Impulse sa-5

by Moira Rogers

  She shivered. “Letting go is how you drown.”

  He still had the taste of her on his tongue. “Not letting go isn’t worth it.”

  “No one’s ever caught me.” Her whole damn body trembled with nervous energy. “Last time I let go, I fell forever.”

  Her eyes were deep and still despite all that energy. “Does that mean you’re going to hold back now?” he asked.

  She fought the grip on her hair, tugged against it until she could nuzzle his chin. Not a very human gesture, and he could feel the feral edge of her coyote beneath the surface. “I don’t know how to let go a little. Don’t ask for it if you don’t really want it. It’ll change this trip. It’ll change everything.”

  It sounded like an ultimatum and a promise. It sounded like a warning. “We’ll find out,” he whispered. “Tonight.”

  Warm breath feathered across his ear. She licked the lobe, then closed her teeth on it with a quiet growl. “The clerk inside is staring at us.”

  “Do you blame her?” After another heartbeat, Julio released Sera and started the car.

  “Probably wondering whether she needs to call the cops on us.”

  After retreating to her side of the car, Sera gave the attendant a cheerful wave. “Maybe she was enjoying the show. You’re hotter than any of the softcore stuff on cable.”

  “If you say so.”

  “You don’t fool me, mister. You look like a man with a healthy stash of porn.” Her seatbelt clicked into place before she turned to eye him. “I’m thinking…busty cheerleaders in short skirts? Or is that too vanilla?”

  “I’m all about variety,” he told her solemnly. “Busty cheerleaders are well-represented in my collection, but I would never limit myself so severely.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, he caught her grin. “I stick to the Playgirl stuff. Oiled-up men aren’t really my thing, but at least they go for the hunky ones.”

  He flashed her a knowing grin of his own. “And you like the men in uniform, right? All the ladies do.”

  “You mean like McNeely?” She whistled as he steered the car out of the parking lot. “That is one fine hunk of wolf. Too bad he’s got a big dumb crush on Giselle.”

  After Wesley Dade’s conveniently telling remark, they’d probably spent the weekend in bed together. “That’s your type, huh? Tall, dark and handsome?”

  “You have to ask, when I just tried to climb into your lap in a parking lot?”

  “You’re the one who brought it up.”

  She laughed. “You’re tall, dark and handsome, Mendoza.”

  “You’re mostly right, Sinclaire.” He adjusted the rearview mirror so the slanting sunlight wouldn’t blind him and pressed his foot harder on the accelerator. “I’m not particularly tall.”

  “You’re taller than me.” She reached across the seat, and her fingers brushed the back of his neck in a caress almost as teasing as her words. “But not too much taller. Which would come in handy, if you’d ever considered bending me over furniture for dirty sex.”

  The car swerved as his grip tightened on the wheel. It wasn’t hard to call forth images to match her words—her naked, rounded hips, pale skin under his hands, and the smooth, endless expanse of her back stretched out before him.

  Her fingertip snuck under the collar of his shirt. “If you were taller, I’d have to stand on phone books or something.”

  That bare touch on the back of his neck hardened his cock. “Arrive alive, honey. Hands to yourself.”

  Another laugh, but she eased away. “And this is why everyone in New Orleans thinks we’re going to spend the next week having sex. They all know I can’t keep my hands off you.”

  A horrible, truly inspired idea hit him. “What if you have to?”

  “Keep my hands off you?” He could almost feel the weight of her gaze on him. “Maybe if you handcuff me to something.”

  Yes. “Or if I told you not to touch me until I said you could.”

  Her breath hissed out. She squirmed in the seat, her cheeks flushing with arousal. “Who says I’d obey?”

  Instinct. “I say.”

  “So tell me.”

  He laid his hand on her leg. “Don’t touch me, Sera, not once. Not until I say you can.”

  Her power licked over him in a gentle wave of prickling warmth. A quiet test, a challenge he answered with his own rush of magic. Sera arched her head back, her mouth falling open on a moan of pure, throaty pleasure.

  It did nothing to alleviate his arousal, and Julio stifled a groan. “Is that a yes?”

  “Yes.” A whisper. A promise. “I won’t touch you. Not until you say I can.”

  His hunch had been right—it turned her on even more. Good. Maybe it would also afford him the opportunity to regain some self-control. “All right, then.”

  Her leg tensed under his hand. “So not fair that you get to touch me.”

  “And why is that?”

  “Because I’m the only one getting hot and bothered over here?”

  He chanced a glance her way and slid his hand from her knee. “Oh really?”

  She laughed, a sound full of lazy pleasure in spite of her impatient words. “If I look, I’ll be too tempted to touch.”

  “Then stop fishing around for me to tell you you’re gorgeous. You know you are.”

  “That’s not—” He almost heard the click of her teeth snapping together. She shifted positions again, crossing her legs. “Thank you.”

  It sounded sincere, though edged with something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. He let it go. “We can stop in Pensacola or keep on until we hit Panama City Beach. It’s not far to either, so I’ll leave it up to you.”

  She only hesitated for a moment. “Panama City Beach, maybe? Do we know where we’re staying?”

  He spent all day, every day, making plans. Preparations, asking and answering questions.

  Considering the future. “I didn’t do a damn thing before we left, sweetheart. We’re winging it.”

  It made her smile. “I think this phone Kat and Anna shoved on me has internet. Should I try to find a place?”

  “You can try. Most of the cell carriers around here stick to cities and interstate corridors, though.”

  Sera glanced out the window at the trees rolling by, then relaxed back against the seat.

  “Worth it. Let’s wing it.”

  No plans. No rules. “Right on.”

  Julio had money. Not Anna’s I’m a badass bounty hunter who could pick up two grand on a quick job money or Kat’s I have a trust fund and a PhD in computer science money, either.

  Julio had five-star beachfront bungalow with a private pool and hot tub money, and probably enough left over to convince the property’s perfectly coiffed owner to ignore Sera’s five-dollar flip-flops and secondhand sports jersey.

  It almost made her wish she’d taken some of the money her father had constantly tried to shove at her, if only to buy herself a nicer wardrobe. Stubborn independence, it seemed, had some serious drawbacks.

  Not that Julio seemed to mind. Sera headed to the kitchen to unpack their groceries, and Julio thrust open the drapes and stared out the French doors at the churning surf. “It’s a fucking beautiful night.”

  The beach was as close to private as possible in the area, though some of that illusion of privacy no doubt came from the empty properties on either side of them. The rest came with the price tag. “It’s gorgeous. I’m glad we’re staying for a couple days.”

  “Or a week, or whatever.” He dropped to the plush sofa. “No plans, remember?”

  “No plans. Except all the incredible food I’m going to cook.” And staying in the kitchen with the groceries seemed safer than joining him on the couch. That wild moment in the car might as well have not happened. Julio had been careful not to touch her in the hours since, and she was wound too tight, her skin itching and her body aching.

  Julio turned to grin at her. “We should probably go outside and do stuff sometimes, even if all we do
is lie on the beach like broiling vegetables.”

  Sera dug through the bag and surfaced with the sunblock. “SPF eight million. I might need an umbrella and a floppy hat too, though.”

  He stretched out one bronzed arm. “Not much of an exaggeration for you, huh? The broiling part.”

  “I don’t tan gracefully.” Lord knew she’d tried, but freckles that could look cute on pale skin weren’t quite as charming once she turned red as a lobster. “But if I dye my hair black, I’m a badass goth.”

  Julio laughed. “Too bad we’re not in New Orleans anymore. You could tell all the tourists you’re a fearsome vampire named Lady Nocturne.”

  She tucked the last of the fresh fruit into the fridge. “Maybe Henry would feature me on one of his fake ghost tours. Vampires are a lot more exciting than coyotes.”

  When he spoke, it was from right behind her. “Depends on who you ask.”

  Sera froze, all of her except for her fingers, which clenched around the counter until the edge bit into her palm. She hadn’t heard him moving, which was scary all on its own when she could hear the quiet buzz of the streetlight out on the road.

  She could feel him, though, a wall of unrelenting heat at her back, and she braced herself on the counter mostly to keep from slumping back against him. “You are scary stealthy when you want to be.”

  He touched her shoulder. “For such a lumbering hulk, you mean?”

  “For anyone.” The slippery fabric of her top wasn’t skimpy, but she could feel the shape of his fingers—Jesus, the shape of his fingerprints. The urge to reach for him swallowed her whole, but there was a giddy thrill in self-denial, in keeping her hands in place on the counter.

  A sick thrill. An oh-so-wrong thrill. How many pained looks had she endured from the submissive wolves? How many gentle lectures had she sat through, condescending words urging her not to buy into stereotypes, not to undermine the rest of them? Submission was about pack and safety, not life and sex.

  She’d always been a little bent.

  “Sera?”

  “I’m not touching you.” It came out husky. Desperate. “I don’t know if you were seducing me with that or trying to keep me out of your pants.”

  “Who says it couldn’t have been both?” His fingers brushed the back of her neck. “When’s the last time someone took it slow for you?”

  Pleasure zipped down her spine, tightening her nipples and melting everything below her waist. “Define slow. A couple hours?”

  “Not the sex,” he whispered. “Getting there.”

  Before Josh, she’d never made the boys go slow. After Josh, she hadn’t let the men go slow.

  Her independence had been too hard-won to let any guy have more than a few hours.

  Until now. Until him. “I don’t know. Slow isn’t really my thing.”

  He leaned closer. “It’s mine.”

  All she had to do was lean back an inch, and his body would be stretched out along hers, warm and hot and perfect. His command held her rooted in place. Not fear or obedience, just pleasure at the freedom of knowing she didn’t have to do anything. “All right.”

  Julio hummed, as if her answer really had been one. “You want dinner or a swim?”

  Cold water. Lots and lots of cold water. “We had a late lunch. I could swim.”

  “Got your suit handy, or are you feeling adventurous?”

  It sounded like a dare, so she pulled away from the counter and tugged the sports jersey over her head.

  He guided her hip, applying enough pressure to turn her to face him, and let his gaze rove over her. “You like this,” he murmured, running a finger over the lacy edge of one bra cup. “The girly ribbons and shit.”

  “Sometimes.” She needed something to do with her hands, something that didn’t involve ripping his shirt in half. So she caught the end of one of her braids and set about freeing her hair. “Have you been studying my underwear?”

  He smiled, slow and easy. “Only when you take off your clothes.”

  “I’m a shapeshifter. I take my clothes off a lot.” A day spent tightly plaited left her hair tumbling around her shoulders in gentle waves, which had been the entire point. “Are we going to find someplace to run this week? I get antsy if I don’t get to every few days.”

  “Tomorrow.” He slipped one finger under her bra strap. “There’s an unofficial alpha in town.

  Carmen and Alec met him when they passed through last summer. We’re going to go introduce ourselves.”

  The world narrowed to his skin touching hers. One square inch at most, and she was already hot enough to hump his leg. Her gaze dropped without her permission, sliding past his belt and its shiny silver buckle to where his jeans stretched over the early stages of what would almost certainly be an impressive erection.

  Totally unfair, that he wasn’t raging hard and five seconds from fucking her over the counter, and she opened her mouth to tell him so before his words fully registered.

  Unofficial alpha. Other wolves.

  Shit. “Are you sure you want me to come with you when you meet them?”

  He didn’t pretend not to understand. “You think they’ll give you a hard time?”

  Most unfamiliar wolves did. Those who had been born shapeshifters looked down on the other breeds, and the turned ones had to fight harder against animal instinct and the certainty that she was an interloper in their territory.

  Even the ones who didn’t loathe her rarely respected her, and that might be worse. Julio could probably handle repressed hostility, but she doubted he’d react well if any of them sized her up as an exotic sexual thrill, the kind they’d brag about to their friends later.

  The last thing the Southeast council needed was Julio getting into fights over a coyote. “I can handle it if they do. I’m used to it. I don’t want to go and leave you stuck thinking you have to defend my honor, though.”

  Julio cupped her jaw, his fingers tickling the delicate skin behind her ear. “Let me worry about that, okay?”

  His touch stole her breath, turned her reply into a whisper. “I have to worry. I know you’ll protect me from anything, but I don’t want to make your life harder.”

  “Nothing about this is hard, sweetheart. It’s a vacation. Easiest thing in the world.”

  He pulsed with confidence, with dominance. Sera let it go as she gave him her best big-eyed look of mischief. “Nothing’s hard? I’m hurt.”

  Julio growled, picked her up in a surge of flexing muscle and dropped her on the counter.

  “Remember what you agreed to? No touching me until I say? Now tell me if you’re ready to take it further.”

  She bit back the instinctive yes that tried to tumble free. Her coyote was on her back already, throat and belly bared in eager submission. The terrifying part was knowing that it was sheer dominance alone. With Josh there’d been instinct, the heady recognition of being with her own kind, a seductive sort of belonging that hid his weaknesses, his flaws.

  Julio was beautiful, wild power, mysterious and unfamiliar. Dangerous. The coyote’s submission had nothing to do with mating, but it was still trust. Need. Twisted with her human desire, it was strong enough to intoxicate her.

  She should be smart, ease back. Ask what he wanted to do. This was why the damn wolves in New Orleans had turned her away from their fucking BDSM club to begin with. She trusted or she didn’t, no in-betweens, no negotiations, no safewords.

  But that was a human game, and this was something else. A game humans would never understand, never should, and she needed it. “Yes,” she said, giving him permission for anything. Everything.

  He held her gaze for several heartbeats, intensity burning in his dark eyes. Then he began to undress her.

  It was slow. Deliberate. Practiced, but she’d expected that. Julio Mendoza of the many legendary conquests wouldn’t fumble with the clasp on a woman’s bra. Sera’s breath caught as he slipped the fabric from her body, but it was the hungry look in his eyes more than anything else that d
id it.

  His fingers fell to her shorts, and she almost moaned her relief. “No more going slow?”

  He unfastened her shorts and pulled them lower on her hips. “Slower than ever, honey. Up, so I can get these off.”

  The words didn’t make sense, but she cared more about bracing one hand against the fridge and the other on the counter. So easy to lift her hips, and he stripped away her shorts.

  His lips touched her skin, some indefinable place just under her rib cage, but not quite on her stomach or her hip or her waist. Then he traced his tongue up, between her breasts, all the way to the hollow of her throat.

  “Julio…” When she dropped her head back, it thudded hollowly against the nearly empty cupboards. “Can I touch you yet?”

  “No.” He skated his thumb over one hard nipple, and this time her moan was frustration and pleasure.

  He was going to tease her. Torture her. She was going to love it. “Kiss me? Please?”

  He smiled, slow and hot. “Yeah.” His open mouth covered hers, hotter than the kiss in the car. Deeper too, once he’d licked her lips until she opened for him willingly. Julio kissed like he loved how she tasted, like he could spend all night making her squirm on the counter with the suggestive play of his tongue against hers.

  He was breathing heavily when he lifted his head and slipped his fingers beneath the lace of her panties.

  Oh God, he was going to break her brain. Right here on the counter, while he was still clothed. As turned on as she was, she’d come in under a minute.

  Maybe she should warn him. First she had to breathe, which was harder with him staring at her like that, dark eyes as glazed as her own must be. Her words came out as more of a whisper. “I’m not going to last very long at this rate.”

  He leaned closer and laughed against her lips. “Sweetheart, that sounds like a promise to me.” His free hand wrapped around the back of her neck and dragged her mouth back to his.

  She was so busy moaning that she almost forgot to feel guilty at the thrill she got from the possessive bite of his fingers on her neck.