by Olivia Arran
My eyes tracked down his body, feasting on every inch of naked skin, until they hit his jeans. His unbuttoned jeans. Jeans that had no hope in hell of containing what he wasn’t even bothering to hide, his cock standing thick and proud and stretching his boxers tight.
I swallowed, the heat flooding back. What the hell was wrong with me? Wanting a man who obviously didn’t want me. Or did he? Hell if I knew! There was a name for that kind of thing, I was sure of it, but the sight of him had scrambled my brain. I couldn’t think. Couldn’t do anything but stare… and want. Wait. “You were watching me?” I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. I’d known he might be, the thought teasing and just the right side of naughty, but—
“No. I didn’t watch.”
“Oh.” I shouldn’t have felt disappointed, of course he didn’t watch. It wouldn’t have been the honorable thing to do.
“But, fair warning, I won’t stop myself from watching next time. So keep that in mind the next time you think of me and play with yourself.” His lips curved up in a half smirk, his eyes traveling a lazy path down my body and settling where my towel had hiked up to reveal the top of my thighs.
I resisted the urge to yank it back down. Then something stole over me, maybe a fuck you, but who cared. I spread my thighs a little, sucking in a breath that had my towel sliding even higher.
I heard his breath catch in his throat, the air rattling as he struggled to breathe. Tendons strained in his neck, his back going ramrod straight.
He wasn’t unaffected. I could play this game too. If I wanted to…
Letting my hands slide down the bed, I stroked them down my sides and over my stomach, my eyes never leaving his.
Desperation looked back. And fear.
“Make sure you do a better job this time,” he bit out, then he turned on his heel and stalked out of the room.
Any response I might possibly have made died on my lips as the door slammed behind him.
I squealed with frustration, slamming my fists into the mattress, where they bounced playfully. Self-centered, egotistical, arrogant… I wracked my brain for an appropriately derisive curse, but all that came back was mine.
Chapter Six
Greg
Fuck. My balls were still blue, the bedcovers tenting like a motherfucking teepee. Giving up on sleep, and giving the alarm clock the evil eye—it’s glow gleefully informing me it was only five thirty in the morning—I swung my legs out of bed, shucked on the first set of clothes I laid hands on, and stumbled to the stairs. I sucked on no sleep.
The argument I’d been having with myself all night, right up until I’d somehow managed to black out, came roaring back full throttle. She hadn’t run screaming.
So, what? She hadn’t seen the whole picture, only a glimpse.
But she didn’t seem to mind. Not one bit.
Exactly. She’d been too busy coming to notice.
Fuck that shit—too busy to notice her hands pinned above her head? the voice argued.
My conscience? Up until this point I’d been sure I didn’t have one. But this whiney voice sounded suspiciously like one and the same. Great.
But it was nothing out of the ordinary, a lot of guys liked to restrain their women when they screwed the living daylight out of them.
Yeah, keep on telling yourself that.
I scrubbed a hand over my face, sliding it over the three day scruff on my jaw. It didn’t matter; I had no intention of letting her see the whole picture. Hell, I wouldn’t have dropped the easygoing act around her if I’d been able to keep it together, but alone plus Scarlett equaled no control. Or too much, depending on which way you looked at it.
And she hadn’t seemed to mind. My mind circled, coming back to the one thing I couldn’t dispute. She’d enjoyed it.
Fuck, yeah, she’d enjoyed it. The way her skin had flushed, blood rushing as it pumped faster and faster through her sweet body. I’d have bet a year’s dish duty that her pussy would have been pink and swollen, sweet with her honey and begging for a tasting. Those little sounds she had made, the soft mewls and breathy gasps had been pure torture, but worst of all, that damned towel. Though it had saved me. A naked Scarlett and I would have been lost.
So, the towel had stayed wrapped around her gorgeous curves, and my cock had stayed in my pants. Will stay in my pants.
But, fuck, she was beautiful when she came.
Descending down the stairs, I aimed in a straight line for the kitchen, coffee my drug of choice while trying not to debate the color of her nipples with my newfound conscience. I pulled up short of the door, sniffing the air, saliva already pooling in my mouth at the sweet smell of home baking.
Taking another deep breath, I swallowed hard. Yup, she’s up already. She obviously couldn’t sleep either.
At least she got an orgasm last night. I’d thought about taking care of myself—I adjusted the erection that was busy trying to dig it’s way out of my jeans, willing it to subside—but something had stopped me. I was pretty sure I was punishing myself, something I didn’t want to examine too closely.
Giving up, I decided that if her eyes went straight to my crotch, it would serve her right. Forcing my mouth into a pleasant smile, I pushed open the door.
Whoa! There were baked goods everywhere, muffins and pastries and pies and bread, decorating every available surface. Tasha’s words from months ago echoed in my head, she bakes when she’s stressed.
Hey, the baking thing was okay by me, but the stress? I thought I’d taken care of that last night. Snagging a croissant and what looked to be a bran muffin, I pulled out a chair and slumped into it with a sigh of relief. “Good morning,” I offered her still turned back.
She was ignoring me.
I took a bite of the still warm croissant, the pastry flaking all over the table as it melted in my mouth. I didn’t try and stop the groan of appreciation, closing my eyes and just about managing not to stuff the whole pastry into my mouth.
A plate slid across the table, coming to a stop by my elbow. “You’re making a mess.”
Seeing her scowl, I threw her a wink. “Sorry, but this is really good.”
“Glad you like it.” She turned away from me, signaling the conversation was over, but not before I’d seen her lips twitch.
Swallowing the buttery pastry, I wiped a hand across my mouth, dislodging a shower of crumbs. “Have you been up long?”
“A while.” She didn’t turn back around.
Okay, she was pissed at me. I got it, I was an asshole, but at least I knew I was. Talking about being an asshole, now that I’d fully woken up I was struggling to keep my eyes inside my head. How I had missed it when I’d first walked in, I’d never know. “Planning a workout?” I aimed for nonchalant observation, but it came out a strangled growl. Shit. But what was a man to do? Her bottom half was covered in some sort of clingy lycra, her gorgeous plump ass outlined in high-def detail, including those little folds of skin at the bottom of each buttock—perfect for my hands to dig into.
She turned slowly, and I’m pretty sure I moaned out loud as her buttocks clenched with the movement. A baggy T-shirt did a half decent job of hiding her breasts, cutting off at the waist and revealing an inch of tanned, golden skin.
At her silence, I dragged my eyes back to her face, not surprised to see a self satisfied smirk playing on her lips.
“Maybe. You?”
“You thinking that we should work out together?” The idea barely formed, I was already both in love with it and dreading her saying yes.
She waved a spatula at me, eyes dancing with barely suppressed mirth. “I doubt what I have in mind would be your kind of thing.”
What? Since when was getting hot and sweaty and being able to ogle her ass not my kind of thing? “I might surprise you.”
She titled her head to the side, pursing her lips. “You already have.”
And that was a problem. I needed to get back to not surprising her. Reining in my out of control hormones, I slapped a lid
on them and ruthlessly shoved them down deep inside. I wasn’t a horny teenager, unable to think of nothing but fucking. At least, I hadn’t been, until she’d strolled into my life a few months ago. I was going through a dry patch, that’s all. Needed to get back into the saddle.
With her … my wolf growled, throwing his weight around inside my head.
Nope. Not happening. Even if I never fucked another woman again. Have you forgotten already? I sent back, hating his recoil of pain, but forcing myself to hammer the point home. I needed him on my side, if I was to get through the next week.
Pulling myself together, I deliberately eyed the coffee maker in the corner. “Fresh pot?”
Her eyes narrowed at the deliberate change in conversation, but she nodded, passing me a mug filled to the brim with the good stuff.
“What are your plans then?” I asked, taking a grateful gulp and tossing her, what I hoped was, a guileless smile.
Fixing a cup for herself, she sank into the chair opposite me, her forehead scrunched up in thought. “I hadn’t really thought past finding somewhere to stay.”
“I’m sure Tasha and Cole would be fine with you staying here as long as you needed,” I offered. If need be, I’d move out for a while. Maybe travel. Hell, there were plenty of places I hadn’t seen yet. Like outer Mongolia.
“I know, but I’m hoping it won’t come to that.”
I chose my next words carefully, hoping not to spook her. “What was it you did, back at your pack?” The pack she’d obviously left.
Staring into her mug, her shoulders slumped forward, dejection hanging on her. “Nothing, really. Went to school and got my qualifications, then did the usual, helping out with the pack.”
“What did you do at school?”
She pulled a face. “Business. Boring, right?”
I shrugged. It wasn’t my bag. “Each to their own. You enjoy it?”
“Some, not all. I liked how it all made sense, especially the accounting modules.”
I couldn’t keep the smile off my face. “You’re a geek!”
She scowled at me, but there wasn’t any heat. “Say’s the guy who loves his computers more than anything else in the world.”
“Claws and guns, too, don’t forget those.”
“Where did you go to school?”
It wasn’t a secret, especially not since it fit well with the persona I blasted out to the world. “M.I.T.”
“Yeah, I knew you were a geek.”
Another shrug. “What can I say, the guys need someone like me watching their backs.”
She leaned forward, elbows on the table, chin in her hands. “Does it bother you, being the one left behind?”
Taking a sip of my coffee, I gave her question serious thought. “Sometimes, but not as often as you’d think. I’m always there, even if I’m not the one in the middle of the action. I’m their eyes and ears, orchestrating the operations.”
“I get it. You’re in control.”
Unease trickled down my spine. She’d read me like a book—control was everything. “Most of the time.”
“What did you do before joining up with F.U.R?”
I wasn’t sure how the conversation had turned into Greg central, but she was talking, and looking a hell of a lot more relaxed than she had since her abrupt arrival last night. Not that I’d helped matters. “This and that.” I wasn’t trying to be evasive, but that was a part of my life I didn’t share. With anyone.
“Undercover stuff?”
“Some.”
“More front line?”
“While we’re sharing, maybe you’d like to tell me why you’ve left your pack?”
Sitting back in her chair, she crossed her arms over her chest. “I wouldn’t exactly class what you’re doing as sharing.”
I bit back a groan at the sight of her T-shirt straining tight over her breasts. “I’m answering your questions.”
“Barely.”
“What exactly is it that you want to know?” Forcing the frustration out of my eyes, I arched an eyebrow in question.
“Do you have a pack?”
“Yup. Cole, Angel, Vin, and Abel are my pack.” I named the members of my team, adding, “Oh, and Jason and Macey, of course.” The alpha pair who had created F.U.R, and who I thought of as friends.
She shook her head, her dark ponytail swishing back and forth. “No. Before F.U.R.”
I tried to answer as honestly as I could. “I was a lone wolf before joining the team.”
“What’s that like?” Her voice sounded part wistful, part terrified.
“It depends.”
“On what?” She was hanging onto my every word, her chin back in her hands.
“What you want from life.” I’d wanted to escape, so it had suited me just fine. Now, for Scarlett…?
“I want to not be scared.” It was a whisper, a private confession not meant for my ears, but it was out there. She sprung to her feet, her face flushed and lips parted for a denial.
“Then, you won’t be.” Anger hummed through my veins, bubbling under my skin like acid eating away at my humanity. No one threatens my mate.
She sank back into the chair, disbelief clear on her face. “You’re not going to ask me why I’m scared?”
“You’ll tell me, when you’re ready.”
“But—”
“And then I’ll take care of it.”
She blinked at me, her brilliant blue eyes darkening with emotion. “Why would you? You won’t even admit—”
I cut her off. “Because we’re friends. You’re Tasha’s sister. I hate men who hurt women. Pick any of the above.” Anything but ask me why I won’t claim you as my mate. No matter what I told the guys, I had abso-fucking-lutely no intention of mating anyone. No one deserved my fucked up bullshit.
She flinched, not surprising since I’d just served her a plate of thank you, but no thanks.
I tried one more time. “Tell me why you’re here. Let me help you.”
She shook her head.
A loud bang echoed through the foyer, the front door sounding like it was getting a pummeling.
Her chair clattered to the floor, lying on it’s side. She clung to the counter, her knuckles turning white and eyes wide.
That was it. I could either comfort her, or take care of her. I opted for the later. “You’re going to be answering some questions when I get back.” The only brand of caring that I could offer.
The knock sounded again.
Striding out of the room, I reached for the door.
Chapter Seven
Scarlett
No way had they found me. No. Way. But I’m shaking anyway, adrenaline flooding my system until I can’t stop. Can’t think straight. It can’t be them, not so soon.
And Greg had noticed, dammit! His pale blue eyes darkening with knowledge and anger, letting me know he wasn’t fooled. Wasn’t going to let it go. Was going to push and push until I gave him what he wanted. And then what? He’d go kill Jimmy? It would only make things ten times worse.
Watching him stride out of the room, I dashed to the kitchen door, propping it open so I could see.
Back straight, he drew himself up to his full height, squaring his shoulders and yanked open the door.
A mailman looked back at him, blanching grey at whatever he saw in Greg’s face. A parcel landed on the front step, fumbled from shaking hands. “Needs signing— Doesn’t matter.” And he was gone.
Stooping down, Greg scooped up the parcel and pushed the door closed with a soft click. Ripping the top off the brown jiffy bag, he shook the contents into his hand. Pleasure lit his eyes. “I’ve been waiting all week for these.”
“What is it?” I was still in the doorway to the kitchen, though I had managed to peel my hands from where they had dug into the soft wood.
“Nothing interesting, just some parts I ordered. Took a while to get here.”
Curiosity piqued by the simple pleasure on his face, I continued, “What kind of parts?”
“Come and see.” He held out his hand.
Without thinking, I had left the doorway and was staring at a pile a tiny metal things. Not. A. Clue. “Uh … interesting.”
“They are to me.”
“Okay, then.”
“They’re for a project.”
“Which is?”
“I’ll show you later. Right now, you owe me an explanation.” That look was back, the easygoing guy gone in a blink of an eye.
Where the hell does he get off acting all friendly and calm one minute, then dominating alpha macho wolf the next? Split personality, much? And which was the real him? “No. I don’t.”
Shaking his horde back into the envelope, he dropped it on the table by the door, his movements slow and deliberate. “This isn’t the Scarlett I know, she would have threatened to cut a guy’s balls off if he so much as looked at her wrong.”
He was right. Before, I would have.
He moved toward me, stalking closer.
I forced myself not to retreat, standing my ground.
He continued in a voice that was soft, but filled with determination, “What changed?”
The foyer shrank around me, the once voluminous space filled with him. His presence sucking up all the air. “Nothing,” I forced out. It wasn’t his problem; he’d made that clear when he’d rejected me. Not that I’d been expecting help—or wanting it—I could figure this out on my own. I had to.
“Liar. Don’t lie to me, sweetheart.”
His endearment had me melting, just a little, his voice a low, growly caress to my injured spirit. I resisted the urge to fan myself, clamping my hands to my sides. Why did he hide this side of himself? Putting aside the fact that it was hot as hell, most alpha wolves paraded their dominance like they did their egos. And their cocks. Out there for everyone to see. “I’m not—” The denial died on my lips at the look in his eyes, the one that promised punishment for disobedience. A shiver rippled through me, ending on a soft gasp that sounded suspiciously like a moan.
His eyes narrowed, zeroing in on my mouth. A frown teased his brow. He took another step forward.
