She also gave up on trying to get Ryder to talk. No more modeling sounds for him. Instead, she raided the cooler for lunch. Jasper had left them store-bought sandwiches and potato salad. She ate hers and gave Ryder his, which he tore into with his teeth.
She tried to ignore him.
She wished that Jasper had left her something to read—a magazine or a novel would have made the day go by much quicker.
Instead, she watched the sun move across the sky and wondered if anyone had noticed that she was missing yet. It had been three days, which would have been plenty if she was still married, or if it was fall, and she was back to work. But it was summer time, and she was a woman alone. So, there was no job to wonder where she was, no husband to call the police in a panic. She hadn’t even been spending time with friends, not that she really had close friends these days.
Before Chad, she’d been close to a group of other single girls, and they’d all met up with each other and gone out to bars, trolling for men. Most of those girls were coupled up now, though, and most of them—gallingly—had children. When her friends had started to get pregnant, Calla had wanted to be happy for them. She knew that if she were to conceive, she would be thrilled and would want others to be thrilled as well. But Calla couldn’t summon happiness. Instead, she only felt jealousy.
Why them? she would think. Why them and not me? Didn’t I do everything right? Didn’t I have it all planned out perfectly? What’s wrong with me?
She’d tried everything, even a treatment with hormones and a round of IVF. But that had wiped out her and Chad’s savings, and he hadn’t been keen to try again when it didn’t take. He said they should just get used to it being just the two of them.
And then he’d promptly gone out, had an affair, and knocked up that skinny bitch Irene. Calla clenched her hands into fists, staring up at the sky, still feeling the betrayal of it.
The worst of it was because she knew that it was her fault. There was something wrong with her. She was the one who couldn’t get pregnant, couldn’t make her dreams of a child come true no matter how she tried. And staring that failure in the face, well, that was what made it impossible for her to be close to her friends once they got pregnant.
Instead, Calla withdrew. She stopped checking Facebook—too many posts about babies and small children and other things that Calla could never have—and she stopped reaching out to her friends or taking their calls. She tried to force herself to go to their baby showers, but she simply couldn’t handle it. The idea of watching all those women cooing over her friend’s swelling belly was too much. No, Calla just stayed home. She stopped talking to all of them, even the ones who weren’t pregnant, because they all seemed so happy, and she just felt miserable. She knew that she was no good as company. Her life revolved around trying to conceive. When there wasn’t that failure to keep her miserable, there was the soul-sucking nature of her job, in which she began counting down the days to summer right after she finished counting down the days to Christmas.
Teaching was thankless, and she couldn’t get through to her students. She settled for making them shut up, and sometimes she couldn’t even do that.
She wasn’t the kind of person who was much fun socially, and she knew it. The few times that she and Chad did go out, she soon found herself alone after she had complained to anyone who would listen. Everyone must have thought of her as a bitter woman. Perhaps they pitied her, but they didn’t want to be near her.
So, the upshot of all of this was that there wasn’t anyone checking up on Calla. She was fairly sure that no one had noticed she was gone. Even if someone did, they would probably think she’d gone on an impromptu vacation and simply not told anyone.
She wondered how long it would be before anyone thought that she might be missing.
Why, it might be as long as the middle of August, when she didn’t show up for work. She felt sick to her stomach. Would Jasper be done with her by then? He promised he wouldn’t kill her, but she wasn’t sure what he would do.
Hell, it might not matter anyway. Leroy might burst out of the woods at any second and put two bullets in her skull.
The hopelessness of it all choked her. She might have cried if it hadn’t seemed so pointless. Instead, she just felt herself hollow out, all of the will draining out of her. She was stuck out here, and she was probably as good as dead. Even if she wasn’t, what kind of life could she even return to?
“I don’t have a life,” she said out loud. “I’m no one.”
By the time evening rolled around and Ryder slunk back up to be close to her, she didn’t try to stop him from rubbing up against her. He might be a dog-man, but he was the only being out there who even remotely cared about her. She should take what she could get.
* * *
Ryder found the soft woman extremely confusing today. She was kind to him, and then she was angry. She wanted to be close, and then she drove him away. He had spent all day trying to get close to her again. He wanted to try the human mating ritual again, putting his lips on hers. He couldn’t remember the word for it anymore, but he felt certain that if he did it again, he would remember the word. He would remember that and much more.
But it was hard, because Calla wasn’t much like a wolf. She was a human woman, and she was very complicated. Things were simple when wolves wanted to mate. It was all communicated by smell, and he would feel confident doing what he had to do just because her scent told him the story.
But the human woman could smell as if she wanted him for all the world and still yell at him and push him away. She could still react angrily, and it confused Ryder very much.
All he could think was that the soft woman was feeling frightened of him. He knew about fear. When he’d first come home, he’d recognized Jasper as pack because he’d smelled him, but he had still been frightened of his brother. It had taken time, Jasper slowly coming closer and closer before finally Ryder began to completely trust him.
So, Ryder decided to back off from the soft woman. He would keep his distance for a bit.
He left her alone for hours. While the sun moved through the sky, he stayed on the other side of the campsite. He could still see her, and she could still see him, but he was careful not to come too close or try to provoke her.
As it got dark outside, he thought he’d try to get close again. He made his way over, and she didn’t resist him, so he stayed. But he didn’t attempt any of the mating, not yet. He bided his time, waiting until after they had eaten their late meal.
Even then, he made no moves, not until the soft woman made for the tent. Then he came along, warily, because he knew that last night, she had not wanted him inside with her.
But the soft woman seemed tired and almost beaten. She didn’t protest. She let him inside with her. She curled up on her blankets, and when he lay down with her, she didn’t stop him.
She stroked his face instead, whispering words to him that he wished he could understand.
Then, and only then, did he try to put his lips on hers again.
There was a token bit of resistance from her, as her lips were stiff against his…
Kiss! That was the word. Yes. He had known it would come back to him.
He was so excited that he didn’t pay much mind to her resistance. Instead, he thrust his tongue between her lips, deepening their connection, and other memories and words began to wash through him. He remembered that this kind of kissing was called “French” for some reason, and that he’d never understood it. He knew that certain things, like beans and fries were called “French” because of the cut. In fact, they were French-cut green beans. But that didn’t hold up with kissing or with French toast. None of this had ever made sense to him.
He pulled away in his bemusement, feeling more like himself than he had since last night.
But then he remembered Leroy.
Leroy was here, and that wasn’t good.
However, last night he’d gone off out into the woods, and he’d lost everything
he remembered. He was fairly sure that he needed to stay with the woman, to go as far with her as he could, if he wanted his thoughts and personality back completely.
It made a certain amount of sense, he thought. Mating with the woman would cure the animal part of him. It would make him a man, as if he had gone through a second adolescence.
The woman was peering into his eyes. “I shouldn’t let you do this. If I do, I’m like some sort of rapist.”
“No,” he said.
Her eyes widened. “You… you’re talking again.”
“I need you,” he murmured. “It’s hard to explain, but you have to let me…” He slid his hands underneath her shirt again. Just like last night, her skin was a wonder, so soft and feminine. She was all delicious curves, and he wanted her body wrapped around his. He kissed her again.
She pushed him away. “How are you talking?”
He rolled over, his body on hers again. Boldly, he tugged her shirt up again, pushing her bra aside again. He lowered his mouth to her lovely nipples. He kissed her, suckled her, spoke against her flesh. “I’ll tell you later, but for now, please let me be with you.”
She let out a strangled gasp. “But…”
He thrust a hand between her legs, running over the tight fabric of her leggings—he liked the way they clung to her like a second skin, showing off all the places that she dipped and swelled. He found the center of her there, hot through her clothes, and he rubbed his fingertips against her mound. Not too hard, not too soft.
She groaned.
That was it. He knew he could get her to stop talking.
She writhed on the ground, her back arching.
He put his mouth on her nipples again.
She moaned. She sunk her hands into his hair.
He felt triumphant. He scissored his legs around one of her soft thighs and pressed his growing erection into her giving flesh. He loved the way this woman felt against him. She was so feminine and sweet, so lush and sexy. He was going to make love to her, and he was going to take back his manhood. Nothing could be more primal or right.
* * *
Calla was dizzy with sensation. Ryder’s mouth was dancing back and forth between her erect nipples, teasing and tasting them, driving her into a frenzy of pleasure. His hand was between her legs, stimulating her there as well. She had never been touched quite like this before. There was so much attentiveness to her body, and she felt as if there was such reverence in the way that Ryder was touching her. He was obviously attracted, and Calla hadn’t felt attractive in a very long time.
Even in the beginning with Chad, it had never been like this. Chad wasn’t much for foreplay. She was always having to beg him for more.
So this… this was like a sumptuous buffet, and every part of her body felt lit up, like she’d been plugged into electricity, and her pleasure was sparking out all her nerve endings.
She undulated her hips against his hand, sighed as he nipped at her breasts. She wanted him to peel off her leggings and panties. She wanted to be naked with him, both of their bodies bare. She could feel him pressing into her leg, hard and thick. He wanted her, and she wanted him.
He was a gorgeous man. Being with him would heal something inside her, something that had broken when Chad left her, and so what if he was some kind of strange animal creature who couldn’t speak. He clearly had a certain sensual intelligence that more than made up for—
Wait.
She lifted her head. “You’re talking.”
“Mmm,” he said. He put his lips against her lips, and he shifted on top of her. Now his hands were on her leggings, tugging at them.
Oh, God, this was what she wanted. She wanted to make love to him, let him make love to her. She had never wanted anything more in her entire life, or so it seemed to her in that moment. She put her hands on his chest, which was bare, always bare, and she explored the sculpted glory of his arms and chest. He was perfect. Too perfect.
He was having trouble with her leggings.
She lifted her hips, trying to help him.
He tugged again, yanking them down over her stomach.
She could see herself jiggling, and it made her feel self-conscious. She tried to cover herself.
He pushed her hands out of the way. “I want to see you.”
“Why are you talking?” she said.
“It’s because of you.” His mouth was on her breasts again.
She gasped. Oh everything about him was too good. This was some kind of strange dream, maybe. She must have fallen asleep out by the fire pit. She’d wake to see Ryder lying next to her, whining like an animal.
But he was over her now, hulking and beautiful, his mouth on her, wrenching pleasure from her. This didn’t seem like a dream.
“God,” he said in a hoarse voice. “You have to be the sexiest woman…” His mouth trailed down her torso, down to her belly button. With his other hand, he gave a mighty heave at her leggings…
And they tore.
She let out a little noise of surprise.
Ryder ripped the rest of the fabric. “Damn it. I liked the way those hugged your ass.”
She scrambled away from him. This was insane. She wanted him. She did. But none of this made sense. She tugged her shirt down, covering herself. “Just hold on a minute.”
He looked annoyed. “What are you doing?”
“It’s only that we’re getting very… intimate… and I barely know… How did you start talking? Could you talk all this time and you’ve been acting like an animal because… because…” She couldn’t think of any reason someone would do that.
“Come here.” His voice rumbled deep in his chest. “We can talk about all this in a little bit. We can talk about this until the cows come home. I have a feeling I’m not going to want to shut up. But first, you have to let me…” He seemed to struggle to find words. “Let me fuck you.”
Her eyes widened.
He winced. “See, I’m already losing it. We’re not touching, and I’m losing it. I should have known not to use that word.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Come here.” He reached over and grabbed her wrist. He yanked her back across the tent, and his hands were inside her shirt again.
“No, don’t.” Now, she was feeling annoyed. She wanted to talk this out, and then there could be as much raw footage as he wanted. But he couldn’t force her to do this. She slapped at his hands. “Let go of me,” she said in her best angry-teacher voice.
He nuzzled her neck, searching for her breasts under her shirt. “Please. Please, I need this. And you’re so pretty.”
She put a hand against his chest and shoved. It was like trying to shove a boulder. “It just shouldn’t be so fast. Do you understand that?”
“It has to be,” he muttered, and one of his hands had strayed to the band of her underwear.
She slapped his hand away. “Stop!” She was starting to feel real panic now. She wanted this man, but he really was a stranger to her, and he was so much bigger than her. If he wanted to hurt her…
He thrust his hand into her panties.
And she went frantic, pushing at him—using her arms and feet. She needed to make him stop.
* * *
Ryder smelled the shift in her, the dulling of arousal and the rise of fear. He backed off immediately, retreating to a corner of the tent. He wouldn’t do anything to her if she felt like that, but he couldn’t help but feel frustrated. He needed to be close to this woman in order to get back his humanity, and he didn’t know how to communicate that to her. Every time he tried, she somehow stopped him from getting it across. He needed to try again.
He showed her both his hands, palms facing her, hoping that gesture would let her see that he wasn’t trying to touch her anymore.
Red-faced and out of breath, she stopped struggling and looked at him.
He sighed. She really did look amazing, her ample bosom heaving, her legs bare, her hair falling in her face. His unattended erectio
n throbbed.
“Listen to me,” he said.
“You ripped my leggings,” she said.
“I’m sorry about that.” Seriously, at a time like this, that was what she wanted to bring up? “It’s very important that you let me continue what we were doing.”
“I don’t think so.” She drew herself up, looking self-important. “I don’t have to let you do anything to me.”
“I know you don’t have to, but I was hoping that you would anyway. It’s the only way that I’ll be able to keep talking to you.”
“I don’t understand what you mean,” she said. “All I wanted you to do was to talk to me. I need answers. Why are you able to talk now, when you weren’t before?”
“I don’t know exactly,” he said. “But it’s all connected, don’t you see? If you and I are…” The word evaded him. Damn it. He was losing it again. He needed to make love to her. He was sure that was the only way to cement his human side forever. He shut his eyes. “Are… close, then…” Damn it, damn it, damn it, he was losing the words again!
“So when you aren’t talking, what are you then? Do you really think you’re a wolf then?”
“Yes,” he said. “Kind of. I know that I’m not…” He trailed off searching for words again. Desperate, he shook himself. “Please, let me touch you again. If I’m not touching you, I can’t… can’t… fuck.”
She pursed her lips. “You know what I think? I think maybe you’ve been pretending all along, and now you think that you can use your innocent I’m-just-your-pet-Rover act to get me to spread my legs for you. Well, it isn’t going to work. So, get out of the tent.”
He sputtered. “What?”
“I don’t even want to look at you anymore.”
“I’m not pretending. And I’m not leaving the tent.”
“You have to.”
“No, I don’t.” Part of him wanted to tackle her and get his mouth back on her nipples again. He was quite sure that she’d be cooperative if he was pleasuring her. The wolf part of him thought that was a good idea. Just push her far enough, and she’d yield to him, and all would be well.
Midnight Moonlight Page 10
