Meg disagreed, but the distress in Tara’s eyes convinced her to change the subject. “I swear, I gain five pounds every time I come in here.”
“Maybe, but it’s so worth it.” Tara grinned back.
Meg shook her head and laughed. She might gain five pounds just smelling the heavenly place, but it never had any effect on Tara. She was medium height and thin, never seeming to gain an ounce. She was going through another of her many hair phases; this time it was short, spiky, and deep burgundy. Meg leaned around to look at the back of it.
“What do you think?” Tara asked, looking ill at ease and fingering the short strands in the back.
“I like it. It suits you.” Meg grinned.
“Thanks. So what’s it going to be today? Did you just stop in to chat, or are you here to be bad?”
“Definitely to be bad.” Meg studied the display case. “I’ll have a chocolate éclair and coffee. I’m closing tonight.”
“I think I’ll join you.”
They carried their small dessert plates and coffee mugs to a table by the front window. Meg bit into the éclair, closing her eyes in appreciation as the chocolate hit her system. It was rich and sweet, a sensual treat she should indulge in more often. She had a sudden image of Darius licking a line of chocolate off her stomach and opened her eyes in shock. She had to get this Darius thing out of her system.
“Heard from Summer?” she asked, needing to focus on something safer than the luscious and tempting stranger.
“Got a postcard from Wyoming, I think.” Tara laughed. “I can’t keep up with her anymore.”
Summer was Meg’s other cousin, and though none of them carried their grandmother, Tinnie’s, last name, the town knew them as the Deveau girls. They’d all spent half their lives in Tinnie’s house on the lake, Summer and Tara after their parents died, and Meg after Tinnie died. With a six-year age difference, Summer and Tara had been the much-admired and imitated older sisters Meg had always longed for. As adults, Tara and Meg had stayed in town. Meg took over her father’s bar when her parents retired and Tara struck out on her own with the bakery. Summer, though, became a zoologist and was often out of town for long stretches.
“The house is selling this week,” Meg said softly.
Her eyes sad, Tara nodded.
“It’s better this way. None of us are going to live in it. You and I have our own places, and Summer’s never here.” Meg shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant when it was far from what she was feeling. “There's no point to it just sitting there empty.”
“You're right,” Tara answered, her eyes downcast as she studied her coffee dregs, obviously trying to squash the pang of guilt selling Tinnie’s house gave her.
They changed the subject to mutual friends and Tara brought up the latest community news. A man had been discovered mauled to death in the swamps not far from Meg’s house. The game warden blamed the grisly death on a bear and had launched a hunt for it. It was a measure of how much Meg had isolated herself, that she’d missed something so major.
A frisson of fear skittered up her spine at the thought of how close the body had been found to her home. The house was her haven. In her self-imposed isolation, she wasn’t assaulted by other people’s thoughts or insights into a future she didn’t want to explore. There were some things you just didn’t want to know about your fellow townspeople.
But in the last few weeks the house had seemed to grow too isolated, or maybe just too lonely. Maybe she should take Tara up on her offer of her couch for a few days, because with the sudden clarity of her gift, she knew the bear incident wasn’t a bear at all.
The back of her neck tingled and she was certain someone was watching her. Again. For days the feeling of being observed had come and gone, and it was getting damned old. She turned and looked out the window, but only saw the usual ebb and flow of pedestrian traffic on the town’s sidewalks. The feeling faded after a few minutes.
It had to be Darius. She scrunched her brow in irritation. He should just come in. Mentally she rolled her eyes. After ignoring him, refusing to take his calls, and avoiding work to keep him at bay, it was no wonder he didn’t. The real question was why she suddenly wanted to see him. The story about the bear attack made her nervous. That was all. She clung to the self-delusion.
Refusing to waste any more time thinking about Darius, she rose, gathered the dishes, and took them through the swinging kitchen door to rinse in the sink. She still had time to explore some of the shops and catch up on paperwork back at the bar, and she planned to take advantage of it. It beat sitting around and brooding about dark and mysterious men and the delicious things one in particular could do to her body.
Meg said goodbye to Tara and stepped outside. She turned in the direction of the little art shop, which was more a curiosity shop with interesting little finds. On the walk over she stopped and gossiped with friends. The bear attack was everyone's mind and they all seem to expect some insight from her. Unfortunately, her witchy powers had never been so accommodating. It was aggravating. She rarely picked up what she wanted to know.
Her uneasiness grew, and her sixth sense flared out in awareness. She was certain someone was following her, and she checked over her shoulder at every stop, but never spotted anyone. Never spotted him. Maybe it wasn’t Darius after all. She felt like a mouse to a cat, and that just didn’t seem to be his style.
She felt immediate relief when she entered the shop, and explored with more slowly than usual to extend the respite. A small placard in the front window announced new ownership, but whoever it was hadn’t taken the time to clean up. The usual clerk had her nose buried in a book at the front display case so she guessed he or she didn’t consider it a priority.
The place was a disaster and had to be in violation of the entire fire code. Meg loved it. Rows of tall metal shelves were crammed into the space, creating narrow aisles, and they were packed with fascinating odds and ends. You never knew what you’d find, and some items had more than likely been buried in the racks for years.
She would never have found the wolf figurine on one of her usual visits to the shop. It was about five inches tall, delicate and carved in light-grained wood. She set it on the palm of her hand. The wolf sat on its haunches, its head thrown back in a howl. It looked sorrowful and lonely, touched a chord deep within her as if they were long lost friends. She traced it with a finger, loving its pose and the contours and emotions evident in the figure. The carver had captured an elemental knowledge of his subject, and she wanted it. Turning it over, she had to look twice at the price. She started to put it back when a deep, familiar voice spoke behind her. Darius. How the hell had he snuck up without her noticing?
“You don’t want it?”
She drew in a deep breath before she could stop herself. She had been imagining his scent for weeks, that woodsy and completely male smell only he carried. He smelled wonderful and addicting. She turned to find his broad chest just inches from her eyes. Another thing she remembered too well was his body. She wondered how well muscled he was under the loose-fitting shirt he wore. Don’t go there. Taking a step backward, she tilted her head up.
“Out of my price range,” she said, making an effort to keep her tone light while still clutching the small wolf in her palm.
“Ah. I know the owner. Maybe I could get you a discount,” he answered. Smiling a little he asked, “You like wolves?”
She glanced down at the little statue. Before she’d taken over the bar, she’d followed her cousin, Summer, around the country in search of wolf habitats, but they’d never held the same fascination for her as they did for Summer. For her, they were a vocation. To Meg, they were endangered species, haunting and beautiful.
“Not usually.”
She shrugged, then turned and forced herself to put it back on the shelf, her fingers protesting the move. She caressed it one last time, imagining she could feel the wolf’s rough coat under her fingertips. Darius stood silently behind her, a brooding male presenc
e, and she recalled the tension that had pushed her into the shop in the first place. Spinning around to glare at him, she crossed her arms over her chest and tried to take a defensive step away.
“Have you been following me? ’Cause you can stop it.” She paused. “It’s creepy.”
He blinked and his expression grew more remote than usual before his icy blue eyes sharpened on her face. Had she thought his eyes were cold? They seemed capable of shooting sparks. He moved closer to her in a protective gesture that normally would have made her feel crowded and edgy, but instead warmed her insides. Would she ever get over this baffling reaction to him?
“This is the first I’ve seen you today. I was going to your bar and saw you come in here. Perhaps you are mistaken, and it’s…anticipation that has you so jumpy.”
She arched an eyebrow. How typical. A man couldn’t provide an answer, so he fell back on his ego. Either that or he was calling her paranoid.
“No, I’m not mistaken,” she said, trying to inject a note of disdain into her voice. “Someone’s been watching me for days. I can feel it.”
She felt a perverse urge to egg him on. She had been close to deciding to fuck him and get it out of her system. Now, face to face with his arrogant attitude, she wasn’t so sure. He'd probably be insufferable if she did.
“You seem the most likely culprit.” She gave him her most saccharine smile. The one she saved for obnoxious customers. “And it certainly isn’t anticipation. More like feeling stalked.”
The look in his eyes morphed into pure lust. If keeping her distance was the plan, pushing this man was the dead last thing she should do. He would take it as a challenge. There was an aggressive air to him and a look of command she was finding hard to resist. Giving into the pull between them would be a very bad idea. It was obvious he was not accustomed to being questioned or disobeyed. Obedience had never been her strong suit.
He smiled and her stomach dropped. Sex with him would be mind-blowing. She just knew it. He seemed to be reading her mind as he took her elbow and led her out of the store, turning toward her bar.
“I think we should discuss that a bit more privately,” he said in a lust-thickened voice. "I haven’t been stalking you, but if you don’t stop avoiding me I might give it a shot. In a non creepy way, of course."
Outrageous words, but that didn’t stop her whole body from going hot and needy. It was a short walk. She was blinking in the bar’s dimness before she even considered the implications of what she was doing. It was only five, and the place was still empty. The after-work crowd would be drifting in within minutes. And she was about to have sex in her office. Excitement coursed through her and her pussy got even wetter.
Before she could form a protest, Darius steered her toward the office in the back, dragged her inside, and shut the door. The lock clicked. There was no chance for her to put distance between them now even if she'd had the will to do so. He backed her against the wall, the hard length of his body pressed against hers. And oh my, he was hard. Every splendid inch of him.
He nudged her feet apart and nestled his erection against her belly, shackling her wrists with one hand over her head. She'd never gone for aggressive, domineering guys, preferred a sexual give-and-take on an equal playing field. But Darius had her blood heated and her heart pounding in anticipation, to use his word. She struggled to figure it out and briefly wondered if she could get away. If she even wanted to. He must have seen it on her face.
“Oh no, baby,” he muttered, pulling the band out of her hair and twisting his free hand in it. Tilting her face and leaning in. “I’ve been fantasizing about tasting you since we met. Kiss me. Don’t question this, us. Just go with it.”
She couldn’t resist one kiss, and it was not at all what she expected. He nipped her shoulder first, feathering kisses to the curve of her neck and the erratic pulse beating there. Teeth traced the line of her jaw before finding her lips. Gently he pressed his mouth to hers, his tongue following the curve of her bottom lip. The kiss was so sweet, she sighed and opened her mouth for his exploration.
Chapter Three
He knew she thought she could hold a piece of herself back. She wrong, but surprisingly, control was just an illusion for him too. Though he managed to keep the kiss languorous, he held her hands in a vice-like grip, his erection grinding hard against her hips. He'd only had a sip of her, but her scent surrounded him, wet and ready. She wanted him as much as he wanted her. He'd finally broken through her cool façade, and she made it damned hard to think straight. He got the feeling she would be ripping his clothes off if he weren’t holding her immobile.
God, she was sweet. He reined in his urge to plunge into her and tried to slow his racing heart. He wanted her memories of their first time together to be explosive but gentle. And where the hell did that thought come from? He hadn’t been gentle a day in his life. But she didn’t strike him as the type of woman who enjoyed loss of control. He was sure she would adjust to him eventually, but he didn’t have that time to wait.
The full moon was near. He was in a new place with a new, young pack, and his mate was unclaimed. It made his wolf side edgy, nervous and more primal than usual. The human side fought to hang onto his logic and discipline, the lupine for power dominance. He didn’t stand a chance.
He released her hands to pull the tank top over her head. She wore a plain white cotton bra with a front snap. The only thing sexy about it was the woman wearing it, and it had to go. Maybe he could get her in red lace someday soon. Her nipples hardened under his gaze and with a touch he released the snap. She had full, high breasts, and her nipples were hard, the areolas peach-colored areolas. Beautiful. He could look at her all night, but first he needed to taste her.
He sucked one of the hardened tips into his mouth. She groaned, inflaming his blood more, and cradled his head in her arms. He wondered if she was always so responsive. No, it was better not to go there, not speculate. Feeling a rush of jealousy, he tightened his hold on her. The past couldn’t be changed. He couldn’t claim to be innocent himself, and she was his now.
He kissed his way to her other breast as he reached for the snap on her jeans, fumbled with it a minute before it finally slipped open, and tugged them down her thighs. Pushing her panties aside and cupping her with his palm, he spread her lips for a light brush of his fingers against her clitoris. She jerked in response and he groaned in pleasure--she was hot and wet and arched into his hand. He thrust two fingers inside her, circling her clit with his thumb, imagining his cock in her tight pussy.
Her breath grew ragged, and he felt her heart pounding as she rode his fingers to her first climax. She tightened around him, and he abandoned the rest of his restraint. Who was he kidding? He couldn’t control this anymore than he could control the moon.
Quickly discarding his jeans and shoes, he bent to remove hers, desperate to get inside her. Still pressing her back to the door, he lifted her up, his hands cupping her bottom and she clasped her legs around his waist. With one deep thrust, he understood what it meant to have a mate. He groaned. Completion. She completed him. His heart pounded crazily out of control. He wanted to savor the moment, to make it last all night, but she moved against him and the wolf in him demanded a fast, hard claiming.
*
Meg wasn’t sure how she’d gotten in this position, backed up to a wall, her legs clinging to Darius’ trim waist. He was smooth and hard and thick inside her. She felt the wildness rising in him, and her muscles clenched involuntarily in response. Adjusting her position as much as she could, she felt him shift higher inside her. A soft moan escaped and a small tremor ran through him. It thrilled her. She could make him lose control too, and she realized with a kick that she wanted that.
Once he'd got inside her he'd frozen, so using his shoulders for leverage, she slid up the length of his cock, and then lowered herself back down. She drew out the long strokes until they were both gasping and trembling. He reached between them with one hand and found her aching cli
t, rubbing it in lazy circles. His other hand tunneled into her hair and pulled her in for a rough kiss. He took command, his tongue thrusting deeply into her mouth in a hard, marauding claim in perfect time with his cock. Each stroke came faster and harder.
She sensed he was holding back, waiting for her. He pressed her clit harder and her next orgasm snuck up on her. As it rolled through her, he clamped his hands on her hips and drove into her, rough and hurried. She cried out when she felt him bite her shoulder and the first shudders shook her body. With a low growl, he held her still as he came, his body stiffening against her while her muscles continued to clench around him.
She leaned her head back and closed her eyes, content let him keep her pinned to the wall. She didn’t want to move. She felt too good, too sated, and she doubted her rubbery legs would get her far anyway. Her thighs were still wrapped around his hips. He saved her the trouble of attempting to free herself by turning with her and walking around her desk to the chair.
“No, don’t move,” he said quietly as she tried to lower her legs. He sat back in the big leather chair and she leaned into him, resting her head under his chin.
“Once is not going to be enough, is it?” she asked. God, she hoped not. She already wanted him again.
He laughed. “No way.”
The shrill ring of a cell phone broke the mood.
He sighed. “Yours or mine?”
“Not mine,” she answered, moving out of his lap and reaching for her clothes. She picked up the phone and handed it to him just as it stopped ringing.
“You moved for nothing.” He grinned. “Why don’t you come back over here?”
“Hmm.” She pretended to think it over. “Work, maybe? Believe it or not, bars do not run themselves.”
She had her jeans and bra back on, and paused before pulling on her tank top. It slid to the floor and her fingers went to the stinging bite he’d left on her neck. They came away with a drop of blood.
Under Cover of the Moon Page 2
