Answering his question, she said, “Stop worrying, Elliot. I’ve never been better.”
“You get any better,” he rasped, leaning down and pressing a hard kiss against her mouth, “and it’ll kill me.”
She laughed as she pushed his hair back from his face again. “Death by sex?”
“Don’t joke,” he scraped out, shaking his head. “I’m serious.”
Tilting her head a bit to the side, she slipped a fingertip under his top lip, rubbing it against the place on his gum where she would have seen one of his fangs, before he’d pulled them back. “Do you ever have trouble controlling them?” she asked, sounding more curious than afraid. “You know...biting something that you...shouldn’t?”
He was pretty sure all the blood was draining out of his face, but he gave her an honest answer. “Not with you.” Never with you.
Then he forced himself to move to his feet and headed into the bathroom. He came back less than a minute later with a warm washcloth, a husky laugh on his lips when he found her lying there with the sheet pulled up over her breasts and her legs demurely curled to the side. They engaged in a playful tussle, which he easily won by pushing those pretty legs apart and kneeling between them.
“You’re such a spoiler,” she whispered, as he carefully cleaned her up, and he thought it was completely adorable that she could still blush such a vivid shade of pink after the extremely intimate things they’d just done together.
“You deserve to be spoiled,” he murmured, tossing the cloth aside, his heart beating with a hard, heavy thump as he watched his hand settle back against the soft, pale skin of her inner thigh, his thumb sweeping out to rub across her clit. The room was quiet but for their hushed, soughing breaths, and he kept up that slow, erotic stroking, until her sex was glistening and wet. Then he twisted his hand, keeping his thumb on her clit as he pushed two long fingers deep inside her.
“Sore?” he whispered, when she gasped.
Her shy reply was soft, breathless. “Only a little.”
He flicked a look up at her from under his brows, the corner of his mouth twitching with anticipation at how hard he was about to make her blush. “You know, I really think I should kiss it and make it better.”
“Ohmygod!” she said with an embarrassed laugh, covering her face with her hands.
“It’s Elliot, baby. Just Elliot,” he teased, making her laugh even harder. And with a wicked grin on his lips, he lowered his head, spread her open with his thumbs...and got lost all over again.
Chapter 11
In a perfect world, Skye had a strong feeling that she and Elliot would have stayed in that deliciously sex-thrashed bed the entire day, until the necessity for food finally forced them to leave it. The morning had been long and wickedly lovely, and she’d have been lying through her teeth if she’d said she didn’t feel...different. Like something that had emerged from a cocoon, shaking off its old skin so that it could see what living in a new one was like.
God, she wished she had Viv there to talk to, because if there was ever a time that a girl needed her best friend to use as a sounding board, it was now. For the first time in her entire life, she was starting to feel that a guy like Elliot Connors—gorgeous, funny, protective, smart, successful and, yeah... Lycan—could actually be interested in a girl like her.
And it felt freaking incredible. Made her want to throw her arms around him and kiss him until she was drunk on the pleasure, but he’d already headed out to grab them some food, after slipping out of bed to throw on a gray Henley, jeans and his boots. Before he’d left, he’d read out a brief message from Max on his phone that simply said:
That was shit news about the cabin. Hope you destroyed the fuckers! Vivian still safe. Tell Skye not to worry. Talk soon.
She’d been thinking hard about Viv, sending up a silent prayer that she was safe and getting along okay with Max, when Elliot had leaned down, given her a quick kiss right on her sensitive lips and told her not to worry. Then he’d reminded her that he was only going to check out the food places that were right by the motel, and was out the door. So, left with a little time to herself, she’d burrowed back into the mound of pillows and let her mind wander over some of the scrumptious things they’d done together.
And while there was more than a little part of her that still felt guilty for getting so lost in Elliot, she figured Viv would understand. Especially seeing as how the sex had been...um, freaking insane. So incredible she was pretty sure she’d lost a few brain cells in the whole process of climaxing until she nearly passed out.
Smirking and shaking her head at herself—since she was clearly acting like a lovesick idiot—Skye finally forced herself to at least make a move toward the shower. She immediately winced as soon as she’d stood up at the side of the bed, a wry laugh on her lips as she realized just how sore she was.
Wrapping the sheet around herself, since her clothes were still in the bathroom, she started to turn around, when she spotted the gun sitting on the bedside table. And just like that, a jagged slice of reality cut into her rosy glow.
With a frown settling between her brows, she found herself thinking about Elliot’s work, and wondering if his life was always this dangerous. Was that why he hadn’t been intimate with a woman in so long? She’d been so freaking shocked when he’d told her that, but then, in a weird way, it’d made a lot of sense, since it helped explain why he was so determined to be careful with her. She’d expected at least a degree of that kind of care, seeing as how they weren’t even the same species. In the shifter romances she loved so much, the hero would always rather do bodily harm to himself than hurt a female, the strong alpha types that they were, and she could so see Elliot feeling that same way. But...there seemed almost something deeper to how cautious he was with her during sex. Something even more...personal.
She couldn’t say that it bothered her, because that would be stupid. What woman didn’t want the man she was involved with to want to be good for her? But she trusted Elliot. For however long they had together, she didn’t want him worrying when he was inside her. She wanted him lost to the moment, seeped in pleasure and acting purely on instinct. She wanted him wild. She wanted him—not some tightly controlled version he thought would make her feel safer.
And, yeah, it also wasn’t lost on her that she’d thought the words however long they had. That, unfortunately, was reality, pure and simple. But she wasn’t going to let it control her or get all weepy about it. And she...she wasn’t going to just give up, either, and take whatever fate threw at her. For the first time in her life, Skye had found something worth fighting for—that she wanted, badly—and damn it, if the end came knocking on their door, she was going to give it one hell of a battle. Because they were good together, and something that good deserved a little blood and sweat and tears. Which meant she was going to do everything she could to hold on to Elliot Connors.
As if right on cue, the door opened, and the man—the Lycan himself—came stepping back into the room, a grin on his lips when he took in her very fashionable sheet. “There was no place I trusted not to poison you close enough that I could still get back to you quickly, if you needed me,” he said, holding up the colorful paper menus in his hand. “So I grabbed some take-out menus from the front office. Figured we can just have something delivered.”
“That sounds good. But do we have enough time before your friends get here?”
He tossed the menus on the nearby dresser, then headed right for her, his hair still all spiky, from her own hands instead of his, and she loved it. Loved how he’d seemed to crave her touch, growling with pleasure whenever she’d scraped her nails over his scalp, or skimmed her fingertips down his sleek, powerful back.
“We still have about an hour,” he said, just before he reached her and pulled her into his arms. When he pressed his lips to hers, she swore she could still taste a salty hint of herself on them, and ohmyfreakinggod, that was hot.
“If you want to grab a shower,” he said
against her mouth, one hand stroking over the bare length of her back, “I’ll get the order in.”
“You’re not joining me?” she asked, drawing her head back so that she could look him in the eye.
He bunched the sides of the sheet in his hands, looking like he very much wanted to rip it off her. “Trust me, I want to. But if I do, I’ll never get you fed. And I need to keep my girl in top working order, when you take into account what I plan on doing to her when we reach my cabin.”
“Hmm. She sounds like a lucky girl.”
Voice husky and low, he said, “Oh, I definitely intend to make her feel lucky. You can believe that.”
He lowered his head again, his mouth working over hers with delicious skill, rooting out her pleasure like he wanted it more than his own, until she was left in a dizzy, embarrassingly swoony state when he finally pulled away. She slumped against the side of the bed, flushed with desire, the cocky grin on his lips telling her he knew exactly what he’d been doing with that killer kiss.
Clearing her throat, she rasped, “I’m just...gonna...grab that shower...now.”
“I already put your bag in there for you. But give me a shout if you need any help getting dressed!” he called after her, and there was a stupid smile on her lips as she shut the bathroom door behind her.
The hot water did wonders for her aching muscles, and she was feeling more refreshed than she had in days when she came out of the bathroom a half hour later, dressed in jeans and a slouchy pale green sweater that Viv always said did awesome things to her eyes. Their order must have only just been delivered, because Elliot was standing by the small table, unpacking what looked like cheeseburgers and fries from a paper bag.
“What’s this?” she asked, when he held out one of the tall paper cups for her, the thick, spiral straw in the top making her suspicious.
“It’s your chocolate milk shake,” he replied with a smirk, taking a quick sip before holding it out for her again. “Mmm...a good one, too. I once had this gorgeous waitress recommend them to me. I got the feeling they were her favorite.”
She took the cup from him, and couldn’t help but smile. “So you got me one?”
“Hell, yeah. Just because we’re in the middle of a shit-storm doesn’t mean I can’t be charming.”
She laughed, thinking there were times when he was just too freaking perfect. “Thank you,” she murmured, taking a long sip through the thick straw. It was delicious, and she couldn’t resist taking another drink. “God,” she moaned, clutching the shake to her chest. “My ass doesn’t need it, but it’s so freaking good.”
Unwrapping his burger, he said, “Your ass is fucking perfect just the way it is.”
She gave a delicate snort. “I wish.”
He turned his head, giving her a sharp look. “Seriously, Skye. The first time I saw your ass in that tight uniform you were wearing at the diner, I nearly got down on my knees and thanked God.”
“You are so full of it!”
“Just eat,” he grunted, sounding a little frustrated with her, and they both sat down at the table without another word, digging into the greasy, but surprisingly good food. When they’d finished, she stuffed the wrappers back into the bag, and carried it over to the small trash can in the corner of the room, wishing she’d just accepted his earlier compliment and hadn’t been such an idiot. Honestly! Why was she always trying to convince this guy that she was too heavy, when he seemed to enjoy her body exactly like it was?
She started to turn around and apologize, only to have her breath catch as she felt Elliot come up behind her, his chest pressing against her back, his big hands settling on her hips as he leaned down and spoke directly into her ear. “I meant what I said about your ass. I don’t want you changing a single damn thing about your body for me. I’m addicted to it just the way it is.”
“Sorry,” she groaned, already turning her head so that she could find his mouth with hers. With a gravelly sound of hunger on his lips, he yanked her hips back against his thick erection and kissed her mouth just as wickedly as he’d kissed her between her legs, his tongue flicking and stroking, while he made the sexiest sounds deep in his throat.
When a loud knock suddenly shook the thin door in its frame, he cursed and pulled away from her. “Yeah?” he grunted, reaching down to rearrange his hard-on as he headed toward the door.
A deep, rough voice called out from the other side. “It’s Lev, so open up. We’re freezing our asses off out here.”
Rolling his eyes, Elliot pulled the door open, and four intimidating-looking men came strolling into the motel room.
Skye lifted her hand, giving a lame little wave when their curious gazes swept over the room, then landed hard on her. So these are the mercs he told me about, she thought, finding them...um, yeah. They were something else. Like, literally. She didn’t know how she knew, she just did. They weren’t like her, but they weren’t entirely like Elliot, either, and she made a mental note to ask him about it later, when they were alone.
The blond one who looked like something that had walked right off the screen of a blockbuster action flick came toward her, his smile charming and wide and more than a tad bit wicked. Elliot quickly moved back to her side, shooting the big, beautiful male a dark look of warning, and there was a guttural edge to his voice as he introduced the merc as Lev Slivkoff. He briefly explained to the group that she knew the truth about the Bloodrunners and the Silvercrest Lycans, and then the other males were introduced as James Bennett, Sam Harmon and Kyle Maddox. All dark, freaking-tall-as-hell giants like Elliot, and almost as handsome.
Lev looked between the two of them, noting how close Elliot was standing to her side, shot an interested look over at the still-wrecked bed, and then slowly smiled. “Now I get it,” he said in a low, husky rumble as he settled his unusual blue-green gaze back on Elliot. “All these years I’ve been giving you a hard time about your monk-like lifestyle, when you were really just holding out for the good stuff.”
“The good stuff?” Skye asked, thinking the guy couldn’t possibly be talking about her. Though the sinful, appreciative look in his arresting gaze as it slid over her certainly made it seem that he was.
“Just ignore him,” Elliot suggested under his breath. “Your life will be simpler if you do.”
“Aw, don’t do that,” Lev drawled, giving her a mischievous wink. “I cry when pretty girls ignore me.”
“Stop flirting with her, you ass,” Elliot muttered, wrapping his arm around her waist and hauling her up against him. Lev’s smile got even wider, while the other three just looked on with lopsided grins, as if they were used to this kind of thing.
Crossing his powerful arms over his chest, Lev propped his shoulder against the door and finally got serious. “Before we head out,” he said, rubbing his hand over his jaw, “tell us about these bastards that attacked you at the safe house.”
“They were big,” Elliot started to explain, “though not quite as big as me, and they had a strange scent. Heavy on the musk, with almost a hint of coyote...or maybe cat. It was still daylight when I fought them, but they were able to release claws that were longer than mine, and their fangs were shorter. And their eyes, when they started to turn, went completely black.”
Looking at the others, Lev said, “I told you guys they sounded like wargs.”
“What the hell is a warg?” Elliot grunted, and Skye could feel the way he tightened his grip on her, his fingers digging into her hip.
The one named Kyle shoved his hand back through his dark hair and grimaced. “You don’t wanna know, man.”
“Kyle,” Elliot muttered. “This isn’t—”
“I’m serious,” the merc said in a slow Southern accent, cutting him off as he pointed a long finger right at her. “Right now, we need to focus on getting the lovely Skye out of here.”
She heard the low growl that vibrated in the back of Elliot’s throat, and knew he was going to say something outrageously possessive before he even opened his mou
th. “She’s my lovely Skye. You can call her Miss Hewitt.”
“Oh, God,” the guy said with a hoarse laugh, shaking his head as he looked at the others. “It’s happened to another one.”
“What’s happened?” she asked, hating the lost feeling she’d had ever since the conversation had started. And seeing as how they were talking about her again, she wanted some insight.
But Lev just gave her another wink, before pushing off from the door and checking the time on the thick black watch he wore on his wrist. Then he looked at Elliot, and asked, “What’s the status at the safe house?”
“Mason was going to call in one of the local packs to get rid of the bodies. I’m hoping they might also find something that gives us a clue as to who the hell was shooting at the...wargs.”
When the merc did nothing more than nod at the mention of gunshots and body disposal, Skye blinked, realizing that in their world, that probably wasn’t as unusual an exchange as it was in hers. But it was one that she would no doubt hear about again, if this thing between her and Elliot managed to last. And that made her realize that there were actually a hell of a lot of questions she needed to ask him, if she wanted to start wrapping her head around this fascinating, clearly dangerous, sometimes terrifying world she’d been thrown into.
With the conversation wrapped up for the moment, Elliot grabbed their bags and slipped his gun into his waistband at his lower back, then the group headed out. There were two massive black trucks parked near her Beetle, and she knew without even having to be told that they belonged to the mercs. There was a brief discussion among the group about who would drive her sorry little car, and then James finally said he’d do the first shift, and someone could switch with him when they stopped for food. The others agreed, and then she and Elliot climbed into the backseat of one truck, while Lev and Sam got in the front, and Kyle climbed behind the wheel in the other one.
Wild Wolf Claiming Page 17
