Werewolf in Las Vegas
Page 16
“I’m afraid we’re going to fall in love.”
Once again, he was sucker-punched. Yeah, it could happen. Probably had begun already, but he wasn’t a poker player for nothing. “Hell, no, we’re not! This is about sex, lady, not love. Do you see me writing you little notes? Bringing you flowers? Finding out your birthday?”
“No.” For the first time since they’d left the bathroom, she managed a tiny smile.
“That’s what I do when I’m falling in love, and if you don’t notice those behaviors, you can safely assume I’m only here for the S-E-X and nothing else.”
“But you looked really upset when you thought I might be sick.”
“Hey, I tear up at sad movies. I hate hearing about tragedies thousands of miles away. You could be a total stranger and I’d still be upset if you said you were really sick.”
She cocked her head to study him.
He stared right back. Her hair was a disaster, soggy strands that desperately needed to be combed out. All her makeup had been washed away, which meant he could see the pale freckles sprinkled across her nose. She was a knockout.
“How about if I crack jokes while we’re having sex?” he said. “Will that convince you this is strictly a physical attraction?”
“Do you know a lot of jokes?”
Hope bloomed where before had stretched a Giselle-less desert. “Will I need a lot of jokes?”
She grinned at him. “You might.”
“Aha!” Moving over her, he urged her back onto the quilt and settled himself between her thighs. All this depressing talk had taken the lead out of his pencil, but in this position he’d be good to go in no time. “These three monkeys walked into a bar, and the first monkey said—”
“You’re wonderful.”
“No, he didn’t say that. He said—”
“I mean you are wonderful, Luke Dalton. Now kiss me and quit talking about monkeys.”
So he kissed her and silently congratulated himself on dodging a bullet. He also hoped he still had a joke book tucked away somewhere.
Chapter 16
Giselle had more sex that night than she’d known was possible. Once they’d agreed a bed would be more comfortable than the floor, Luke had suggested moving to a different bedroom. Apparently, the penthouse had several. But Giselle had become fond of this bedroom and this particular bed, so she’d asked to stay.
Consequently, they’d stripped off the chocolate-covered bottom sheet and put on the top sheet. Only one pillowcase was smeared, which left three others for them to use. When they’d added the comforter, dry side down, they’d been in business.
Eventually exhaustion had claimed them in the early-morning hours, and they’d slept. Giselle woke up first, as pale light filtered in from the window. She was disoriented until she glanced over and saw Luke sleeping peacefully beside her.
He was quite an Adonis, this human male she’d chosen as her one-and-only non-Were sexual partner. His dark blond hair was tousled from wild sex and deep sleep. He had a tiny spot of blood on his jaw where he’d nicked himself shaving in the middle of the night.
She’d tried to talk him out of that scheme, but he’d insisted that good oral sex required a clean shave, and he wasn’t forgoing it because he was too lazy to get out his razor. She’d been the beneficiary of that resolve, and thinking about it made her flush with pleasure all over again.
He’d followed that with some good old-fashioned missionary sex that had curled her toes. And, boy, did he have staying power. She’d heard rumors that human males didn’t possess the stamina of a Were when it came to the duration of each episode and frequency of said episodes. If Luke Dalton was typical, then the rumors were dead wrong.
She didn’t think he was typical, though. True, having sex without a condom seemed to inspire him. Yet even taking that factor into account, his performance was nothing short of amazing. She, who’d always prided herself on being sexually fit, had begun to wonder if she’d be able to ride her rented motorcycle the next day.
If not, it was her own fault. After the shower incident, she’d made the decision to pull away from this unwise attraction. She could have stuck to her guns and not allowed him to charm her right back into his arms. But her willpower, something she’d always been so proud of, seemed to be AWOL when it came to Luke.
She melted every time he smiled at her. Then warning bells would clang in her head because she shouldn’t be melting at the sight of a human male’s smile. A loud siren screeched when she remembered that fateful moment in the shower when she’d allowed him to take her from behind.
Luckily, it hadn’t been a binding. They would have had to be on all fours for that, but still . . . they’d skated dangerously close to having Were-style sex. Worse yet, she’d wanted to have that kind of sex with him.
She’d even fantasized breaking her self-imposed rule against Were-human mating. Others had done it. The Wallace brothers from New York, Aidan and Roarke, both had human mates and seemed very happy. More recently Jake Hunter, the Alaskan Were who’d been so opposed to mating with humans, had done an about-face and chosen human Rachel Miller.
But she knew of only one female Were who’d taken a human mate. Penny Stillman from the Stillman pack in Denver had abandoned her Were family so that she could live as a human and marry in the human way. She hadn’t told her husband, Tom, she was Were and had insisted on adopting children to guarantee she wouldn’t end up with werewolf offspring.
Now that Giselle was involved with Luke, she could understand Penny’s decision to live a lie. The truth might have driven away the love of her life. But whether he had stayed or not, he would have become the guardian of a dangerous secret, one he’d have to keep from every human he knew, including those he loved. It was a burden that some had agreed to carry, including the three human female mates Giselle knew of. But a Were always had to consider whether it was fair to ask such a thing of the human they loved.
Ultimately, Giselle couldn’t imagine choosing Penny’s solution, but expecting Luke to deal with the secrecy seemed presumptuous. Neither choice was a good one, which meant she had to let him go, and he would never know why. She should be filled with regret for allowing this relationship to happen.
Whatever it said about her, she didn’t regret any of it. She didn’t think Luke did, either. He’d made it clear that he’d take what was offered and be grateful. If they dealt with heartache when all was said and done, it was the price they’d both pay. Speaking for herself, she would willingly pay that price for the memories she’d have of loving Luke.
His nose twitched and he reached up to scratch it. Then, slowly, those dark lashes, surprising for his fair coloring, lifted, revealing his blue-eyed gaze. He ran a tongue over his lips. “Did you hear the one about the fireman and the pole dancer?”
She chuckled. “If that’s an invitation for another round of mattress bingo, I should probably pass. I need to be able to function today, and I’m not sure I can walk.”
“Really?” He pushed himself to a sitting position. “Did I hurt you? I didn’t meant to—”
“It’s okay, you sweet man. I could have stopped you at anytime, but I was having too much fun.”
His frown turned to a grin. “So it’s a good kind of sore?”
“Uh-huh. Every little twinge today will remind me of you.”
“Good.” He looked quite pleased with himself.
“You’ll be on my mind constantly.”
“And vice versa. Manly men don’t usually reveal such things, but I’m a little sensitive this morning, too.”
“So what was the deal with starting off with a joke? It sounded like a signal that you wanted to get it on.”
He pushed the comforter away and stroked her breast. “I do. I’d put up with a little discomfort for the ultimate reward.”
Delicious tension coiled tighter with every movement
of his hand. “Keep that up and I’ll agree with you.”
“Nope. If you’re sore, then we need to back off for a little while.” Leaning down, he kissed the swell of her breast before hopping nimbly out of bed. “I’ll go get your suitcase out of the guest room and then I’ll start a bath for you.” He grabbed his phone from the top of the low dresser. “Mr. Thatcher can bring up Epsom salts.” His thumbs typed in a message. “You can soak your tender parts while we wait for breakfast.”
Epsom salts and a bath. She felt cherished in a way that she hadn’t felt with her Were lovers. Then she realized why. Werewolves healed their injuries by shifting. If she shifted into wolf form and back again, her soreness would disappear.
Her Were lovers had known this. They hadn’t needed to worry about any issues, from love bites to overworked muscles. She could take care of herself.
But Luke was a considerate human male who wanted to coddle her. She was touched by his impulse to do that. But it wasn’t love notes and flowers, she reminded herself. He’d promised to stay away from that kind of gesture, and she was glad they’d established those ground rules.
After he’d wheeled her suitcase into the bedroom, he walked into the bathroom. Soon she heard water thundering into the large Jacuzzi tub. His caring gestures settled over her like a warm blanket, and she admitted that there were many ways to show affection besides love notes and flowers. Ordering up Epsom salts and running a warm bath were two of them.
With a sigh, she climbed out of bed. They were falling for each other, but maybe if they never acknowledged it, they could pretend it wasn’t happening. The final separation would still hurt like hell, but at least they would have saved face.
Walking over to her suitcase, she unzipped it and rummaged around until she came up with a bag of elastic hair bands. She drew her tangled hair into a high ponytail and fastened it with a bright green one. About that time, she heard the front door open. Mr. Thatcher must be here with her Epsom salts.
She put on the short terry-cloth robe she’d packed and belted it securely around her waist. When she walked into the bathroom, Luke glanced at her with tenderness. “In that ponytail, you look about fifteen.”
“Good thing I’m not, huh?”
“A very good thing. What’s with the robe? Turning shy on me?”
“No. Mr. Thatcher just came in the front door.”
“He did?” Luke grabbed a towel and knotted it around his hips. “I didn’t hear him.”
“The running water probably drowned it out.”
“And anyway, you have that extra-keen hearing.” He said it as if he’d accepted the fact in the same way he accepted that she had red hair and green eyes.
That was good, she decided. Now she could admit to hearing things that might prove useful to them without causing him to be suspicious. He didn’t have to know how much better her hearing was than his.
He glanced over at the tub. “It takes a while to fill, but it’s worth the wait. Don’t get in yet. I’ll go get the Epsom salts. We might as well give him our order for breakfast before he heads back down. What would you like?”
“Anything is fine.”
“Aw, come on, Giselle. Test the system. Eggs Benedict? French toast stuffed with cream cheese and blueberries? You name it, and the chef will fix it.”
No love notes or flowers, but anything she wanted for breakfast, no matter how exotic. Yep, he was falling for her. And when he gazed at her with that expectant expression on his handsome face, she couldn’t stop herself from falling for him, either.
She thought of her favorite breakfast in the world. “A strawberry waffle with fresh strawberries and whipped cream, please.”
“You’ve got it. Anything else?”
“Coffee and orange juice.”
“I’ll order that. And I’ll be right back with your Epsom salts.” He started out of the bathroom.
“Luke?”
He turned back. “What?”
“Do you think Mr. Thatcher will know why you wanted Epsom salts?”
“Maybe.” He smiled. “But I’ll tell him you turned your ankle getting out of the gondola at the Venetian.”
“Thanks.” She assumed Mr. Thatcher would figure out pretty soon that the relationship was no longer platonic, but she’d rather not advertise that they’d had enough sex for her to need a warm soak in Epsom salts. With luck, a maid would change the sheets and Mr. Thatcher wouldn’t be privy to the chocolate smear-fest that had taken place.
She remembered the conversation about Were-human pairing and wondered if Mr. Thatcher would start worrying about Luke now. She’d thought of him as a Were ally, but he was also devoted to Luke and Cynthia. He wouldn’t like knowing that she was going to make someone he loved suffer.
Luke came back in with the bag of Epsom salts. “He says to rest your ankle today. He asked if you needed an ACE bandage, and I said you didn’t. I think he was prepared to disagree with me.”
“Maybe I should have sprained my wrist instead.”
“We’ll figure it out. Look at that; he even opened the seal on the bag for me. Now, that’s service.” Luke sprinkled a generous amount of the granules into the water.
“He’s very thorough.”
“He’s an amazing guy.” Luke set the bag on the bathroom counter and turned off the water. “I don’t know what I’d do without Mr. Thatcher. He’s been like a spare parent. Now that my dad’s gone and my mom’s in France, I depend on him even more.”
“I’m glad he’s here for you.”
“Me, too. He’s as loyal as the day is long. Completely trustworthy. Well, the bath is ready. Want a hand in?”
She took off her robe. “I think I can manage.”
“That’s probably a good thing.” He backed away from her. “Because watching you move around while you’re naked is getting me hot. You realize there are jets in the tub, right?”
“There usually are in a tub like this.”
“Want them turned on?”
She smiled. “No, thanks. I want a nice, peaceful soak. No jets involved.”
He let out a shaky breath. “I’m glad. Because if you wanted the jets on, then I’d wonder what you were doing in there with those jets, and I’d have a really tough time keeping myself from climbing in with you.”
“Maybe you need to be in here with me. You said you were sensitive after our two-person orgy.”
“I couldn’t handle it. You, me, and a big Jacuzzi would have a predictable outcome. Before long, I’d forget that the whole point was giving you a rest from me and my insatiable demands.”
She laughed as she stepped into the warm, soothing water. “Don’t beat yourself up about that, Luke. Like I said, I was a willing partner in all of it.”
“I know, but . . . Listen, would you mind sitting down in the tub? And sliding under the water so I can’t see anything but your head?”
Glancing back at him, she noticed the towel he’d wrapped around his hips now jutted out at right angles to his body. “I see the problem.” She lowered herself into the tub and scooted down until her chin touched the water. “How’s that?”
“Better. But you know what? I’m going to check the messages on my phone. That should shut down my libido. I probably have about ten riddles piled up from my little sister.” With that, he walked out of the bathroom and took his impressive erection with him.
She hadn’t thought much about Cynthia and Bryce in the past few hours, but she needed to concentrate on that problem. She’d tried a direct approach to Bryce last night, but that had gone nowhere. Although he hadn’t said so yesterday, he might be irritated that she’d come to town without telling him, even if he thought she was a good influence on Luke.
Well, he’d left San Francisco without telling her, either. She’d deserved some kind of explanation for his behavior. He had to know it’d impacted her.
Perhaps now he agreed with Duncan MacDowell, a werewolf who championed integration of Weres and humans. Duncan had founded WOOF, Werewolves Optimizing Our Future, and his popular blog argued in favor of blending the two species. Many in the Were community strongly opposed that idea, but every time a human and Were mated, the hole in the dike widened. Bryce would have heard about Jake Hunter’s recent decision to take a human mate. Although Bryce wasn’t romantically interested in Cynthia, he might welcome some other human female into his life. Giselle hoped not. Such a move wouldn’t go over well in the Landry household.
More than that, she had a feeling that Bryce and Miranda should be together. Whether Miranda would ever forgive him for cutting out on her was a whole other matter, but Giselle hoped that she might. They seemed right for each other, despite this current glitch in their relationship.
But if her brother had decided that a human female like Cynthia Dalton would suit him better, Giselle and her pack had big problems. A Were-human mating caused ripples throughout the Were community, and that was for starters. Either Bryce would abandon his pack, which left Giselle holding the bag, or he’d ask his human mate to become part of the Were world, which would create a set of problems for whoever that woman might be.
At least that woman wouldn’t be Cynthia. Giselle’s thoughts drifted to Luke’s sister. Had Luke ever considered bringing Cynthia into the business? Maybe not. He was in so many ways the throwback she had imagined him to be when they first met.
Cynthia might not want to be an officer in the corporation, but if Luke had never asked her, that wasn’t good. Giselle had much to talk to the man about, but she had to choose her words carefully. These were touchy subjects.