Gwen stood completely still as Zander toyed with her hair with a look of concentration on his face, like he was utterly absorbed by it. Her mouth twitched. “You’re making me think of a cat with a ball of yarn.”
His eyes slid to hers. “A cat?” He gave a slight punishing tug on her hair.
“Ow.” But she chuckled. She got the feeling they were . . . playing. She knew shifters loved to play.
Zander brought her hair to his face and inhaled deeply. Vanilla and coconut. “Smells almost as good as your scent.”
“I’m not going to ask what I smell like.” But she was curious.
“You smell . . . tempting.” Zander hadn’t meant to growl it, but it was hard not to when the spice of need was currently warming her scent. Even his wolf was affected.
“Tempting? That must be weird for you, considering you’re gay.”
“What?”
She winced. “Sorry, were you planning to stay in the closet a while longer? I won’t tell anyone, I swear. Although, honestly, you shouldn’t be embarrassed to tell people. There’s nothing wrong with being gay.”
Zander almost gaped. “I’m not gay.” Where the fuck had she gotten that idea?
“Okay.”
He clenched his jaw at her placatory tone. “I’m not gay.”
“Like I said, okay. We can forget this conversation ever happened.”
Zander pressed his body against hers, shoving his rock-hard cock against her. “If I was gay, would I want to take you upstairs to my room and fuck you raw? Would I want to know what every inch of you tastes like?”
Gwen swallowed, taken aback. “I guess it would depend on how gay you were.” Right then, there was something on his face she’d never expected to see—sheer unadulterated need. Just that look had her senses flaring to life.
“Not gay, Gwen. But I should still let you walk away.” Zander didn’t like getting involved with humans. They didn’t always understand the ways of shifters. They didn’t always understand that casual sex wasn’t taboo to his kind, which meant that humans sometimes read more into it. Also, shifter sex could be rough and intense; humans were physically weaker and could be hurt easily.
None of those things held him back at that moment. It was something else. Something he couldn’t quite name—a primitive warning of danger that made no sense but sure as fuck gave him pause. Still, as she stared back at him with eyes that glittered with a need that matched his own, it was so fucking hard to let her go. Somehow, he managed to force his hands to release her hair, but it was a few moments before he could force himself to back up.
Gwen rolled back her shoulders, a little shaken by the heat in his eyes and just how much it seemed to physically hurt that he’d let go, but she wouldn’t let him see that. “Have a good night and enjoy your run.”
Zander narrowed his eyes. The words were cool, calm . . . like he hadn’t just had her trapped between him and the fridge. Like there wasn’t so much sexual tension in the air that it sat heavy on his chest. And that just pissed him off.
He took in her scent, needing it even as it drove him crazy. The spice of arousal was still there, just as compelling as the tension that pulsed between them. A tension that was electric. Hot. Basic. So powerful, it was crushing. It had him in a tight grip and was heating his blood like a fever, making his cock so hard it hurt. And as her even pearly-white teeth dug into that lower lip he wanted to bite, something in him just snapped.
“Fuck.” He was on her, hands sifting through her hair as he ravaged her mouth. She tasted of coffee and cream, and he needed more. He angled her head, going deeper, exploring every crevice of her mouth. She kissed him back, fingers digging into his shoulders . . . but there was a hesitancy there—he didn’t like it, wanted it gone.
Growling, he snaked his hand under her thigh and curled her leg around him, groaning at the feel of that soft skin. He rocked his hips into hers, grinding his cock against her, swallowing her gasp. She didn’t shy away. She tightened her leg around him, drawing him closer. Yeah, that was what he wanted.
Fuck, he couldn’t get enough of her taste. Couldn’t stop touching her. She had to use some kind of lotion because he’d never felt skin this soft. He wanted to lick it. Suck it. Mark it. Wanted to be sure no other male dared to touch her.
Gwen let her head fall back as he kissed his way down to her neck. She gasped as his teeth grazed her pulse. Then he bit it. Hard. Was he marking her? She hoped not. She didn’t entirely understand the whole marking thing, but she knew shifters were possessive beings, and they marked what they didn’t want to share. It should have snapped her out of the sexual fog, but she was too far gone.
She’d never known anything like this. Zander didn’t kiss, he feasted. Every flick of his tongue, every nip of his teeth, every tug on her hair, every knowing touch of his hands—it was all a ruthless demand for more. No one had ever made her feel so wanted, so needed.
His powerful body was aggressive and dominant as it pushed against hers, crowding her, reminding her how much stronger he was. But she wasn’t scared. Her frustrated body screamed with the need for more. His touch somehow both soothed the ache and drove her wild.
Hell, no wonder there were shifter groupies out there. She no longer judged them. At all.
Zander snapped open the buttons of her shorts, shoved his hand down her panties, and smoothly thrust a finger inside her. He groaned. “So fucking wet.” Curving his finger just right, he worked her pussy hard, greedily swallowing every moan, loving the way she clawed at his back. “Come for me, Gwen. Come hard. Now.” He caught her strangled cry with his mouth. As her slick pussy rippled around his finger, he wished like fuck he was deep inside her. He had to have her right then.
Gwen’s heart jumped as she heard him unzipping his fly. Awesome. She was about to shove down her shorts and panties when a chiming sound filled the room. Zander swore against her mouth.
She blinked, dazed, as he backed up and fished his phone out of his pocket. And as the lust fogging her mind completely cleared, she wanted to curse. She was in her kitchen, where anyone could walk in and see her having a fumble against the fridge. Not smart. But, honestly, she probably wouldn’t be regretting it if it wasn’t for the way her throbbing pussy ached to be filled and fucked.
She fastened her fly and, hoping to look dignified, wiped all emotion from her face as she calmly said, “I’ll leave you to take your call.”
Zander watched as she walked past him, the image of nonchalance. “I’m gonna want more, Gwen.” She didn’t even break stride—just headed down the hallway and up the stairs. Cursing, he looked down to see Nick’s name flashing on the screen of his cell. Zander answered, “Yeah?”
“Thought you might want to know that, as you predicted, Rory’s being an asshole.”
Fuck.
The next morning, footsteps along the tiled kitchen floor were quickly followed by a dreamy sigh. “Damn, Devlin has a great butt.”
Returning spices to the revolving spice rack, Gwen flicked Marlon a brief glance. “Mmm-hmm.”
“And those abs are impressive—you can see them right through his shirt. I briefly considered spilling coffee on him to see if he’d whip it off and I could get a good look at what was beneath.”
Gwen widened her eyes. “You might want to lower your volume,” she hissed. “The guy’s a shifter; he could hear you.”
“Over the dishwasher and the range-hood fan? I don’t think so. I do think you should jump him.”
She did a double take. “I’m sorry?”
He shrugged. “In your shoes, I would have. Gwen, the guy likes you.”
Grabbing the broom, she began to sweep the floor as she quietly spoke. “I thought he was gay.”
Marlon looked at her like she’d suggested stripping naked and having a mud fight. “Why would you think that?”
“He barely paid any attention to Julie. That’s not normal.”
Marlon’s expression softened. “Aw, sweetie, not all guys want to use you to
get to Julie.”
“I know that. But he didn’t even take a moment to ogle her. What straight male wouldn’t be attracted to Julie?”
“She’s beautiful, sure, but so are you. Julie’s beautiful in an in-your-face way. With you, it’s more understated, but it’s still there. Me and Julie always say we wish we had your eyes. And your skin—it tans easy and looks so smooth.” He gave her a stern look. “I don’t like that you put yourself down.”
“I’m not doing that. I don’t think I’m ugly, but I know I’m not beautiful either. I’m not the kind of girl who’s someone’s type. Zander could have anyone. Until last night, he didn’t show a lick of interest in me.”
His eyes twinkled, and she wanted to slap herself for saying too much. Marlon skidded into her space. “What happened last night?”
“Nothing.”
“Gwen, don’t make me ask Zander. You know I will.”
He so would. “It was just a kiss. No big deal.”
“No big deal? And yet, you’re avoiding him this morning.”
“I am not.” She totally was.
“And you ate junk food for breakfast—you only do that when something’s bugging you. On a side note, you need to find another form of comfort. I’ve told you before, you are what you eat.”
She threw him a dirty look. “That must be why you’re such a dick.”
“Ho, ho, ho, that was bitchy.” He kissed her cheek, laughing. “You’re all prickly because you don’t like how close to the truth I am. Admit it, the kiss was a big deal.”
“It was not.”
“Then go collect whatever empty plates or mugs are left. I’ll finish cleaning up.” It was a dare.
She straightened her shirt and handed him the broom. “Okay. I will.”
“Of course you will, because it was no big deal.” He swept out a hand toward the doorway. Bastard.
Grabbing a tray, she headed into the dining room.
“Rory did what?”
Zander forked his last piece of bacon. “Put firecrackers in one of the large tin barrels around the construction site—the echoes were loud, and the builders thought it was gunshots and dove for cover.” And since the construction site was the pack’s partially built motel, all the Mercury members were exceptionally pissed. Particularly since the sounds could be heard from the main lodge and had terrified the pups.
The pack had done the emergency drill, hiding the weaker members while the others went to deal with the threat . . . only to realize that someone had been fucking with them. Knowing Rory as well as he did, Zander suspected the guy had watched from afar as the pack rallied to fight. He’d no doubt found it hilarious.
Bracken chugged down some coffee. “Nick’s sure it was Rory?”
“Caught him on the security cameras.” The pack had cameras all over their territory. “Jesse watched the footage. The figure was dressed in black, wearing a cap and sunglasses, but he’s pretty sure it was Rory. There’s no other person who’d want to toy with us for their own amusement.” That was what Rory was doing—it was what he always did when he didn’t get his way. He’d keep on doing it until he did get his way.
“Fucker. Has he been detained yet?”
Zander ate his bacon before answering. “Derren, Ally, and Jesse went to his address, but he wasn’t there. His closet and drawers were empty, and the apartment was a mess. It looked like he’d packed up and left in a hurry.”
“He’s probably staying in a hotel somewhere.” Bracken leaned back in his chair. “I doubt he’s still here in Oregon. It makes no sense for him to go back and forth. I doubt he knows you’re still here either, or he’d play his games near the B&B.”
Zander’s gaze sliced to the doorway as Gwen entered. Instantly, the memory of their little encounter leaped to his mind. His cock twitched as he recalled her taste, her raspy moans, how hot her pussy was, and the feel of her body perfectly molded to his.
He’d dreamed of her last night, dreamed of his hands fisted in her hair as he fucked her hard and deep. It had felt unbelievably real. But then he’d woken, full and aching—and seriously pissed off that it had been no more than a dream.
Bracken exhaled heavily. “Okay, what did you do?”
Zander slowly cut his gaze back to him. “Do?”
“Yesterday, you were looking at her like you wanted to know what she tasted like. Now you’re looking at her like you already know, and you just want another taste.”
“I didn’t fuck her.” But it hadn’t been for lack of trying.
“I didn’t ask what you didn’t do.”
“Drop it, Brack.”
“I told you not to start anything with her.”
“And we both know you were using reverse psychology.”
Bracken looked ready to object, but then he sighed. “All right, maybe I did want you to make a move on her—eventually, when things had settled down. Now is not a good time. And you should bear in mind that she’s human. She may not have the same casual attitude toward sex that we do, and she’s not used to our level of intensity. As dominant males go, you’re not very controlling. You keep yourself tightly controlled, but that’s different. Still, my guess is you’ll seem very demanding and controlling to Gwen, since she’s not used to our ways. You’ll need to take things slow.”
Maybe he was right, but Zander knew there was no point in fighting himself on this or in trying to make himself wait for her. It wouldn’t work. He was too fucking hungry for her.
He needed to know what every inch of her tasted like, how it felt to be deep inside her, and just how good those legs would feel curled around him. In his dream, he’d watched her come, heard her scream. That wasn’t enough. It was never going to be enough. He wanted the real thing.
“You’re not going to back off, are you?”
“No.” It was too late for that.
Bracken pushed his empty plate aside. “I have to wonder what it’s like to be a person who’s so sure of their choices. Once you make up your mind, you never doubt your decision. You stick with it. Normally, I admire that. But in this instance, you’ve made the wrong decision, and you need to reevaluate it.” He leaned forward. “Give her some space. Revisit the whole thing later.”
Draining his coffee mug, Zander placed it on the coaster. “Are you done now?”
“Look, I get that you’re your own man, but she’s—”
“You’re done.”
“I’m not, actually. What about your wolf? You can’t tell me he’s going to like your decision.”
“He’s not pushing me to leave her alone. He’s not interfering at all . . . it’s like he’s detached himself from the situation.” And Zander was baffled by it. “You could be worrying for nothing. She might not want to be involved with anyone right now.”
“No,” allowed Bracken, “but rejection doesn’t faze you.”
He was right. Zander couldn’t recall ever being personally threatened by criticism or rejection. He was comfortable with who he was, despite his faults.
Jasmine, orange blossoms, and wild berries.
The scent swirled around him moments before Gwen appeared at the table, tray in hand . . . and his wolf returned to his hidey hole.
“Morning,” she said with a smile, but it was that formal smile that he didn’t like. She stacked the plates and cutlery on the tray, cool as a fucking cucumber. No nervousness, no awkwardness, no blushing. Her hands were perfectly steady, her expression was calm, and her voice was even. And damn if that didn’t rankle. Zander wanted her to be as affected as he was.
“More coffee?” she asked.
“I’m good,” said Bracken.
Zander gave a quick shake of the head before asking, “You working at Half ’n’ Half tonight?”
“Nope. I only work there three days a week.” Then she was gone.
Smiling, Bracken sank into his chair. “Huh. Well, whatever happened between you two doesn’t seem to be on her radar, does it?” Ignoring Zander’s glare, he went on, “Damn, it s
eems like you didn’t make much of an impression, Z. You must be losing your touch.”
Zander glowered at him. “You always were an annoying motherfucker.”
“Hey, is that any way to speak to one of your best friends?”
“Couldn’t care less.”
Bracken just chuckled.
A little while later, Zander went into the kitchen to find Gwen with a small sheet of paper clamped between her lips as she slipped on a jacket. “Where are you going?”
She took the paper out of her mouth. “Grocery shopping.”
He nodded. “Then let’s go.” Before she could object, he added, “Bracken will stay here in case the Moores show up.” Zander wanted time alone with her.
Behind him, Bracken said, “I will?”
“You will.”
“I will.” But Bracken didn’t sound happy about it.
Gwen shook her head. “That’s okay. I’ll be fine.”
“We’re here to look out for you, remember,” said Zander.
Apparently uninterested in arguing with him, she waved a hand. “Fine. Whatever. Let’s just go.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Why did she always end up with the cart that had squeaky wheels?
Chewing the tiny cube of cake she’d gotten from a sample station, Gwen pushed the half-full cart down the aisle. Zander walked beside her, a silent sentinel. And she . . . well, she was pretty much acting as if she were alone.
It was rude, sure, but she suspected that the reason he wanted Bracken to stay behind was so that he could talk about last night. He probably wanted to ensure she understood that the little fumble they’d had in the kitchen didn’t mean anything, that she shouldn’t read anything into it. And how embarrassing would that conversation be?
In the car, she’d spoken only to give him directions to the grocery store. She’d stayed quiet, hoping he’d see that she didn’t need a talk, and that she wasn’t mistaking the fumble for anything other than a drunken mishap. God knew she’d had plenty of those herself over the years. He’d get no judgment from her.
Humming along with the music coming through the speakers, she did her best to drown out the irritating squeaky wheels. If she could just—
Lure of Oblivion (Mercury Pack Book 3) Page 10
