by Tami Lund
Mating with her.
He shook off the fantasy when she inserted the key into the door and then stepped into her apartment. He followed her, closed the door, and then pulled her back into his arms. They hadn’t broken contact since leaving the vehicle, yet it wasn’t close enough.
“I need you naked,” he said. He grabbed the hem of her dress and pulled it over her head. Unclasping her bra, he bent and sucked a nipple into his mouth, while his hands roamed down her body, found the elastic waist of her panties, and pushed them down to pool at her feet. She made a noise of pleasure when he turned her away from him and then pulled her close again, grinding his erection into her ass.
“Oh yes, Josh,” she murmured. He swept her hair out of the way and nibbled on her neck. One hand massaged her breast and the other slid down between her legs. Jesus, she was drenched. Hot and wet and ready—for him. He flexed his hips, imagining pounding into her like this. She reached around and grabbed his denim-covered ass, lifting her face for a kiss.
“We should do it like this,” she said in a husky voice. She nipped at his chin. “I like this position.” She arched, shoving her ass against his dick and rolling her hips. He sucked in a harsh breath and clamped his hands on her waist, squeezing, while she mimicked shifter-style sex and he fought the very real urge to drop his pants and thrust into her.
“I, ah, it’s kind of hard to do when I’m still dressed.” His voice was strangled, strange to his ears. He wasn’t sure what he planned to do. He had lost control of the situation, of his senses, of his desires, long ago.
“I can fix that.”
She turned around and he slowly exhaled as a tiny strand of control returned to his senses. With her delectable and perfect ass out of view, he could focus on something else. Okay, no, he couldn’t. But at least he could focus on another position.
She dropped to her knees before him. His heart rate accelerated when she undid his belt buckle, unsnapped his jeans, and lowered the zipper. His dick strained against the front of his boxers. His entire body was hard as a rock, every muscle tense with anticipation. She stroked him through his boxers and he squeezed his hands into fists.
She pushed his jeans and boxers down his legs, and then she wrapped one hand around his dick while cupping his balls with the other. He flexed his hands and thrust against her touch. Fuck, it felt so good, and she hadn’t even touched him with her lips yet—
“Holy hell.” He muttered the curse when she licked him from the base to the tip and then without missing a beat, took him into her mouth and suckled. Hard. He tangled his hands in her hair, guiding her, helping her find a rhythm that was going to push him over the edge far, far too quickly. Abruptly, he pulled her away then reached down and tugged her to her feet, lifting her into his arms. He staggered over to the couch and dropped her onto her back, covering her a scant moment later. Grabbing her thighs, he spread her legs wide and slammed into her, doing it quickly and with little finesse, but entirely on purpose. Otherwise, he might have flipped her over onto her stomach and taken her that way.
Rachel didn’t seem to mind. She cupped his ass, digging her fingernails into his butt cheeks and encouraging him to go deeper, harder, faster. “Yes, yes, yes,” she chanted, and he felt his orgasm swell. “No, no, no,” she suddenly said, shoving at his shoulder. “Condom.”
“Fuck.” He pulled out and fell back against the couch, breathing heavily, his heart stuttering so fast he was afraid it might explode. While he sat, immobile, save his pulsing and jumping dick, Rachel tugged his wallet out of his jeans and found a condom. He watched as she fumbled with it, her hands shaking as she tore the foil and pulled out the slippery ring of latex. He winced at her second attempt to sheath him, and finally managed to pull himself together enough to do the deed himself.
Before he could press her back against the couch again, she climbed into his lap, straddling him, balancing on her knees, her gaze locked onto his while she lowered herself onto his erection. He cupped her face and pulled her to him, making love to her mouth while she made love to his body. For as much urgency as they’d felt a moment before, she slowed the pace, taking her time, moving almost in slow motion. It felt so damn good Josh wished it could last forever, but the sweet torture was bringing him close again, too close. Without breaking contact with her lips, he lowered one hand, massaging her breast for a moment before sliding his hand between them to stroke the bundle of nerves he knew would send her soaring.
Within no time, she bucked against him, her body spasming even as she continued to ride him, the urgency back, that desperation it seemed they both felt every time they came together. Every damn time. Would it always be like this?
He wished to hell he could find out.
Josh grabbed her hips, using his grip to guide her, faster and faster, until he grunted and gave a shout and finally found his own release. He dropped his head back against the couch and she draped herself across his body.
After a few minutes of sated silence, he said, “I’m sure you have a bunch of questions.”
“A few,” she admitted.
“I can’t answer them.”
She lifted her head and he saw the confusion on her face. He shook his head and worked to soften his tone. “I’m sorry, Rachel. It’s…I’m sure you think we’re like the mafia or something. But that isn’t it. Not exactly. I mean, I don’t go around breaking people’s kneecaps and stuff.” He offered a lopsided grin, trying to lighten the suddenly somber mood. “But we are a very inclusive organization, and I am responsible for all the people within the organization, whether they are actual family or not. I know it’s strange, but that’s the way it is.”
“Will you answer one question?”
His voice was leery when he said, “What is it?”
“Is she yours?”
“Who?”
“The baby. Maddy’s new baby sister. Or Maddy, for that matter.”
Relief filled him and he laughed. This, he could answer. “Gus would kick my ass if I so much as looked as his mate, let alone got her pregnant. Pack mast—er—association leader or no. We—our kind—one thing we definitely don’t tolerate well is someone else expressing interest in our mates.”
She arched her brows.
“Or girlfriends,” he added.
She smiled and cupped his unshaven jaw. “I understand.”
“You do?”
She smiled and shook her head. “No. But I do understand that I’m not part of that aspect of your life, and—”
He cut her off with a kiss. What she said was the truth, but he didn’t want to deal with the truth tonight. At least, not at that moment. “Let’s not talk about it anymore. I’m sorry I brought it up. Let’s just…be together.”
She smiled and snuggled into his lap. He rested his chin on the top of her head and held her there, enjoying the comfort she probably didn’t even realize she provided him. She comforted him, she took away the stress. She made him happy. She made him want to be a better person. She was everything he wanted, and everything he couldn’t have.
When she didn’t move for long minutes, he glanced down. Her cheek rested against his shoulder. Her eyes were closed and her breathing steady. She’d fallen asleep.
He was exhausted, too, and would have liked to carry her to bed and tuck himself in next to her. Instead, he slid her in between the sheets and covered her with the worn patchwork quilt. He stroked his hand over her red locks and smiled when she whispered his name.
And then he left. He was a pack master. He had duties to see to.
Chapter 9
The apartment was dark when Rachel woke and realized she wasn’t alone. It wasn’t a pleasant, oh-Josh-is-here feeling, either. It was more along the lines of shit-someone’s-in-my-apartment. She lay in the middle of the bed, trying not to breathe too loudly, while at the same time trying to figure out if she could reach the baseball bat she kept propped against the wall nearby, for exactly this purpose.
“I know you’re awake.”
> She nearly breathed a sigh of relief at the familiar voice, and then had to bite back hysterical laughter at her own ludicrous reaction to realizing the intruder was the enemy she knew, instead of some random house-breaker.
Light flared when he flipped the switch on the wall, and Rachel covered her eyes with her hand, waiting for them to adjust to the sudden brightness in the room. When she was finally able to see, she warily watched The Prick as he meandered around her bedroom, his nose quivering when he toed at a shirt Josh had left lying on the floor.
“This place reeks of him.”
“Guess you know I’m doing my job then.”
“Not as well as you should be, considering your life is on the line.”
Rachel flung her arms into the air and then grabbed the sheet when it slipped dangerously low on her body. “What the hell do you expect me to do? He’s been here practically every minute he isn’t working. I’ve called off my shifts at my second job so many times I’m afraid they’re going to fire me. Am I supposed to convince him to quit his job now, too?”
“That actually has merit,” The Prick said, sounding as if he was truly contemplating the idea.
Shit. She hoped to hell he didn’t tell her to do that. Josh had too much integrity. He had told her that hotel employed a fair number of the members of his association. If he walked away from that, he’d put their livelihoods into jeopardy, and she couldn’t see him doing that, no matter what creative sexual position she might think up next.
“I heard a rumor you’ve been to his house. That, in fact, you spent the night.”
She lifted her chin and gave him as defiant a look as she could.
“Excellent move.” He sounded as proud of her as a father who had discovered his daughter made the right choice on her last date. Rachel caught herself gaping and quickly snapped her mouth shut.
“Keeping him away from his duties has been working, but not well enough. I’m losing patience. And your presence in his home caused quite a stir. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before, but really, it’s the perfect plan. I want you to convince him to take you back to his place. I want you to be there as frequently as possible. Move in, for all I care. In fact, that sounds like an excellent idea.”
Rachel finally found her voice. “Move in with him?” This was unchartered territory. She’d done all sorts of things to get by in life, but she had never pressed a man to cohabitate with her. Largely because she’d never wanted to. She’d never had a desire to share her space, or share much of anything at all, to be honest. Even sex had been a temporary, pleasurable escape, but one she’d experienced on her own plane, focused inward, because it had never been about love. It had always been about a means to an end.
While the reason for the start of their affair had been exactly the same as when she’d started every one of her previous encounters, somewhere along the line, it had become so much more. When she slept with Josh, they truly coupled. She shared her pleasure with him, she experienced her orgasms while watching him reach for his own, she reveled in their mutual satisfaction. She had no desire to be alone. She wanted him, all of him. His heart, as well as his body.
Oh, God.
“I can’t.”
The Prick’s left eyebrow shot into his hairline. He stared her down for long seconds before speaking. “I don’t think I heard you right.”
She repeated herself, averting her gaze as she did so. Then she scrambled off the bed, taking the sheet with her, and pulled a T-shirt and a pair of shorts out of her dresser. When she headed to the bathroom to get dressed, an arm shot out, blocking the doorway. She froze, clutching the clothes and the sheet to her breast, her breathing erratic, her heart racing, but her shoulders thrown back and her gaze steady on the wall across the hall. If he was going to kill her, she was not going to cower with fear when it happened.
Instead of shooting her or stabbing her with a knife—or hell, ripping her head from her shoulders—he leaned close, so close his breath caused her hair to flutter and tickle her ear.
“I’ve been watching your progress.” His voice was low-pitched, so quiet she had to strain to hear him, and he was speaking right next to her ear. “I’ve seen the way you maul each other in public. I saw you shopping together. I watched him feed you raw fish.” He spat the last, as if he had a particularly strong distaste for sushi. Rachel winced. Knowing he spied on her and Josh somehow cheapened the experience, which made her angry. Damn him for reminding her that what she had with Josh was a hoax. It wasn’t real. It was a job.
He was a mark. And she hated herself for it.
“I want out. Surely I’ve caused enough damage that you can close the deal on your own by now?” Her voice was taunting, which was a mistake. He grabbed her by the back of the neck and pushed her against the wall, face first, none too gently. When he spoke, it was next to her ear again.
“You will get out when I say you can, and not one fucking second sooner. Do I make myself clear?”
When she did not immediately nod, he jerked her away from the wall and slammed her into it again. Pain exploded in her head and she tasted blood on her lips. “Stop!”
He released her so abruptly she dropped to the floor in a heap. Fighting tears of frustration and pain, she stayed there, wrapping her arms around her knees and staring at the ground.
“I know you have developed feelings for him,” the bastard prick commented. “And if you so much as think about going to him and telling him about my goals, I will ensure he knows precisely how and why you met, and make it clear exactly what your intentions have always been.” He kicked at the sheet and Rachel hated herself for cowering.
“Move into his home. By this weekend.” And then he was gone.
Rachel gently laid her head back against the wall and finally gave in to the tears.
Chapter 10
Clearly, Rachel was a stress-cleaner. After her crying jag, she’d spent what was left of the pre-dawn hours scrubbing her apartment, an attempt to both wash away the memory of The Prick, as well as to try to relieve the nervousness she felt knowing Josh would come over after work, and knowing she was about to lie to him. She hated herself more with every breath she took.
After barely struggling through her admin job at the nonprofit, Rachel returned to her apartment and downed three shots of tequila. By the time she heard his key in the lock, she was almost ready to face him. She caught her reflection in the microwave door and then turned away from the bruising and black eyes she’d carefully hidden under a layer of makeup.
Rachel had plenty of experience with hiding the evidence of abuse. While her mother’s drugged-out friends hadn’t done more than push her around some, once she’d gotten dumped into the foster system she’d experienced her fair share of abuse, and she’d learned to hide it from her teachers, the other kids at school, the advocate who periodically checked on her. And when she started dating, well, she hadn’t been a very good judge of character in the beginning. Learning to hide the after-effects of a bad relationship was one skill she’d perfected.
But Josh was too damn perceptive. More than anyone else in her experience. He noticed the black eyes, the bruising, the moment he stepped into the apartment.
“What happened? Who did this? Somebody’s going to pay.” He grabbed her and hugged her, then pushed her to arm’s length and studied her face, his own contorted into a mix of anger and concern that nearly broke her resolve.
She managed to shake her head and force out the words she’d rehearsed in front of the mirror. “It wasn’t on purpose. I mean, I wasn’t the target. It was—a drug deal gone bad. Right outside my apartment. I made the mistake of opening the door.” She winced when she touched the puffy skin over her cheekbone. “I walked into somebody’s fist.”
He pulled her into his arms again and she clung to him, buried her face in his shirt, and focused her energy on not crying.
“You’re coming home with me. You’re not to be here alone ever again, do you understand me?”
; Hysterical laughter bubbled up, unbidden. He really did make her job far too easy. Which was good for her longevity of life, bad for her emotional state.
“You’re too good to me.” Finally, a truth. It was nice to be honest once in a while.
He kissed the top of her head. “You deserve it. You deserve more than I can ever give you. But for now, I’ll do what I can.” It was a hell of a cryptic thing to say, but she was too relieved to question him. “Let’s pack what we can right now, and I’ll call Matt to arrange to have someone come pick up the rest of your stuff. I’m not gonna lie, I’m pretty damn excited to have you in my bed every night for the foreseeable future.”
*
Foreseeable future. How long would that be? A few days? A week? A month? The fates knew it certainly wouldn’t be forever, no matter what Josh wanted or craved or wished for. It was bad enough he was moving her into his mansion, however short-term it might be. But he couldn’t leave her in her apartment after seeing her face, the bruising, the swollen lip, and especially the fear in her eyes. He had a feeling whatever happened had been worse than she claimed, but he hadn’t wanted to press, to remind her of the fright she must have felt at the time.
While she went into her bedroom to fill a suitcase with clothes and whatever else she considered necessary, he stepped into the hall and called Matt. “I’m bringing Rachel back to my place tonight.”
“You just don’t learn, do you?” Normally, he appreciated Matt’s unfettered honesty. But since meeting Rachel, he’d learned to resent it. He knew what he was doing was wrong for the pack; he did not need Matt’s constant reminders.
“Carmen and the pups loved her,” Josh argued.
“Not enough to welcome her into our pack. For fuck’s sake, Josh, she’s human.”
“I know that,” he snapped back, glancing over his shoulder when his voice rose with his agitation. “She isn’t safe here. She lives in a shitty part of town, and she got beat up at some point in the last twenty-four hours. I can’t leave her here.”
