by Jessica Sims
“Of course I should have. You asked, and you shall receive.” He pulls salt and vinegar chip bags out of the next bag, and then frowns at the items. “I’m missing something.”
“I can’t imagine what.” I pull a plastic spoon out of the wrapper and pry the lid off my ice cream. My mouth is watering.
He snaps his fingers. “Now I remember. Be right back.” He jogs out of the office before I can protest.
I look over at Ryder, and she just gives me a knowing glance. “Food delivery?”
“Pregnancy cravings,” I tell her, and then take a large fudgey, peanut-buttery bite out of my ice cream. I nearly moan aloud, because it’s heaven. Well, almost. I open the chips and grab one and use the ice cream like dip, loading it onto my chip and then taking a bite.
Now I’m in heaven.
“Oh, that is nasty to watch,” Ryder says, wrinkling her nose. “And I saw Bevan lick my deodorant once, so I know I have a strong stomach.”
“You are just hating,” I tell her, and scoop more ice cream onto my next chip.
Connor comes back in a moment later, and he’s got two iced lattes in his hands. He reads the side of the cup on the first one, and then takes it over to Ryder. “Iced coffee for you.” Then he returns to my desk and hands me the other drink. “Iced hot cocoa for you.”
He remembered that Ryder loves coffee. And he remembered my cocoa. I stare at the cup. There’s a mountain of whipped cream on top of it. And it’s icy. And chocolatey.
My lower lip wobbles at how awesome he’s being, and I sniff. “Thank you.”
“You need anything else, baby? The boys were great at class so I’m going to take them bowling.” He winks at me. “Keep them out of your hair a few more hours. Plus, Gracie and the pack are meeting us, so I get to babysit all the chuckleheads.”
“I’m great,” I tell him, and sniffle again.
He comes around the side of my desk and presses a kiss on top of my head. “I’ll be back later.” He pauses. “You crying?”
“Tears of food joy,” I tell him, and smile.
He grins at me, and there’s such pride and pleasure on his face. “I wanted to get you what you were craving. You call me if you need anything else, okay?”
“I will,” I tell him, and manage to hold it together as he kisses the top of my head again and then leaves. The moment I hear his truck pull out, I start blubbering all over again. I mop at my face with Kleenex and look up to see Ryder staring at me, perplexed.
“Um. Do we need to talk?”
“I’m fine.” I wipe my nose and reach for a new tissue, since this one is soaked.
“Clearly.” Her eyebrows go up. “Do we need to talk about how secrets are bad?”
She’s teasing me. I can tell by her tone and by the fact that, well, it’s Ryder. She’s the queen of secrets, most of which were just recently exposed. I give her a watery smile. “It’s 90% pregnancy hormones.”
“And the other ten percent?”
I fish another chip out of the bag and dig it into my ice cream again. “That other ten percent is me being an idiot.”
She laughs, and I don’t blame her. I am being an idiot. A lovesick one, but still an idiot.
It’s late when Connor returns with the Primordials. They’re in a great mood, laughing and talking animatedly about bowling….and Gracie, who is an incorrigible flirt and apparently worked her wiles all night long. I just roll my eyes at their discussions of how to woo Gracie with pizza as I drive them home to the Russell farm. It’s super late at night and the drive is long. Connor wants to do it for me, but I know the moment his truck shows up in the driveway, there’ll be a million questions to answer, so I make him drive my car and I sit in the passenger seat next to him.
I’m yawning and dozing in my seat by the time we pull up to my house. I still get a little thrill of pleasure at the sight of it every time I pull up. I’ve always lived with my cousins, and it’s nice to have a quiet, private place of my own. Of course, it’s not really mine, but it feels like it is.
Connor is quiet as we enter the house and get ready for bed. I’m guessing he’s tired - watching over the Primordials is enough to wear anyone out. But while I was sleepy in the car? I’m wide awake, now. It’s getting to bedtime.
Platonic, platonic bedtime.
I’m sick of it, too. I want it to change. I want Connor to touch me. I want to feel his hands and mouth on my body. I don’t care that I’m pregnant as hell and feel bloated from the bucketload of sweets I had earlier. I’m craving sex, and I’m craving Connor. I contemplate changing into sexy panties and a sexy bra, but none of them fit. How do I let him know that I want him, short of spreading my legs and masturbating in front of him?
I ponder this as I brush my teeth. He enters the bathroom, kisses my temple, and asks, “You going to shower before bed?”
Inspiration strikes. I nod and finish cleaning my teeth as he brushes his quickly at the other sink and then heads back out. A sexy shower is the perfect scenario.
I shut the door to the bathroom - mostly - and undress. I eye my body critically in the mirror. New stretch marks trace red, angry lines on my stomach. Yay. My breasts look nice and full, though. I smooth my hair, and then chide myself for being silly. I’m getting in the damn shower. My hair’s going to be wet, not perfect.
I get into the shower and lather up with some of my favorite unscented body wash. I love the sweet-smelling stuff, but a lot of shifters hate perfumes of any kind, so I avoid it since I work at the dating agency. When I’m all lathered up and clean in the front, I suck up my courage and hold my bath pouf against my heart, as if that will stop its nervous hammering. “Connor?” I call out.
Even through the patter of shower spray, I can hear him scramble into the hallway, probably scared I’ve hurt myself. “You okay, Savannah?”
I lick my dry lips. “I’m fine. Can you…come wash my back?”
There’s a long pause, and for a heart-wrenching moment, I worry he’s going to say no. That he’ll see through my transparent ploy and turn me down. I mean, what sane woman asks her platonic guy friend to come wash her back? That’s a porny come-on if there ever was one.
“Sure.” Connor’s voice is oddly quiet.
I feel embarrassed. I don’t know why. After all, the guy gave me oral sex a few days ago. But I still feel weird about things, and his response wasn’t exactly enthusiastic. I step into the shower spray and let it wet my face so I can close my eyes and not have to look at him when he comes in. I hear him as he enters the bathroom, and I hold my breath, imagining him stripping down to join me. I picture his smooth, tanned skin and muscular chest, taut arms, the little vee of muscle at his hips—
The shower curtain pulls back. “Pass me the soap.”
He’s…not in the shower with me. I step out of the spray to get the body wash and blink water from my eyes, then dare a look over at him. He’s standing outside the curtain, one arm extended in.
That’s…really disappointing.
I slap the body wash bottle into his hand and then offer him my body pouf.
“Turn for me?”
Not even a comment on my wet, naked body? I’m utterly crushed. It’s like he’s seeing right through me. I give him my back, glad because it can hide the disappointment on my face.
Connor doesn’t want me anymore. Something’s changed, and he’s done. A hot tear slides down my cheek, hidden by the spray as he gives me the most perfunctory bath scrub a naked woman has ever had. He slides the soap along my back then gives me a good, vigorous scrub that has nothing sexy to it.
“There you go,” he says after a moment, and holds the pouf out for me. “All done.”
I take it from him and say nothing as he leaves. I can’t speak. The knot in my throat is too big.
Chapter 19
CONNOR
My dick hurts so much that I’m going to die. I’m pretty sure it’s so hard that if I run into a wall, it’s going to snap clear off my body. Wet, sexy Savannah just had
me scrub her back like I’m a roomie. God, she’s torturing me. I need an hour to myself so I can go jerk off all the tension in my body.
But I don’t have that, because she’s turning off the shower right now.
I press a hand to the tight denim covering my groin, mentally willing my uncomfortable boner to disappear in the next few seconds. The last thing I want to do is make Savannah uncomfortable, not after I’ve been having such a breakthrough with courting her.
Then I picture her skin again, her body wet and gleaming with water, and any hope of control disappears. Fuck it. If I’m going to have an erection, I might as well allow myself to fantasize a bit. I mentally revel at getting to touch her naked skin, of how the curve of her back looked as the soap ran down in rivulets. The plump curves of her buttocks. The urge to rip my jeans off and rub the hell out of my cock is overwhelming.
Stop it. You said you’d go slow. You said you’d let her make all the first moves. It has to be her choice.
I sit on the edge of the bed and bend over, pretending to fuss with my shoelaces as she enters the bedroom, wrapped in a towel. I hear the towel rustling and her body moving, but I don’t dare look over. If I do, the possessive alpha inside me is going to take over and I’m not going to be able to help myself.
A man can only take so fucking much. My cock throbs in silent agreement.
“Connor?” Savannah’s voice is utterly soft. I feel her sit on the edge of the bed a few feet away, and I know she’s still in that towel, because I didn’t hear her get dressed. There’s a vulnerable, husky note to her voice. “I…did I make you mad in some way?”
I rip at my shoelaces. If I sit up, she’s going to see just how hard my dick is. If I look over at her, I’m not going to be able to stop from putting my mouth on that soft, dewy skin. From gripping a handful of her wet hair and holding her head back, exposing her neck as I mark her as mine… “What do you mean?” My voice is gruff. Irritated. Shit.
“I don’t know. Things are just…weird between us this week.”
I stiffen. That’s the last thing I want to hear. Being with her this week has been heaven. I’ve been able to take care of her, kiss her, sleep next to her…there’s no sex, but I’m willing to put aside my body’s needs for her needs. And she isn’t happy? I feel as if I’ve been punched in the gut. I want her to be happy. Hell, I want to be the one that makes her happy. “Weird how?”
A small sigh escapes her. “I think we need to talk.”
That’s never a good sign. My entire body goes on alert. She’s going to break up with me. The possessive need surges through me. She’s mine. My mate. My woman. My everything. The feral urge to mark her throat with the mate mark rises again, and I clench my fists, mentally willing myself into control. “What’s there to talk about?” I’m growling now.
“I just…” she pauses and I feel her shift on the bed. Her sweet scent envelops me and it takes every ounce of my willpower not to pounce on her. Tonight’s gonna be a slog if I lie beside her and can’t touch her the way I want to. I hear her lick her lips - God help me - and then she whispers, “Did something change? Are you not attracted to me anymore?”
The blood thunders in my brain. Not attracted to her?
I turn slowly and look over at her. She’s clutching the towel to her breasts, and her wet hair is falling around her shoulders. Her belly rounds out under the terry of the towel, and I can just catch a glimpse of skin.
She’s utterly beautiful. She looks vulnerable, soft…and unhappy.
Again, the urge to claim her as my own surges through me. “How could you even think that?”
The unhappy look on her face fades to one of annoyance. “Because you kiss my head like I’m a child instead of kissing me on the mouth? Because you hold me at night and don’t ever try anything else? Because I invited you in to wash my back and I’m pretty sure you showed more enthusiasm for doing the dishes? Because—“
The control I’ve worked so hard on snaps. I twist on the bed and rip the towel from her body. She thinks I don’t want her? I’m going to erase all doubt from her mind. I want her more than I want air. My arms go around her and I haul her body against mine. “Not want you? I’ve been going mad for the last week for want of you.” When confusion clouds her eyes, I take her hand and place it on my straining cock. “Does this feel like I don’t want you?”
She blinks rapidly. “But…” Her hand squeezes my cock. “You won’t even touch me.”
I groan, in sweet, utter agony from the touch of her hand. I lean in and kiss her, feeling her breasts against my chest, the press of her rounded belly against me. She’s soft and naked and damp, and she’s paradise in my arms. “You’ve said all along that you wanted things to be your choice. I wanted you to choose me, not me forcing you into my bed.”
“Oh.” Her mouth forms this sexy little ‘o’. Her gaze flicks to my mouth, and then back to my eyes. The look on her face is soft and full of need. “I didn’t realize—“
“Now you do,” I grit out. “You want me to keep showing you just how much I want you?”
She bites her lip and then nods.
That’s all I need to go on. I growl low in my throat and kiss her again. I’m not gentle, not tender, not careful with her. I claim her mouth with a bruising kiss, the last few days of pent-up need pouring out of me. My tongue slicks against hers, and she whimpers, her fingers curling into my shirt. She’s not pushing me away. She’s clinging to me, asking for more.
And the wolf in me goes wild. My hand goes to the back of her neck and I pull her closer, rubbing my face against her soft throat. I drag my tongue over the cords of her neck, and then nuzzle her. The beard stubble on my face drags against her and she shivers, but doesn’t pull away.
“This throat,” I growl at her. “This throat needs my mark. I need to show the world that you belong to me.” I press a kiss on her skin, right where I’m dying to bite her and brand her as mine. “Are you ready to be my mate, Savannah?”
She moans and twines her fingers in my hair.
That’s not a yes. But that’s all right. If she needs a little more time, I’ll give it to her as long as she gives herself to me in bed. I kiss lower, pressing my mouth to her collarbone and then suck hard, leaving a hickey. If she won’t wear one mark, I’ll make her wear another.
Her nails dig into my skin and she gasps. I smell a burst of scent, and then her arousal perfumes the air around us. Savannah wants more of this. She’s enjoying herself. And I love that. I press my hand between her legs, seeking her wet heat. Under the tangle of curls, I find her folds. She’s slick and ready, and she cries out when I touch her, her mouth seeking mine again. I claim her tongue.
“I want you to come inside me this time, Connor,” she breathes against me. “Please.”
Fuck, I want that more than anything, too. I consider how I can take her without hurting the children, and my brain automatically sends forth a visual. “Can you get on your hands and knees for me, baby?”
She nods, dazed. I reward her for her compliance with another kiss, then suck on her lower lip just because it’s mine. All of her belongs to me.
She just needs to realize it.
When I’m done kissing her, she stands and I give her beautiful, full ass a smack. “Hands and knees, baby,” I repeat. She seems drugged by my kisses, her eyes heavy-lidded, her mouth soft and wet. Her movements are languid as she crawls onto the bed, and I rip my shirt off, watching her get into position. Her full breasts hang down, just begging for me to slide underneath her body and tongue her nipples. Instead, I rip my jeans off and shed my underwear.
When I’m naked, I stroke my hand down the length of my erect cock, unable to help myself. She’s so gorgeous. Her body is lush and ripe, her ass softly curving. I slide my palm over it, and then push my hand between her legs, seeking her heat.
She gasps and leans forward, pressing her cheek to the mattress. Her ass is still in the air, and she spreads her legs a little wider, inviting me to touch her more.
I sink two fingers deep into her pussy, enjoying her startled gasp and the way she wriggles against my hand.
“I like how wet you are for me, Savannah,” I tell her. “That this pussy’s aching to be filled with my cock. Isn’t it?”
She gives a shuddering moan and rocks back against my hand.
I want to hear it from her lips. I want her to invite me to take her body, because this - even this - has to be her decision. It doesn’t matter how much I manhandle her and tell her that she’s mine. She needs to say it, too. “Tell me you want me to push inside you until I’m balls deep, Savannah.” I stroke my fingers in and out of her, and they make a wet, slicking sound that’s almost louder than her little moans. “Tell me you need me to fill you up with my cock.”
“Connor,” she whimpers. “Please.”
“Please what?” I thrust my fingers between her legs again, then pull out and flick her clit. “Tell me exactly what it is you need, Savannah.”
“You,” she breathes, and her hands fist in the blankets. “I need you inside me. I need you to fuck me.”
I’ve never heard sweeter words. I put my hands on her hips and pull her back, until her knees are on the edge of the bed and that sweet, full ass is close to me. I lean forward and push my cock between her thighs, sliding my cock along her wet folds. She makes a soft noise of pleasure as I lubricate myself, rocking back and forth and teasing her clit with every glide.
Savannah’s so wet that it doesn’t take long for me to lube my cock with her juices. I remember that I’m the only one she had sex with, and that was six months ago. I’ll need to be gentle. I rub the head of my cock at her entrance, then lean forward and search out her clit with my hand. I rub it with my fingertips, and when she responds with a small cry, I push into her.
Her startled gasp makes me freeze, but it’s difficult. I want to slam home into her, to bury my cock until I’m balls deep. I stroke her clit again, waiting for her to respond to me. When she moans again, I push a little deeper into her. Over and over, I tease her clit as I sink deeper into her, until I’m all the way in. She feels incredible - so tight and hot, like a fist around my cock. I can feel her every reaction. When she shudders, it sends tremors through me. When she shivers, it ripples through her body into mine. And when she whispers my name, it makes me crazy with need.
