by Ines Johnson
She guided him over to the chair in the center of the room, but he shook his head.
“No,” he growled. “Best to take me to the bedroom so that I can lay down.”
They limped their way down the hall until they were in his bedroom. This was all her fault. She’d run away yesterday morning after their night together. When she’d left her house yesterday and ran into the barn, hadn’t she known he would follow? Going into the city to a shop that was within walking distance from the butchery, hadn’t she known he’d come in after her?
Even wearing this dress, hadn’t she known that it would rile him up? She’d done this on purpose and, as her luck would have it, it had backfired on her. But this time, she would fix it.
She could make Rory’s hurt better. She could take care of his ailment. He needed her help, and she would be there for him.
Rory needed her right now. And she wouldn’t think about the little thrill that gave her. She wouldn’t let thoughts of him needing her beyond this night to creep into her mind. She wouldn’t think about nursing his wounds until she was indispensable in his life, and he wanted her around for all time.
He sat down on the bed with a heavy thud, nearly pulling her onto his lap. But she caught her footing and looked down at him. Rory continued down until he was on his back, sprawled across the bed.
Rhetta went for his booted foot. She pulled the shoe gingerly. When she got his injured foot free, she saw that it looked a little red. “Tell me what you need? Ice? Heat?”
“Take the other shoe off.”
She did as he instructed. While she tugged at his second boot, Rory tugged his shirt over his head. Rhetta was momentarily distracted by the unveiling of the expanse of muscle.
Rory was a specimen. Nothing compared to Jordan’s build. Well, she couldn’t be entirely sure. She’d never seen Jordan shirtless.
Jordan had given her a few hugs. They’d been nice; nice and soft. She suspected that it was mostly flab under Jordan's shirt. But that didn’t matter to her. Jordan was …
Rory sprawled back on the bed looking less like an injured puppy and more like a cunning wolf. He reached for his belt buckle, never taking his eyes off her. He undid the buckle, then unzipped his pants.
Rhetta’s eyes were so enthralled with the bulge she spied beneath the fabric that she almost lost herself. Almost. Her gaze narrowed. “What are you doing?”
“The fabric is irritating my skin.” He shimmied out of the pants to reveal the rest of his naked body, fully erect and throbbing and aimed at her.
Rhetta swallowed, remembering the feel of that throbbing member inside her. Rory pulled his feet up onto the bed. He put his legs under him and rose to his knees.
Rhetta looked behind her and noticed that somehow the door to the bedroom was closed. She remembered that not only had he shut the front door, but she distinctly remembered hearing the click of the lock. She realized too late that she’d fallen for the trap.
“You asshole. I thought you were wounded.”
“I am wounded. Let me show you where it hurts.” Rory reached for her, but she slapped his hand away.
“I thought I hurt you.” She heard her own voice and was upset to hear it sounded like a whine. Rhetta never whined.
“It only hurts when you’re out of my reach, pet. So, get in the bed.”
“I thought you needed me.” She choked on the words as she tried to stop them from escaping her.
Rory’s hands came on either side of her face. “I do need you.” He tilted her face up until she stared directly into his eyes. His deep voice was gentle, gentler than she’d ever heard it. “I need you.”
Rhetta tried to turn away from him, but she couldn’t. It was too late.
“I need you,” he repeated.
He had her and he knew it. She’d fallen hard in this trap. She was caught and there was no escape.
“I need you,” he said again, making the words a mantra. “So, get in my bed, Rhetta.”
She closed her eyes. She knew that if she took a step toward him, it would be into another impossible situation.
“Get. In. The. Bed. Rhetta.” He punctuated each word as a separate command.
Rhetta lifted her foot and climbed on board. She tripped up on the bed, but before she lost her balance Rory caught her. He fell back onto the bed with her in his arms.
He laid her down gently and then stripped her bare quickly. He unwrapped her from the dress like he was unwrapping a present. His eyes lit up like a child’s in a candy store with each reveal of skin.
“No more running,” he said.
Rhetta closed her eyes and sighed in answer.
Rory gathered her hands in one of his own and pulled them over her head, stretching her body long. Rhetta opened her eyes in surprise.
“Promise me,” he demanded.
“Promise you what?”
In response, he used his knees to knock her thighs open. “Promise me, you won’t ever run from me again.”
Rhetta swallowed. She’d come to his bed of her own free will. She was giving him her body. Wasn’t that enough?
“No,” he said as though reading her mind. “I want all of you, pet.”
She felt him line himself up with her entrance. That thick head of his cock kissed the petals of her lips like a tongue moving round and round. It hypnotized her. Her body arched toward his, trying to get more of a taste of him.
Rory gave her what she wanted. What they both wanted. The tip of his cock breached her entrance with a slow, steady invasion.
“No more running from me …” His knees spread her wider so that she couldn’t move her hips to push him inside or back away. “No more hiding.”
The slow advance was killing her. She needed to be taken. She needed him to give her no choice, no leeway.
He had complete control of her entire body. Her hands were trapped above her head, and her legs were caught around his. But it wasn’t enough for him.
“You’re mine, pet.”
Rhetta squirmed and whimpered beneath him. An outsider would think he was hurting her. It did hurt. It was the most exquisite torture she’d ever felt in her life. Worse, she knew that when it was over, she would be devastated.
“Say it,” Rory demanded.
But she couldn’t. She couldn’t, even though it was true. It was her only defense against him. All she had left were her words. She kept her lips shut and stared defiantly at him.
Rory shook his head, as though he knew exactly what she was about. He held her gaze, just as he held her hands tight and her thighs open. There was no escaping him.
He was deep inside her, deeper than anyone had ever been, deeper than she knew was possible. And that’s when he pulled the trigger. Rory slowed his pace even more and that nearly killed her.
“Faster, please,” she begged.
“Give me what I want.”
He was relentless. He let go of her hands and took both of her knees. Gripping her thighs, he pushed her knees into her chest and thrust impossibly deeper, but even slower.
“Say it,” he demanded. “Tell me you’re mine.”
The only sounds that came out of her were whimpers and gasps, low moans and high-pitched purrs that would’ve embarrassed her if she could find the strength to care.
“I can play with you like this all night.”
He was lying. She knew what he was doing to her was affecting him too. The sweat collected at his brow. His movements became less and less rhythmic and more frantic.
Rhetta pressed against his grip, but he was too strong. She tried to arch her hips, but he held her still. And finally, a guttural yell tore from her as her climax ripped her in two.
Her body shook and shuddered as the room swayed. Above her, Rory slammed into her. His body jerked once, twice, and on the third time, he howled to the moon as he released his seed into her.
“You’re mine,” he whispered when he came down. “And I’m yours.”
He fell away from her. He lay on his b
ack, breathing deeply as they both returned from bliss. His breathing evened, and his body stilled.
Rhetta turned onto her side to gaze at him. She suspected he would look harmless, like an overgrown cub in his sleep. He did not. He looked every bit as dangerous in his sleep as he did when he was awake and looming over her.
She wrapped her arms around his back and her legs around his hips. She held on tightly as she whispered into the night, “I’m yours.”
In return, she only heard the soft sigh of Rory’s breath against her breast. He was sound asleep. He hadn’t heard her surrender, thank the Goddess. But somehow, she suspected he already knew.
Chapter Fourteen
Rory rolled over and buried his face in the pillows. In just one night, Rhetta’s scent permeated his bed. His hips thrust thoughtlessly into the firm mattress. The material paled in comparison to her supple ass.
He furrowed his brow. Where was her supple ass? Rory raised his head.
Rhetta wasn’t in the bed. She wasn’t in the room, but her scent was still strong. She was near.
He rolled out of the bed, wincing when he put weight on his foot. He hadn’t lied to her. He had taxed his foot chasing after her these past couple of days. He thought of her then, when she’d stormed into his cutting room and began making her demands with her lush curls in a tight bun and her curves hidden under layers of fabric.
His mind shifted to last night with her hair spilled around him, her body naked and pleading beneath his. That was how she should always be; loose, carefree and squirming beneath him.
He heard the sizzle of something cooking in a pan and smelled a scent that rivaled Rhetta’s. He smiled, realizing she was in the kitchen. He pulled on a pair of jeans that hung low on his hips. Then he made his way slowly into the kitchen. His foot aggravated him, but it didn’t protest as his body drew nearer to his woman, and his belly drew closer to the food she was preparing.
Rhetta stood at the stove. She was dressed in one of his shirts. It came just below her ass. When she reached high up over the cabinets for salt, Rory caught sight of the right globe of her ass. A low growl of approval emitted from his chest.
Rhetta turned, her lush curls spilling over her shoulder. “Good morning,” she said primly. She crossed her hands in front of her like a schoolgirl ready to present her report.
Rory licked his chops in response. Standing in his kitchen with bare feet, her hair down around her shoulders and his bite marks peeking out beneath the collar, Rory had to hold the doorframe lest he topple over at the beauty before him.
“I was making breakfast.” She used the spatula to indicate the meat and eggs frying in the pan behind her. “We skipped dinner because someone said they were injured.”
Rory grinned at her haughty tone. He took a step forward, but she stepped back, coming flush against the counter. He raised an eyebrow at her.
“The eggs will burn,” she said. “Sit down.”
She aimed the tip of the spatula at one of the two chairs scooted under his kitchen table. The stiffness in her shoulders made his dick hard. He knew it would only take a brush of his lips to have her melting into him again, but he sensed Rhetta was the type of woman who needed to be in charge, in at least one room in the house.
Fine. He’d give her the kitchen. He’d even give up the remote control in the living room. So long as she understood he maintained absolute control in the bedroom.
Rory pulled out a chair. He sat back, legs sprawling as he watched her. She seemed pleased that he followed her instruction. He didn’t miss the smug smile that lit her lips as she turned back to the pan.
Rory inhaled and something sweet and delicate hit his nose. He hadn’t seen what was in the pan aside from the eggs, but he sensed there was something else beneath the scent of lard and meat. It was something he hadn’t smelled in a long time. Whatever it was, it gave him a warm, fluttery feeling in his heart.
Putting his hands behind his head, Rory inhaled again. This time the scent went to his head, and his breath caught. Could it be?
He sat forward. His nostrils flared as the grease crackled and spat in the pan. Beneath the oil, the smell was unmistakable. A new life.
His Rhetta was pregnant. Wolves had a strong sense of smell, alpha’s senses were even stronger. When the child belonged to that alpha, he’d know within days when his seed had taken root.
Rhetta carried Rory’s child within her. Tears blinded Rory. He nearly opened his mouth to tell her. But he stopped.
He wiped his eyes, and he shut his mouth. He sat back, and he watched his woman—his mate—as she went about the business of preparing food for him, not knowing that she had just given him more sustenance to live than anyone or anything in the world could have.
But he didn’t say a peep to her about this new discovery. He figured that if she found out she was pregnant, she might freak out and make a run for it again. So, he decided to remain mute.
He’d wait. Wait until she found out for herself. Let her come and tell him when she came to the inevitable conclusion that this was good news.
Then he’d celebrate with her instead of trying to convince her once more of their fate. Because he and Rhetta were meant to be, had likely always been meant to be. They both just needed to get past the other people in their way to see it.
Rhetta turned her head over her shoulder and glanced at him just then. The move lifted the shirt, giving him another enticing view of her barely covered ass. “You’re having salmon with your eggs instead of bacon.”
“I don’t like salmon,” Rory said.
“Well, you’re gonna learn. All that red meat keeps up the inflammation in your foot. Fish is anti-inflammatory. And so is tea.”
She picked up a mug and set it in front of him. It was filled with water and leaves. Rory frowned his nose down at the brown liquid. Where did she even get this stuff?
“It’s basil tea.” She looked at him defiantly, as though she were waiting for a fight.
He didn’t have a single ounce of fight left in him. He was fighting the urge to lay down on the floor and show his mate his belly. “Did you sweeten it?” he asked.
Rhetta lifted her chin, squaring off against him. “Sugar causes inflammation.”
Quick as lightning, Rory reached out and grabbed her wrist. He uncurled her fist and extended her index finger. Placing her finger in the cup, he stirred a couple of times.
“There,” he said, releasing her hand and picking up the mug. “Now it’s sweet.” He leaned back and sipped the drink, finding it surprisingly refreshing.
Rhetta stared at him another minute before turning her attention back to the pan. She seemed unsteady, as though the fight were going out of her too. He watched her shoulders relax. She looked around. And they tensed back up.
“You need to change the colors on the walls,” she said.
Rory shrugged. “Fine.”
She paused. Her shoulder blades bunching and relaxing again, as though they didn’t know how to settle without weight upon them. She turned off the burner and slid the food onto a plate. “I was thinking a light blue.”
“If that color will make you happy.” Rory picked up the fork and shoveled the eggs and salmon into his mouth. It was heaven. Why did he think he didn’t like this meat?
“Me?” she asked.
Rory blinked and looked up at her standing there. Her face was a painted mask of shock and uncertainty. Rory sat down his fork and pulled her torso into him. He rested his chin on her belly, inhaling that delicate scent again. With his nose right at the source, it smelled strong. Rory couldn’t hide his smile when he looked up at her.
“You what, pet?” he said.
“You want to do what makes me happy?” The words rolled off her tongue as though they were a foreign language.
“Of course.” He kept hold of her torso with one hand and reached up and tugged at a curl with the other, letting it bounce back in place. “That will be my number one priority for the rest of my days.”
“Making me happy?” Her legs came around the outside of his thighs, and she folded herself down onto his lap, facing him. Her hand came to rest on his cheek.
“You’re my whole world now.” He placed the lightest of kisses on her lower lip. But it might as well have been a deep throated kiss with the way she shuddered and sighed.
“You better not be messing with me, Rory Garcia.”
Rory’s heart broke a bit as he looked at the fear in her eyes. But then his wolf noted the fierceness. “What would you do to me if I did mess with you?”
“I’ll bite you back.”
Rory’s grin spread until his teeth flashed. Rhetta flashed her own teeth. She lurched into him and claimed his mouth. The kiss was brutal, and he gave back as good as he got, and Rhetta gave good.
Her hands came around his neck, and she dug her fingers into his scalp. Her lips claimed his. It was Rhetta, and not Rory, who intensified the kiss. It was Rhetta, and not Rory, who began to nip. Her nails clung to his chest, and he whimpered a helpless moan.
“Fuck, Rhetta,” he panted.
Her eyes lit up, full of the knowledge that her nips and claws turned him on. Rory had thought he was in trouble the first morning after being inside her. He now realized that had been child’s play.
Rhetta reached down and unzipped his pants. She grabbed his erection. Quick as a cat, she moved on top of him and slid down. Rory dug his fingers into her ass to set a slow pace, but she stabbed her fingernails into his chest and sped up.
Rory hissed at the beautiful pain. His head lolled back. When he righted his head, he caught her looking at him with a gleam in her eyes.
“Fuck,” he sighed.
He’d have to concede the kitchen to her with cooking and fucking. Rhetta rode him hard and fast. In just a matter of a few strokes, he was close. He reached down and found her bud. He pressed his thumb into her, rubbing in tight circles to take her with him. But she smacked his hand away and instead nipped at his neck.
Rory laughed out loud, thrilled that she was anything but a kitten who would roll over at his dominance. Her bite brought him over the top as she marked him as hers. He clutched her to him as her teeth tore at his skin. When his release came, it was his entire soul that emptied into her perfect body.
