“It’s a heady feeling, knowing I’m the cause of such a masterpiece.” She pulled her sweater over her head and laid it on the chair with their jackets.
“I suppose I could gloat over your stiff nipples, but somehow that’s not as dramatic.” Still, he enjoyed the heck out of eyeing the significant dent they made in the white lace cups of her bra. He kept watching as she took off the bra to reveal those pert nipples set against the backdrop of her creamy, plump breasts. His cock twitched in reaction.
Apparently she noticed, because her mouth curved in a saucy smile. “A bit jumpy, aren’t we?”
“That was definitely gloating.” Shoving down his briefs, he kicked them away. They could dry on the floor. “I want some gloating privileges.”
She unfastened her jeans and peeled them off. “How do you plan to get those?”
He stalked over to where she stood. “By finding out how wet you are.” He grabbed her around the waist.
She gasped. “My dear sir!”
“Oh, sweetheart, I’m just getting started.” He slipped his hand inside her panties, and his fingers encountered all the juicy evidence he needed. “You’re as desperate for this as I am.”
She held his gaze. “Maybe more.”
With a groan, he captured her full mouth and began the amazing process of making love to Giselle Landry. All morning he’d tried to convince himself that sex with her wasn’t that much different from sex with any woman. Ah, but it was.
Her soft skin excited him beyond reason. Once she lay beneath him on the futon, he nibbled, licked, and tasted her as if he’d never experienced such wonders before. “Who needs chocolate?” he murmured against her inner thigh.
Her response was a whimper and a restless movement of her hips.
“Oh, yeah.” Settling his mouth over her slick heat, he feasted with abandon until she bowed upward in surrender and her rapid panting turned into a joyous cry of release.
While she was still quivering from her orgasm, he changed position and eased his aching cock deep inside that welcoming channel. Sweet heaven, but this was good. Cinching himself in tight, he braced his forearms on either side of her head and looked into her eyes. The shadows created by the drawn curtains muted the emerald color of her beautiful eyes, but not the sparkle.
She took a shaky breath and smiled up at him. “Very nice.”
“Mmm.” He drew back and slid forward again, all the while searching her expression for any telltale wince of pain. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“More than okay.” She tightened around him. “Better than ever.”
“Ah.” He tensed. With a supreme effort, he subdued the climax that threatened to break through his control. “If you get any better, I’m a goner, and I don’t want to come yet.”
She stroked his back and looked into his eyes. “Then what should I do?”
“Lie still and don’t squeeze.”
That made her laugh, and her laughter caused a ripple effect that massaged his throbbing cock.
He clenched his jaw. “And don’t laugh.”
“Sorry.” Except she only laughed more, all the while apologizing between bursts of merriment.
“To hell with it.” He gave up the fight and began thrusting, deep and fast.
“I like that.” She clutched his hips, her fingertips pressing down as she rose to meet him. “More of that.”
He sucked in a breath. His whole body was on fire, demanding release. He lost control and drove mindlessly into her, each stroke bringing him closer to the edge of the seething volcano about to erupt.
“Yes, oh, yes!” She lifted up with a jubilant cry.
The ripples of her orgasm touched off the explosion he was helpless to contain, and he surged forward, breathless with the power of the climax ripping through him. The hot pulse of his cock brought a groan of pleasure that vibrated his whole body.
Gradually, the world stopped spinning and he could breathe again. Thankfully, he hadn’t collapsed on top of her. Some part of his brain had continued to function and he’d stayed braced on his forearms.
Soft hands framed his face, and he opened his eyes. Beneath him, she seemed as dazed as he was. Slowly, almost reverently, she touched his mouth, his cheeks, and his forehead, as if memorizing his features. He understood the impulse. He’d wanted to do the same, but had been afraid to let his feelings show.
She was braver than he was, apparently. Caressing his face with such tenderness could mean only one thing. She was falling in love with him. Maybe she no longer cared if he knew.
Maybe it was time for him to tell her that he felt the same. “Giselle, I—”
She laid her finger over his mouth and shook her head. “Don’t say it,” she murmured.
Bracing on one arm, he gently took her hand away. “I don’t know why not. We both feel it. Yes, there are issues, but we’ll deal with them.”
Her smile was the saddest one he’d ever seen. “There are issues that you don’t know about.”
“So you said before, and we played a silly guessing game that got me nowhere. Why can’t you just tell me what it is? I’m shadowboxing, and I don’t like it.”
“Then maybe we shouldn’t do this anymore.”
“Make love?”
She nodded, not even bothering to contradict his use of the term.
“Giselle, I won’t stop making love to you as long as you’ll let me do it. Are you going to tell me not to?”
She swallowed. “I should, but…”
“But?”
“I can’t seem to say the words.”
“Thank God for that.” Leaning down, he kissed away the tears leaking from the corners of her eyes.
Then he pressed his tear-moistened lips against hers. He could tell her with his kiss what she wouldn’t let him say out loud. They still had time. Before they left this little cabin in the woods, he’d convince her that no problem, no matter how daunting, was big enough to keep them apart.
Chapter Twenty-One
Giselle chastised herself for being weak, but she craved Luke, human though he might be, in ways she’d never craved one of her own kind. She felt so alive with him, as if she’d been suppressing her essential being all her life. With Luke, she could be herself, and he seemed fine with that.
He was more than fine with it, in fact. He loved her. And she loved him back, even if she’d never tell him so. She couldn’t have him forever, so she’d make the most of the short time they were together.
With the cabin as their hideaway, they spent the rest of the day making love and sharing the chicken and coleslaw dinner Cynthia had left for them. Because Giselle had dry clothes, she went outside and found the extra wood stored beside the cabin. That allowed them to keep the fire going, which added to the romantic ambience.
She doubted that she’d ever smell wood smoke again without thinking of these hours with Luke. Lying on the futon with him, she gave him an edited version of her childhood because he asked. She knew he sought a clue to the problem she refused to discuss, but she was practiced at evading critical questions. She’d been doing that ever since her parents had allowed her the freedom to mingle with humans.
Although she longed to tell him the truth, she also knew that wouldn’t go well. Humans had been taught to fear werewolves, and countless books and movies had added to the misconceptions. Most people believed that Weres were monsters who passed on their beastly tendencies by biting the humans they attacked. On top of that, humans tended to view the concept of shape-shifting with revulsion. Luke praised her beauty when she was in human form, but how would he react if she transformed into a female wolf with a thick coat of dark red fur? Would he love that version of her? Giselle wasn’t ready to find out.
Inevitably, the hour arrived when they had to leave if they expected to be at the penthouse by eight.
“I could text Cynthia and change the time.” Luke had begun putting on his clothes, which were now dry and smelled of wood smoke. “I think ten works as well as eight.”
“No, it doesn’t.” Giselle zipped her jeans. “Sticking with her time frame indicates we consider her important enough to accommodate her wishes. Once we start fiddling with the time, she could see that as a lack of commitment on our part.”
Luke sighed as he put on his shirt. “You’re right. But I hate leaving. Nothing’s been settled about…us.”
“Yes, it has,” she said softly. “Assuming this four-way discussion goes well, Bryce and I will fly back to San Francisco tomorrow.”
He held her gaze. “Okay. Then I’ll come up there for a few days.”
“That’s not a good idea.”
“Damn it, Giselle!” Frustration was etched on his handsome face. “I—”
“Don’t say it. That won’t help. You have to take my word that we have no future.”
He stared at her for a few seconds. Then, with a muttered oath, he finished dressing.
They rode back down the mountain in silence, which tore at her, but she had nothing helpful to say. They’d had their idyll in the woods, and now came the tough part—putting those special moments behind them and getting on with their separate lives. He’d expected her to crack and reveal everything. That wasn’t going to happen.
Finally, as they stood in the private elevator and it began its ascent to the top floor of the Silver Crescent, he broke the silence. “No matter what happens from this point on, I need you to know something.”
“Luke…”
“You don’t want me to say it, but this may be my last chance, and I damn well will say it. I love you, Giselle.”
She gazed at him as her heart broke.
“You won’t say it, but I know you love me, too. It’s there in your eyes.” His voice shook with emotion, and his blue eyes flashed fire. “I don’t know what the hell it is that you refuse to tell me, but it better be the sort of secret that would endanger the entire free world if you let it get out. Anything less would be bullshit.” He looked at her, obviously waiting. When she said nothing, he turned away. “Okay, then.”
She hurt so much she had to clutch her stomach to keep from doubling over. She’d never wished to be human instead of Were, but heaven help her, she wished for it now.
Luke behaved like the perfect gentleman as he ushered her through the elaborate double doors into the penthouse. Bryce and Cynthia were there, sitting on the butterscotch sectional, sipping from wineglasses. When Giselle and Luke walked in, they both stood.
Reluctantly, Giselle admitted that her tall, red-haired brother and Luke’s tall, blond sister made a striking couple. They looked almost like movie stars standing together. But unlike poised Hollywood celebrities, they appeared nervous.
Giselle decided to break the ice. She walked over and gave her brother a hug. “I didn’t get to do this yesterday,” she murmured. “It’s good to see you.”
He hugged her back. “Same here, Sis.”
Giselle turned to Cynthia. “I’ve seen you dancing, and I just want to say I very much admire your talent.”
“Oh.” She seemed dazzled by that statement. “Thank you so much.”
Giselle’s heart went out to her. Although Cynthia was only six years younger, she seemed much more vulnerable than that. She, too, had lost her overbearing father, and she must be feeling an unsettling combination of grief and freedom.
Behind Giselle, Luke cleared his throat. “I’ve never officially met your friend, Cynthia.”
“Guess not.” Cynthia seemed to regain some of her poise. “Bryce Landry, this is my big brother, Luke.”
Bryce stuck out his hand with an assertiveness that made Giselle proud. “Glad to finally meet you, Dalton.”
“Same here, Landry.” Luke stood toe-to-toe and eye-to-eye with Giselle’s brother. They were the same height and of a similar build. A fight between them would draw even odds.
Giselle prayed there would be no fight. Her loyalties would be hopelessly divided. But after what appeared to be a bone-crushing handshake, the two men separated.
Luke adopted a take-charge attitude. “Obviously we need to talk. I see you both have a beverage. Giselle and I should probably get something, too.”
“I’ll provide whatever you require, sir.” Mr. Thatcher appeared in the kitchen doorway.
Giselle snuck a quick glance at Bryce, to see his reaction to Mr. Thatcher.
Bryce winked at her.
Giselle ducked her head to hide a smile. At the moment, the Weres outnumbered the humans, not that the humans would ever find that out.
“Excellent, Mr. Thatcher.” Luke looked at Giselle. “What will you have?”
She considered champagne, because she hoped they’d be celebrating a reunion of siblings, but she wasn’t completely confident that would happen. “A glass of wine works.”
“Red or white, madam?” Mr. Thatcher asked.
“Red, please.”
Luke turned to Mr. Thatcher. “Make that two, please.”
“And cheese and bread, please, Mr. Thatcher,” Cynthia said. Lifting her chin, she faced her brother. “Mom and Dad always used to have cheese and bread with their wine.”
Luke’s expression softened. “Yeah, they did. Good call, Sis.”
Once Mr. Thatcher left, the four of them stood staring at each other.
Luke took a deep breath. “Let’s all sit down. Giselle, the sectional’s all yours. I’ll get a kitchen chair.”
Giselle picked a spot where the sectional curved, so that she was at right angles to Bryce and Cynthia. Luke walked into the kitchen, grabbed one of the chairs, and brought it back, positioning it on the far side of a glass coffee table. Instead of sitting in it, he spun it around and straddled it.
Very macho, indeed. Giselle worked hard not to smile at the tactic, which made Luke seem far more cool than Bryce, despite her brother’s attempt to lounge on the sectional as if he hadn’t a care in the world. Although one of the males in the room was Were and one was human, their maneuvering for dominance wasn’t all that different.
“First of all,” Luke said, once again taking the initiative, “I want to congratulate both of you on your inventiveness.”
Cynthia’s eyes widened. “You do? I thought you’d be pissed.”
“I was, until Giselle helped me see that the effort involved was kind of…flattering.”
Giselle flinched. “I think what Luke means to say is that he appreciates your efforts to help him understand how much dancing means to you.” She shot a quick glance at Luke and hoped he’d get the message.
Apparently he had, because he nodded. “Exactly. I hadn’t realized before how much you cared about it.”
Cynthia sat up straighter. “That’s because you’re so incredibly dense. I tried to explain this about a hundred times, but you kept blowing me off.”
“You have his attention now, right, Luke?” Giselle gave him an encouraging smile.
“Right.” Swallowing, he focused on his sister. “If you want a job in the Moonbeams lineup, it’s yours.”
Cynthia leaped off the sectional with a shriek and nearly knocked Luke out of his chair as she gave him an enthusiastic hug. “Thank you! That’s awesome! Oh, my God, I can’t believe it! I’m going to be a Moonbeam.” She began twirling in the middle of the room.
She nearly collided with Mr. Thatcher as he came in from the kitchen rolling a cart loaded with wine, a crusty baguette, and a mouth-watering assortment of cheeses. “Mr. Thatcher! Luke said I could be a Moonbeam dancer! Isn’t that fabulous?”
“Indeed it is, Miss Cynthia.” He pretended to be unaffected when she hugged him, too.
But Giselle saw the emotion in his eyes.
Cynthia returned to her seat and exchanged a high five with Bryce. “One project down, one to go.”
Luke blinked. “You have another agenda? Please tell me it doesn’t have to do with squirt guns and water balloons. My heart can’t take it.”
“Oh, this one’s really simple.” Cynthia reached over and patted Bryce’s knee. “A no-brainer.”
Luke’s jaw tightened. “So what is it?”
“Bryce and I have talked about this a lot, and we both think you should sell Howlin’ at the Moon back to Benedict Cartwright.”
Giselle was stunned. She glanced over at Luke, who seemed equally taken aback. But when she turned her attention to Bryce, he gazed at her with a little half smile.
And she got it. Bryce was still loyal to his heritage, and part of that heritage was wrapped up in this bar known to Weres all over the world. By sheer coincidence, he’d become friends with the sister of the human who’d won that bar, and he’d decided to use his influence with her to try to get it back.
That was, she concluded with some chagrin, more than she’d done. She also had influence with the bar’s new owner, but she’d never once suggested he might want to sell it back. She doubted he would have agreed, but she’d never put the concept on the table. With Bryce’s encouragement, Cynthia had.
Luke had recovered himself. “I’m not selling the bar back to the Cartwrights,” he said. “Harrison’s behavior might not have caused my father to die, but the stress didn’t help any. Dad should have been awarded the Moon in the first place. I had to win it back in a poker game, which is fitting, and now that I have it, I intend to keep it. It’s part of the Dalton legacy now.”
“But that’s not right, either.” Cynthia put her empty wineglass on the coffee table. “The Moon is part of the Cartwright legacy, the first thing Harrison Cartwright built in Las Vegas. It has all kinds of sentimental value for that family, but for you, it’s only about revenge.”
“It’s more than that, Cynthia. Every time I looked at that bar, I remembered how our dad fought with Harrison and how he made himself sick over it. It was like a gnawing pain in my gut, a reminder that our dad is gone.”
Werewolf in Las Vegas: Wild About You Page 20
