m not going anywhere,” I said and touched his cheek. “Don’t you know? I love you, too. So much.”
He surged up, grinning, and I laughed, even as a sob caught in my throat.
We kissed, our motions instinctive and as choreographed as a dance. One we both knew, and yet the steps were still new somehow. Every time, it was like finding a part of me I didn’t realize had been missing.
“I have something for you,” Luke said, and one hand slid away, fumbling in his pocket. He pulled out a small satin bag, and something clinked musically inside of it.
My eyes began to tear up. “Luke, you…is this what I think it is?”
“Hold out your hand and find out.”
I watched as Luke nudged open the top and then tipped it onto my palm. Two silver rings tumbled onto my palm, plain silver bands that sparkled.
"Sorry, it's not—"
“Luke,” I almost yelled, and he started, giving me a surprised glance. “They’re perfect,” I interrupted and plucked out the smaller one, then gave him my hand. “Here.”
With a smile, Luke slid it on and then turned over his hand. I slid the bigger ring on his finger, then we interlinked our hands.
“Thought I’d be giving this to you in a year or so,” Luke said.
“I would have found it before then,” I said.
Luke brought our hands up to his lips and kissed my knuckles. “That I believe.”
“What made you buy the rings?” I asked.
I watched the big wolf freeze up, and I bit back a laugh. I had to wonder if anyone else had the effect that I did on Luke Swiftlore. It had taken me a while to realize it, but I drove him as crazy as he drove me. Tantalizing torment wrapped up in tit for tat.
“I didn’t buy them,” Luke said. “These belonged to my parents.”
Holding my hand up to my face, I could make out the design woven into it and feel the sturdiness of the metal. "Wow," I murmured, overcome. “Thank you.”
“Pop had a theory thes
e rings would bring me luck. He said the right girl wouldn’t want a diamond; she’d want this. They had them custom made. Mom wasn’t a fancy girl—she wanted something simple, something that would last a long time. Like them.
“After she passed, Pop sent ’em to me, along with the mandate to wait. Always kept ’em close." Luke's body vibrated under my hand. "I never thought I'd meet a girl who'd want them, never thought I'd meet a girl who could be my lucky one, especially after the Rift."
“I love that these were your parents’,” I said. “Luke, I…were they happy?”
“I mean, Mom kept Pop in line, but yeah, they were happy. Almost forty years.”
I suddenly felt connected to Luke in a way that went past attraction or circumstance, like everything had conspired to bring us together for this moment.
“I would have found you,” I told him. “Or you would have found me.”
I thought Luke would laugh it off or shrug, downplay that idea.
Instead, he grinned. “Not even the end of the world could keep us apart, darlin’.”
“Do you come up with these lines in the mirror and write them down or something?” I teased, and Luke growled. “What? I’m just curious about the creative process—whoa.”
Picking me up, Luke brought me over to the bed and dumped me on it. “Go to sleep.”
“Sleeping together before marriage? How scandalous,” I said and snuggled under his blankets. I watched as Luke walked away, shaking his head, and stripped off his jeans.
His firm ass was hugged by a pair of black briefs, then my jaw dropped as he stripped them off, and I got a good look at his glorious naked backside before he tugged on a pair of boxers.
When Luke turned around, he was fighting back a grin. “Flirtin’ with fire.”
I was speechless as he walked over, hit the light, and crawled in. I was even more speechless when he kept his hands to himself and closed his eyes.
“We’re going to sleep?” I asked, sitting up and looking at him.
“Mm, yeah, you’re gonna need sleep and to build up that endurance more to handle me,” Luke said. “Besides, I like that indignant look on your face. And tormentin’ you. Just a bit.”
Speechless again, I watched as Luke nodded off, and I flopped down on the pillows. Squirming, I tried not to think of why I’d need endurance or of Luke’s bare ass.
How was I supposed to sleep now?
Chapter Thirty-One
Luke
Lying together in bed the next morning, I watched Reagan sleep. Stretched out inches from me—since she’d taken over almost the whole mattress—she was deeply asleep. Her head was almost on my pillow, and her legs were curved towards me. I almost wanted to wake her up and give her a hard time about it, but I knew she needed sleep. I also knew she hadn’t been sleeping well. That was why, as much as I’d wanted to give in to my Alpha instincts last night, I’d refrained.
Except in one regard—the rings on our fingers.
Not one regret for jumping that gun. Last night had felt right, and, this morning, it felt even better. She’d basically been my wife since the moment she’d barged into the bathroom.
Or, hell, maybe I’d wanted her to be.
In any case, too, Reagan was more than a future wife—she was my partner. The two of us might need to work out our communication kinks, but when it came to, say, running Winfyre, we were a perfect team. I worried a lot less with her around, too.
Plus, I appreciated that she wanted to go kick Lind’s ass. She hadn’t said as much, but her face and flashing eyes had given her away.
Reagan moved closer, and one of her hands flopped over, landing on my stomach. I sucked in a hard breath at what this woman did to me. She wasn’t even conscious yet. Her scent rose in my nostrils, and the wolf shook awake, prowling under my skin, causing my blood to rise and my morning wood to ache. I went to get out of bed, and Reagan rolled over into me.
“Shit,” I grunted, and she woke up, arching, into me.
“Luke?” she asked in a sleepy voice and rubbed her cheek on my chest. I gritted my jaw, trying to slide away, and yet also not moving. Reagan propped herself up and blinked. “Good morning.”
“Mornin', darlin'," I said in a husky voice, throbbing underneath her now. I was going to explode. My hands curled into her sides and tried to lift her away. "How'd you sleep?"
Reagan sat up and stretched, making her breasts bounce, and I looked away. Suddenly, the memory of the Belrush tent incident hit me, and I sat up, too, careful to keep the sheet on my lap.
“So good,” she said. “Oh, hey, it’s raining.” There was a fine and heavy drizzle coming down outside, obscuring the trees and bay, fog lifting up off the water. “Nice romantic morning.”
“Sure,” I said and slid out, grabbing a pair of baggy shorts nearby. “I’ll get food.”
Racing downstairs, I splashed cold water on my face, let the dogs out, fed them, and made a simple breakfast of fruit and biscuits. When I came back upstairs, Reagan was lounging on the pillows. I sort of shoved the tray at her.
“This is nice,” Reagan said and picked up a strawberry, biting into it. “Want one?”
I shook my head, breathing hard and watching her out of the corner of my eye.
“Are you okay, Luke? What, do you have a headache or something? You’re so quiet.”
“No, I’m enjoying the morning, too,” I fibbed poorly.
Reagan gave me a look and brandished a berry. “Eat something.”
I took it and ate it, trying not to look at her. I’d heard rumors that there was a deeper kind of claim that affected shifters sometimes, almost like a deeper and more potent version of the first.
A mating claim.
I was so lost in thought, I hadn’t realized Reagan had put the tray aside and had swung around to sit with me until she slipped up next to me, her head on my shoulder.
“Luke, what’s wrong?” she asked.
“Nothing,” I got out, almost laughing. “I promise.”
“Are you having second thoughts?”
“No.” My chest heaved, and Reagan lifted her head. “Are you?”
“No,” Reagan said. “But you’re—”
“I’m trying not to ravish you, darlin’,” I said in a low voice, and she went pink, her lips popping open. “I’m the one flirtin' with fire right now." My eyes traced over her messy dark waves, her green-gray eyes, and her scraps of clothing. "I think I'm gonna go take a cold shower. Fair warnin’, you come in here tonight, and I’m not holding back.”
“Why wait until tonight?”
The question sparked up my skin and knocked out my brain for several moments. If I hadn’t seen Reagan’s lips move, I might not have believed it.
She twisted her fingers into a tendril of hair. “I mean—”
I didn’t let her finish that sentence.
Tackling her to the bed, I captured her lips and slid my hands into the back of her shirt. Reagan made a soft, desperate noise against me, and her legs locked around my waist. With a growl, I rocked against her, and she made it again. Louder. I’d have her crying out my name soon.
“Feel what you do to me?” I asked and nipped at her neck below her ear. “You’re gonna make that up to me. For this morning, last night, and every other time you blue-balled me.”
“There were other times?” Reagan asked, arching up with her hands traveling down my back. Her fingers were cautious and curious, finding every ridge of muscle. “Like when?”
“Like Belrush, when you were delirious from sleep loss and slipping your hands in my shirt,” I growled, and Reagan gasped. “I thought about that for weeks.”
“Wait, in the tent?” she asked, and her eyes were huge. “That happened? I thought that was a dream. Oh, Luke.”
“Oh, it happened,” I said. “Payback.”
“Luke, I’m sorry,” Reagan said, and I pulled back. She was bright pink. “I—”
Cutting her off with a kiss, I stroked her tongue with mine and tasted her sw
eet mouth. When I was finished, I pulled back and grinned. “Don’t worry. You’re gonna make it up to me.”
One hand slid down and played with the seam of her shorts before I slipped my fingers inside. Reagan gasped as I teased the outside of her warmth, then flicked the bundle of nerves at the apex. I watched her head whip back and forth, her breasts bouncing as she fought for breath.
“Luke,” she gasped as I gave her a preview of later with my fingers. “Oh, oh. Yes.”
I chuckled against her neck, then pulled back, watching her come undone.
“Don’t stop.” Her eyes were closed, and her body writhed, trying to find an outlet.
And I was just getting started, the Alpha barely freed.
Curling and flexing, I gave her body pleasure with one hand and teased with the other. Flicking my fingers over her breasts, teasing down her stomach and up to her hair, fisting it and tugging it. Reagan’s breathing was sharper and faster, then she clenched up, crying out in pleasure.
I barely gave her time to take a breath before I’d swept off her tank top and swirled my tongue around a peaked nipple. Alternating between teeth and tongue, my hand on her other breast, I played her pleasure higher and higher, until Reagan was a helpless mess.
“Luke, I’m close, I’m—” Her words were sucked in on a hard breath as she came again.
“I’m taking this off,” I said, reaching down and pulling off her shorts.
The sight of Reagan, limp with pleasure and lying in my bed in the soft light of a rainy morning, made my shaft twitch. There was nothing but pressure in my pants.
But I didn’t want to rush this moment. Instead, I began tasting every inch of her, laying feather-light kisses up and down her bare thighs, across her hips, and then up to her shoulders.
By then, Reagan had recovered and was kissing me back, her lips on my chest, my neck, and then we were kissing again. Her silken skin slid against mine, burning everywhere it went.
Wolf's Wager (Northbane Shifters) Page 23
