by Thalia Eames
Her bra didn’t fare as well as her top. Garrett lifted the straps with his index fingers and growled. Yanking up and out he snapped the straps off with a pop. Metal fastenings flew in two directions. Dissatisfied Garrett growled again, reached around her and ripped her bra closures away from her heated body. The ruined fabric drifted down to the floor.
They watched it fall together. Then Garrett’s hungry gaze fastened on her breasts. “Damn.” He breathed the word slowly. Using the curve leading from his thumb to his index finger, he pushed her breasts up and jiggled them. The pure masculine energy in the action and the way his eyes lit up sent a convulsion through her womb. Her clit throbbed for him.
She grabbed him by the front of his shirt and pulled him between her legs. Lust sealed their bodies together. His hard length strained through his jeans, rubbing against her swollen need. “Garrett, please.” Her hands made quick work of pulling his shirt over his head. Before she could enjoy the view he leaned in and sucked one of her nipples between his lips. Her legs wrapped tight around his waist. Her hands slid into his hair and held on as pleasure threatened to wash her away.
His mouth was everything. Everything she’d dreamed of. Every juicy sensation a tongue could give claimed one breast, then the other. Her body arched into his mouth and he gave her more pleasure, more heat, driving her into a frenzy.
“Garrett, please.” She couldn’t stop saying those words, couldn’t stop begging him. He leaned back. She almost protested but this gave her the view of his naked chest she craved. “Dammit, man.”
In college he’d been athletic but boyish. Early thirties maturity had chiseled his body into pure man, rock-hard pecks with a dark sheen of hair across them, six-pack abs she wanted to explore with her tongue and—
A gunshot wound. Someone had shot him.
She cried out and slid off the countertop into his arms. “Not now, Elle,” he murmured into her hair, seemingly begging her.
Lennox pushed his arms away. “Shh, let me see.” She leaned in. The skin of the wound stretched in a shiny misshapen circle. “Oh no, Garrett.” She circled around him to look at his back, hissing at the thought of the pain he must have gone through. The exit wound stood out in angry relief against his skin, the damage far worse than the front—his flesh rippled and furrowed with the memory of the bullet.
She covered both the entry and exit wounds with the palms of her hands as though she could heal them with the force of her will. Feeling helpless, she rained kisses over his biceps from behind, desperately needing to comfort him.
Tremors rippled across the muscles in his back. “Let it go for now, Elle.” She’d never seen him tremble. The Garrett she knew hadn’t stomached weakness. Yet, his vulnerability didn’t disillusion her. It made him more of a man, more real and honest. She wanted to protect him. Knowing someone shot him while he’d been away from her meant she couldn’t let it go. Someone had hurt him and it broke her heart.
“Tell me what happened.”
“No.” He looked up at the ceiling rather than at her.
She placed another kiss on his upper arm, trying hard to imbue it with all the tenderness she felt. “Tell me.”
Their eyes met and held. He shook his head again before leaning down. He kissed her so gently her knees buckled. “It’s a story for another day. Right now I want to be inside you. I want to hear you call my name when you come. And I want to leave you panting for more.”
He swung her around to face him and filled his hands with her breasts. Her nipples came to life at his heated touch. “Okay?” he asked.
“Okay.” She nodded.
His fingers found the zip at the back on her skirt. The metal grazed her skin as it came down. Smiling in an I’m-going-to-do-you-so-good way he slid his hands under either side of her panties and took them down. His palms caressed her hips along the way. He paused. A puzzled look overtook his features. “What’s that?” he asked, tracing the shape of her scar. Without warning, he bent her forward to have a look. “Who did this?”
“It’s the scar from the dog bite I got when I was a kid. I told you about that.”
Lennox couldn’t see his face but she could feel his gaze examining the scar. “That is not a dog bite,” Garrett gritted out.
“Of course it is.”
He stood her on her feet. “I’ve got to go.”
“What do you mean?” she sputtered. He ignored her, concentrating on finding his shirt. Once he located it, he snatched it off the floor, buttoned his jeans and slipped the shirt on.
She blanched. “What just happened? A dog bit me. So what?”
He might not have heard her. He’d turned away and stalked toward the door. “I told you. That isn’t a dog bite.” He looked over his shoulder once he’d opened the door.
“You’re going to let all of this go to waste?” She gestured at her very nude and, if she had to admit it, pretty damn sexy body.
At least he had the good grace to look wistful before saying, “For now, yes.” He bent over to pick up his car key. “Call Cash and tell him I said to pick you up and take you to your truck. I’ll see you at the house.”
Lennox balled her hands into fists and banged them against her thighs. This was not happening. Frustration brought out the smart-ass in her. “Don’t tell me what to do or when to do it. You might be Nox’s daddy but you ain’t mine.”
He turned on her for the second time that day. Before she blinked he crossed the room. She jumped at his sudden appearance in front of her. “How did you—”
“Shh.” He ran the pad of his thumb over her lips. Once she’d quieted, he dropped down to his knees. Kneeling in front of her, he placed a kiss onto her mound. Oh god, it felt amazing. Then he licked her cleft with a darting tongue. Better than amazing. Her womb pulsed so hard she collapsed against the counter.
Garrett reached beneath her legs with both arms and lifted, somehow hooking her knees into the crooks of his arms as he stood. At counter height he laid her down and buried his face between her folds. He kissed her womanhood with a delving tongue. She grabbed the top of his head, opening her legs wider, inviting him deeper. Instead, he licked up to her clit and sucked the throbbing bundle of nerves into his mouth. A shockwave of pleasure rolled over her. She whimpered as another and another followed. Her mind turned to mush. Garrett’s mouth was the whole world. No other space or time existed. Until he slid two fingers into her welcoming warmth and the universe opened up for her.
He rolled his fingers around in three languorous circuits. Her womb clenched and released as he moved inside her. Then he began pumping in and out in delicious thrusts. She died. She knew this because she saw a white light and tumbled into it, knowing for sure heaven existed.
She came, wet and wanton, her legs flung over either side of the counter, his hair clutched between her fingers while she cried out his name.
Oh my god.
Garrett lifted his head. With the hint of a smile, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Who’s your daddy now?”
Chapter Fourteen
Garrett sped down Somers Field Road with one thing on his mind. He’d have to kill him. That’s it. That’s all. The man deserved to die and Garrett planned to hand deliver his ass to the angels or to hell. Didn’t matter which.
He dropped the accelerator, pushing the car towards one hundred miles per hour. Adrenaline filled his head with white noise. His muscles thickened and bulked. The razor edge of his canines lengthened, filling his mouth.
The wolf didn’t care about the man’s anger. The wolf claimed mating rights. The woman belonged to him for as long as they both chose it. The interloper needed to be shown. The disrespect of another wolf marking his woman with his fangs and scent would be paid in kind. His ancestors might have ripped his rival’s guts out. He wouldn’t go that far. He’d merely rip his pretty face off.
Garrett turn
ed hard on a dirt road, sending a wave of dust into the air under his speeding wheels. Shortcut. He’d get there faster. Fight sooner.
The roadster blurred past tour buses and vans lining the long drive to the vineyard. The scent of ripe grapes fueled him on. He’d entered enemy territory. Soon. Soon he’d draw first blood.
The sight of his rival nearly made him howl. He barely noticed the score of enraptured ladies following behind their paperback hero. He wouldn’t hurt them. Never. But they should stay well out of his way. He dropped the clutch and turned the wheel hard, sliding sideways into a screeching stop.
Women’s shouts blended with the sound of shredded grass beneath him. He pulled himself out of the car through the open window. Not bothering with the door. The interloper stormed forward. Indignant. Blue eyes filled with lightning. Garrett drew back and cold cocked his rival. The crack of knuckles pounding bone satisfied the wolf in him. Ian blasted through the air, skidded along the grass and nearly tumbled head over end. Breaking the momentum with a twist of his body, Ian turned and crouched to spring. Gasps sounded around them.
“You marked her,” Garrett bellowed.
His rival stilled. Breathing hard, he wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth. The two alphas stared each other down for an eternity. Digital cameras and mobile phones clicked around them. Garrett didn’t care if he ended up splashed across the entire Internet. He’d settle things now. Ian’s survival was optional.
“You get one freebie, Wolfman. The next time I fight back.” Ian relaxed, lowering himself to sit on the lawn. “I didn’t mean to mark her. I was twelve years old. Completely out of control. You know what that’s like.”
Garrett flexed his fingers. It took everything he had not to extend his claws. “No. I don’t. I’m always in control.”
“Well, yippee ki yay, mother fucker,” Ian growled. “I can’t do that with her. She makes me wild.” His shoulders rose and fell with rage.
Garrett leaned forward, prepared to pounce. “You taught her to be afraid.” The words scratched his throat in a cold rasp. “You hunted her down and bit her. Now neither of us can show her our true selves because you filled her with fear.”
“I know,” Ian roared. “My mistake damns me every day.” He sprang to his feet and paced forward. Then he slowed, sniffing the air. Puzzlement dissipated his rage. “Is she here?” He looked around and sniffed again.
Garrett unleashed a slow smirk. Ian cocked his head to one side. Understanding dawned and renewed rage flushed Ian’s cheeks. “You touched her.” He barely breathed past the words. “You dared to touch her.”
Straightening, Garrett widened his smirk. “Barely. But I can promise you there’ll come a night when I’ll have all of her. Then I won’t give a damn about your mark anymore. I won’t be thinking about you. Best of all, neither will she.”
Ian launched into the air. Garrett caught him by the neck with one arm and tossed the man over his head. Ian bashed into the tree line. Bouncing off the ground, he pounced back. Garrett tackled him around the waist, hurtling them both into the woods. Beyond the sight of their breathless audience, they clashed. Fists flew. Claws extended to full length. Tree trunks shredded. Jawlines elongated. Fangs gnashed. And blood droplets stained green leaves red.
Ian brought an elbow up into Garrett’s chin. The blow nearly knocked his head off. Pain exploded along his jaw. Garrett returned the favor with a gut punch that would have impaled a human. Ian woofed, staggering backward. They came together again, each taking their toll on the other with blow after blow.
In a deft maneuver, Garrett lifted Ian overhead and body slammed him onto a stone outcropping. The rock cracked under the pressure. Ian barely seemed to feel it, he brought his legs up, hooked them around Garrett’s neck and flipped the bigger man to the other side. Leaping over the jutting rock, Ian landed on Garrett. He rained several punishing strikes before Garrett jammed a thumb into the back of Ian’s knee. Ian twisted and fell. They rose as one. Their hands found each other’s throats and squeezed. Black spots overtook Garrett’s vision. He didn’t relent. Neither did his rival. But Garrett knew he’d win. In a battle of dominance his wolfblood was stronger, older than Ian’s. He could beat the blue-eyed red wolf whenever he wanted.
A stone grip landed on Garrett’s shoulder, nearly crushing it. It yanked him backward so hard he flew into the wooden fence flanking the vineyard. Only the grapevines on the other side cushioned his fall. Ian went flying in the opposite direction, crashing into the low hanging branches of a tree before he hit the ground.
Sheriff Stan the Exterminator stood midway between them, glowering. “I won’t have this.” His gruff voice carried. “You two either let Lennox decide or you settle things with honor, the old-school way. Pick one. What you won’t do is endanger lives in my town.”
Garrett got up, panting and mad as hell. Ian did the same on the other side of the sheriff. The lawman pointed at them both. The edge in his voice turned deadly. “You two test me and I’ll take you both down myself.” He bulked, turning away from the awed eyes of the tour group peering through the trees. Stan’s lower jaw filled with tusks as he spun. A cold glint flared in his eyes. “Believe me.”
Chapter Fifteen
Aggravation pained Garratt—sea salt in an open wound. He let his wolf run wild in the woods. Jumping over rocks and under trees. Tasting the scents of wildlife on his tongue, he hunted deer for the first time in years. He brought the animals down so fast they never had a moment to fear. His huge, gray wolf ruled Averdeen land for hours, but the time spent alone didn’t blunt the lethal edge of his rage. It actually sharpened it. His wolf managed to scare one of Lennox’s neighbors and he seriously considered ripping out the man’s throat when the neighbor fired his shotgun into the night.
If he could get into the diner to cook it might temper him, but he’d likely serve Ian up as quickly as he’d serve a side of bacon. Bacon. Yeah, Sheriff Stan would start howling for Ian’s blood too if he knew the LuPines wolfen alpha had been the one to stalk Lennox, bite her, and make her afraid of anything canine.
Cool darkness and quiet greeted Garrett when he stepped into his house through the door from the garage. Blue light and the sounds of television drew him to the family room where his second-in-command had fallen asleep in the middle of a late-night movie—one of the last films Cash had done as a working stuntman by the looks of it.
Cash’s right knee rested on a stack of pillows. It’d been four years and the pain still refused to yield. It constantly shadowed Cash despite his easy smile. A human would’ve lost their leg after taking a sniper bullet. But calling Cash lucky when he’d lost so much seemed an asshole thing to do.
Garrett traced the edge of his own gunshot scar. Neither of them had been lucky. The white-hot steam of rage made his eyes water. He gripped the doorframe but released it when the wood began to crack.
On the way to his bedroom he passed Nox’s door. Although he heard the faint bleeps of a game, his son’s breathing told him he’d fallen asleep a while ago.
In two days Garrett would have to send Nox off to a camp filled with wolfen, the very people he’d spent his adult life avoiding. Nothing good came out of wolf packs. They either devoured themselves from the inside or the outside world came calling and destroyed them.
Jagged breaths ripped through his chest as memories bombarded his mind. All of this trouble came about because Ian kept forcing everyone else’s hand—Lennox’s fear, Nox suddenly having to face Garrett’s wolfen bloodline, a heritage that would only bring him pain. All of it rested at Ian’s feet.
Garrett turned away from his son’s door and tore through his own. The scent of peaches and brown sugar blended with a subtle edge of desire brought him up short.
Lennox stood from her spot on the side of his bed. Candlelight danced across her body, illuminating the men’s dress shirt she wore with nothing else. Her hair tumbled around her shoulders,
light sifting through the curls in a halo; her long legs glowed in the lamplight.
His gaze dropped to the jeweled polish on her toes, glided up her killer legs, and rested on the blue ink staining the hem of her shirt. Recognition sparked.
On the morning he’d won the Young Filmmakers Fellowship, at school, he’d broken the ink pen his uncle had given him for luck. The accident and loss of the pen flustered him to no end. He’d been helpless, frustrated and anxious all at once. Lennox had looked at the clock, at his blue-specked shirt, and back to the clock. Shaking her head, she had unzipped his pants, tucked the still wet fabric in, kissed him on the tip of his nose, then sent him on his way. Otherwise he’d have been late. Hell, without that fellowship he might not have made the connections that allowed him to build Zephyr Studios into such a success.
If it were possible to feel a glow, he felt one spread through his chest, lighting him up from the inside.
Lennox kept his shirt all these years. She wore it to bed. She dreamed with her memories of him wrapped around her.
Holding his gaze, she slowly undid the dress-shirt buttons that had been his and now belonged to her. As the material parted he caught a tantalizing glimpse of the wonderland waiting for him beneath.
The wolf took over, staring out at Elle through his eyes. And he rushed her.
Garrett crashed into her, his hand on her breast, his mouth hot on her neck. Lennox welcomed him, opened her arms and pressed him closer. They fell onto the bed in a wild tangle of limbs and kisses. His hands left her while his mouth continued to devour hers. He tasted of dark chocolate and morning rain. Intoxicating. She heard fabric ripping but barely registered his clothes coming off until his bare thigh pushed hers apart. He growled and pulled himself away.
