Rescued by the Wolf

by Kristal Hollis

  None of which meant he was dependable for the long haul. She hoped for Matt’s sake he was.

  “Grace.”

  Her eyelids popped open. Alone on the balcony, she looked over the railing.

  No one on the ground.

  No one in her suite.

  A pound at the door caused her to jump.

  Heart racing, she peeked through the peephole.

  A dangerously decadent hot fudge sundae stared back at her.

  There was a god of chocolate, after all.

  Grace squealed and did a little happy dance as she opened the door. Rafe handed her the ice-cream treat.

  “Thank you, thank you.” She locked the door behind him. “I was jonesing for this. How did you know?”

  “Your message said ‘Midnight snack emergency.’ The night of the accident, you said an ice-cream sundae was your favorite midnight snack.” He followed her into the living room. “I knocked twice. Were you asleep?”

  “Meditating on the balcony. I wasn’t expecting you because you didn’t respond to my text.”

  “Didn’t realize it was a conversation.” He sat on the couch in the living area of the suite, opened the fast-food bag and methodically set three wrapped sandwiches, an extra-large order of fries, napkins and a plastic spoon on the small round table.

  “How can you eat like that and not have an ounce of fat?” She knew he didn’t because she’d seen every inch of him.

  “I run almost every night.” Rafe unwrapped the first sandwich, wadded the paper and dropped it in the bag.

  “You don’t look like a runner. They’re usually lean and lanky.” Grace pulled a bottle of water from the small in-room refrigerator and placed it on the table for Rafe. “You’re thicker, more solid.”

  Elbows on his knees, holding the sandwich in front of his face, he took a giant bite, chewed slowly and swallowed. “You think I’m dense and slow?” His gaze lifted to her with a challenge in his eyes.

  “No.” She joined him on the couch. “Think of greyhounds and rottweilers. Greyhounds are sleek, elegant and fast. Rottweilers are—”

  “Blocky and stout?”

  Neither of which described Rafe.

  “I was going for strong and durable.” She picked up the spoon and shoveled a big scoop of delicious, soft, vanilla ice cream drowning in hot fudge into her mouth.

  Her entire body cheered.

  “I could give a greyhound a run for its life.”

  “Keep eating junk and you won’t.”

  Eying the sundae in her hand, he halted before taking another bite of his sandwich. “Who’s the pot and who’s the kettle in this conversation?”

  “Hey. This is my only vice.” She savored another bite. “Mmmmm.”

  “What about coffee?”

  “Isn’t a vice. Coffee is as essential as oxygen.”

  “If you stopped breathing, which would you rather have, mouth-to-mouth resuscitation or a cup of coffee poured down your throat?” Rafe’s gaze lingered on her mouth.

  Her lips tingled. She gave her spoon a slow, sensual lick. “Depends on who’s providing the rescue breathing.”

  Rafe snorted softly and resumed eating.

  “Mind if I have some fries?”

  “They’re yours.”

  “Thanks.” She drew one long fry from the holder, dragged it through the fudge and devoured it.

  Rafe’s mouth twisted in disgust.

  “Weird, I know, but it’s delicious.” She dipped another fry and held it toward him. “Try one.”

  “It might kill me.” He polished off his second sandwich and unwrapped the third.

  “Those greasy, sauce-slathered burgers will give you a heart attack before this little delicacy will.”

  Mouth full, Rafe shook his head.

  “Oh, come on.” She jiggled the chocolate-coated fry. “Be adventurous.”

  “I’m allergic to chocolate.”

  Aaack!

  All Grace could do was stare, openmouthed. A life without chocolate? She wouldn’t last a week.

  “My first Halloween with Doc I got into my candy bag before he checked it.” Done with his third sandwich, Rafe opened a bottle of water and chugged it down. “Ended up in the emergency clinic. My lips and tongue were swollen, my throat closed, I couldn’t breathe and had a horrible case of hives.”

  “That sucks.” Not only for him, but for her, too. No way would she get the kiss he teased her with earlier.

  “No kidding. I hate goddamn hospitals.” He spoke with such vehemence that Grace simply stared at him.

  “But, you came to see me after the accident.” And he’d brought her home with him.

  “I know what it’s like to be alone in a hospital. Thought you’d appreciate the company.” He guzzled a bottle of water.

  “I did.” Much more than she was willing to admit.

  Kicking off his shoes, he dropped the empty water bottle into the drive-through bag, picked up the French fry holder and plopped his feet on the coffee table.

  “Hey.” She playfully smacked his arm as he shoved several plain fries into his mouth. “Those are mine.”

  He didn’t look apologetic.

  “Thanks for overcoming your fear of hospitals so I wouldn’t have to go through all that alone.” She bumped her shoulder against his.

  “I’m not afraid of hospitals, just don’t like ’em.”

  He offered her some fries, which she accepted, dipped into her ice cream and thoroughly enjoyed.

  “What are you afraid of?”

  He gave her an imposing look. “You.”

  * * *

  Rafe bounced his knee slightly and twitched his hip, but the vibration against his thigh wouldn’t stop.

  Finally, he slapped his hand against his leg, his palm patting the pocket of his shorts for his phone. Opening one eye, he fumbled to shut off the silent alarm.

  He had an hour before he picked up Alex for school.

  Grace wiggled against his ribs, snuggling into him like a pillow. Her warmth seeped through him, pleasing and irritating him all at the same time.

  He shouldn’t have fallen asleep on the couch in her room.

  He shouldn’t have responded to her midnight text.

  He shouldn’t have given her his number in the first place.

  Because now he couldn’t figure out how their limbs managed to get so tangled. Painstakingly, he twisted and turned until he slipped from her clutches.

  Her face scrunched and she moaned a cute little protest as he picked her up. Her scent, already imprinted in his nose, wrapped around him. She intrigued him on a primal level and his wolf was all too aware of her.

  He wanted to come out and play. After all, Grace’s scent was all over him. And his was all over her.

  As far as the wolf was concerned, she was his.

  Rafe carried her to the bed. He stood still, transfixed by the angelic halo of her hair settled on the pillow.

  God, she was beautiful.

  Every masculine molecule in his body charged.

  He pulled the comforter over her, resisting the urge to kiss her. To climb in beside her. To get naked and sweaty with her.

  She probably wouldn’t be too thrilled if he tried.

  The clock on the nightstand flashed the time. Fifty-five minutes to go. Great.

  From the resort, it was only a ten-minute drive to pick up Alex and another ten to the school.

  He had thirty-five minutes to kill.

  Strolling into the bathroom, he saw several towels on the floor. He picked them up. Big mistake. One smelled like the fragrance in her hair. The other held her true scent, not the perfumed one that masked it. Sweet, musky, full-bodied female.

  He held the towel to his face and his body caught fire.

  At least, it felt
like it did. Heat flashed through him from head to toe. Lust clouded his mind like thick billowing smoke.

  His cock grew hard. Too hard to ignore.

  He turned on the shower, cold water only, and stripped. The icy spray bounced off his skin like water chips. The body wash on the shelf smelled like pears and cucumbers.

  He dumped it on his body anyway. It made a nice lather that tickled his skin. He tried to clear his mind, only he couldn’t stop hearing Grace’s giggles when she’d told him about a convoluted shower contraption at an Irish B and B. He couldn’t really remember the details of the actual story because visions of her naked, in a hot, steamy shower, her skin slick, her face flushed, and oh, so ready for the taking, had bombarded his brain in a hailstorm of lust.

  He focused on that fantasy, knowing how soft her body was pressed against his. They hadn’t kissed, but he could imagine her soft mouth nibbling his lips, her tongue sliding into his mouth.

  He pumped his cock, envisioning every inch of her bare skin. She’d seen him naked, twice. He wondered if she had touched herself thinking of him and what she’d imagined him doing to her.

  His hand fisted tighter around his shaft, sliding up and down and back up. His thumb swirled against his slit. With his other hand, he massaged his sack.

  Wet, hot, tight. He knew she’d be all three.

  Tension pooled and weighted his groin. His strokes grew shorter, faster, less rhythmic until he spurted in orgasmic release.

  It took a while for his breathing to even out, his heart to stop racing and his ears to stop ringing.

  He felt the cold water now. He showered quickly, making sure to rinse away any evidence of his morning hand job.

  Usually whatever fantasy he indulged in while showering faded the moment he stepped out of the stall. Grace’s presence with him had seemed far too real. The touches he’d imagined lingered despite the vigorous rub of a towel against his skin.

  No more midnight snack deliveries and no more spending the night on the couch with her twisted around him like a pretzel.

  He wiped the condensation from the mirror.

  Who was he kidding? The moment he’d put his number into her phone he knew he’d come whenever she called.

  Chapter 16

  “When a man shows up at your door after midnight, with or without ice cream, it’s a booty call,” Matt teased. “I can’t believe you simply fell asleep on him. Poor guy.”

  Grace finished tying her ponytail and frowned at her brother’s grin on her phone’s video chat. “For Pete’s sake. He’s just a friend of a friend. Nothing more.”

  “Yet you’ve spent the night with him, twice.”

  “It won’t happen again.”

  “Like hell it won’t.” Matt laughed. “Admit it. You like him.”

  “I admit nothing.” She lifted her bangs to show him the bruise on her temple. “Concussion. It could be affecting my judgment.”

  “Nightingale effect. Take advantage of it, sis.” Matt leaned closer to the webcam. “You deserve a chance to let loose and enjoy yourself.”

  “Um, I am. That’s why I stayed at the resort instead of renting a car to drive back to Knoxville.”

  “And how have you spent your vacation?”

  “I went to the spa, a barbecue, went dancing.” Had a picnic with Rafe in the park, but Matt didn’t need to know that, or the tidbit about seeing Rafe naked.

  “What are your plans for the rest of the week?”

  “The resort has excursions to the local sights and attractions.” She’d need to be back before three, though. To meet with Alex.

  And see Rafe.

  This morning after his phone alarm went off, she’d pretended to stay asleep in case he wanted a quick departure. Instead, he’d picked her up and tucked her into bed.

  She dozed on and off through his shower, it seemed like a long one.

  He also started the coffee, making him a god in her estimation since she hadn’t been able to figure out the darn contraption posing as a gourmet coffeemaker. A part of her wished he would come by every morning to make the coffee so she wouldn’t have to schlep out of bed and drag herself down to the restaurant for a carafe.

  Room service was much too slow for the caffeine deprived.

  The stolen kiss goodbye that she’d held her breath for turned out to be a warm nuzzle against her cheek. The cozy feeling it gave her remained with her, even though he’d left over an hour ago.

  “Boring.” Matt yawned. “Group tour to see yet another mountaintop that looks like a dozen others you’ve seen, instead of getting it on with a sexy mechanic.” Matt scratched his bed-head hair. “Hmm, you’ve got the wrong idea of entertainment.”

  A rap sounded at the door.

  “Hold on. Someone’s here.” Grace moved across the room, phone in hand.

  “Maid service and room service. Some people have it so good,” Matt teased.

  “Suck it up. You’re the one who didn’t want me to come home, remember?”

  “Because I want you to have a life.”

  “There better not be a week’s worth of dishes in the sink when I get back.” Grace swung open the door and nearly dropped the phone.

  “Mornin’.”

  Every cell in Grace’s body went berserk.

  Rafe leaned against the door frame. He’d changed into cargo shorts that hung low on his hips and a dark green polo stretched tight over his chest.

  His mussed hair looked like he’d combed it with his fingers. Short whiskers, a shade darker than his auburn hair, covered his jaw and framed his mouth, making his lips look oh-so-kissable.

  How dare he show up looking so sexy?

  “Grace?” Matt’s voice interrupted. “Everything okay?”

  “Matt, this is Rafe.” She flipped the phone so her brother and Rafe could see each other.

  Rafe simply nodded at the device.

  She switched the video chat to audio and held the phone to her ear. “Gotta go.”

  She ended the call.

  “I cleaned out your car yesterday before I towed it to the body shop for the framework and paint. I didn’t think to bring this last night.” He handed her a bag filled with paperbacks, magazines and a pair of socks she’d been missing. He also gave her a large, tattered scrapbook.

  “You found it!”

  He followed her into the suite, stopping at the archway to the bedroom. She dropped the bag on the floor and plopped onto the edge of the mattress.

  “What is it?” His curious gaze fell on her, not the book.

  “It’s the dream book I started when I was a kid. Pictures of the house I wanted to live in and all the things I wanted to go in it.” It had been a constant in her ever-changing homes.

  “We weren’t allowed to nail anything to the walls.” She opened to one of the pages filled with pictures of artwork. “So in here, I stapled everything wherever I wanted it.”

  A protest for permanency that never materialized.

  Her finger traced the staples and the fraying edges of the magazine paper beneath. There’d been a time when she’d truly believed she would have all these things, if she kept the faith.

  After so many disappointments, her faith cracked and eventually disintegrated.

  “Thanks for bringing this to me.”

  “Wanna go for a ride?” Rafe’s dark blue gaze smoldered with inscrutable emotions. Whatever was going on in those turbulent depths, Grace was definitely game.

  * * *

  Yep, he was an idiot.

  After dropping Alex at school, Rafe had found himself right back at the resort knocking on Grace’s door when he should’ve been headed to Franklin.

  He didn’t consciously decide to go back to the resort. He simply wound up there as if his internal autopilot was drawn to Grace by a magnet.

  Because she wa
s still dressed in her pink pajamas when he’d arrived, he waited in the suite’s living area while she dressed in the bathroom. Hearing the rustle of her clothes as she got ready tormented him with visions of her soft, golden skin.

  Sitting next to her as he drove, Rafe kept his hands gripped around the steering wheel so he wouldn’t reach over to touch her. He needed to stay focused on the road.

  There were automotive supply retailers closer. However, he preferred one over the state line in Franklin. The errand got him out of Maico every couple of weeks and the drive was usually peaceful.

  The radio screeched off the country station Rafe hadn’t changed since the day he had bought the tow truck.

  “How can you listen to this stuff and not want to hang yourself? Someone’s always leaving, cheating or dying.” Grace fiddled with the buttons set to no particular frequency.

  “It’s the only station I can pick up around Maico.” He punched the scan button. “Press this again when you want to stop on a song.”

  The speakers crackled throughout the search cycle until the country station popped up again.

  “Oh, for Pete’s sake.” Grace sighed dramatically. “Sorry I’m so antsy. I think the server gave me decaf at breakfast.”

  With all the sugar she’d poured into her cup, Rafe was surprised she could taste the difference.

  “Addiction is a bitch,” Rafe said mildly. “Even when it’s coffee. Maybe you should cut back, slowly.”

  He’d quit drinking cold-turkey, but he was also in the hospital after driving off the road so his tremors and vomiting and migraines were medically managed. The cravings he learned to handle in rehab. His counselor had told him to focus on a positive activity as a means of distraction.

  He couldn’t get out of the facility to run, so he channeled his love of history into a genealogical project. What started as an attempt to preserve his family legacy eventually led him to Alex and Ronni. At least the maternal line would continue. Sadly, what he’d been able to reconstruct of his paternal lineage suggested Rafe was actually the only surviving descendant of the once-noble Wyatt clan.

  The interest in his family history lead eventually to him investigating the origins of Wahyas. Of course there were no official records earlier than the last two hundred years, when the Woelfesenat had formed, but Rafe studied myths, legends and actual historical events in an attempt to piece together wolfan evolution. He found the research fascinating, but had not uncovered any verifiable data.