The guy had offered her marriage. Love.
Time for some serious celebrating.
His tongue drove into her mouth just as she angled her hips against him and impaled the length of his cock in one fierce move.
She moaned around his tongue, loving the hot feel of his flesh inside her.
No barriers.
Sex to sex.
Man and woman.
Perfect.
Miranda rode him hard, driving faster and faster. Sweat soon filmed on her body, on his. His mouth moved from her lips to her breasts. Sucking. Licking. Biting with rough care.
Her sex tightened around him. The telltale clench right before orgasm.
Cain twisted, rolled hard and fast, and Miranda found herself staring up at him. His face was taut, etched into stark lines of lust, but his golden eyes were blazing with love.
His fingers pushed between her legs, strumming her hungry flesh, and Miranda came with a gasp as the pleasure blasted through her.
Cain held his body perfectly still as her sex contracted with her release. She could hear the rough sound of his ragged breathing in her ears, and when she finally opened eyes that she didn’t remember closing, his stare—glowing now with the power of the beast—was locked on her.
“No…protection…” The words rasped from him.
Miranda shook her head.
His jaw clenched and he started to withdraw.
“No.” Her legs clamped around him. Her hips arched. “I want all of you this time.”
His lips parted on a breath of surprise and she caught sight of his sharp teeth.
Then he was driving deep and fast. The rhythm was wild, and Miranda held on to him as fiercely as she could. Her head thrashed against the pillow, her nails dug into his shoulders, and when he came, exploding in a white-hot wave inside of her, she held him even tighter.
Then she waited, letting her heart slow, and finally heard the soft sound of his purr.
She smiled and pressed her face against his shoulder.
Damn, but she loved her shifter, and though their life together might not always be easy, well, that would be okay. Grandma Belle had told her once that the good things never came easily.
And Grandma Belle had been one smart lady.
Cain pulled back a bit and stared down at her. “A very, very short engagement, baby.”
Happiness made her lips curl. “Agreed.”
The sooner, the better. She couldn’t wait to spend all of her days and all of her nights with the man who’d saved her from death, who’d given her pleasure, and who’d taught her that it wasn’t always the beasts that a woman needed to fear.
Miranda stared into his eyes and whispered, “You know, I’ve really always been a cat person.”
He laughed and lowered his head to nuzzle her throat. “Good, baby, because this cat has claimed you, and you’re not getting away.”
And neither was he.
Life with him would be one hell of an adventure.
Jaguar. Man. Lover.
Hers.
Sometimes life could be very, very good.
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“Maddie,” he said with shocking calm. A furious calm, if she wasn’t mistaken, but still.
“I’m on leave of absence,” she reminded him, not telling him that it looked like it might be permanent. Hell, she could hardly think it, much less say it out loud. “As in—I’m not currently working for you. So what’s happening in my life is none of your business.”
“That might have been true a few minutes ago. But now we’re related.”
“Stop it.”
“No, you stop it.” Yes, definitely fury. “What the hell is this all about, Maddie? Who was that asshole on the phone?”
She wasn’t moved by much, but him standing there in that tall, muscled package, wrapped by all that raw and dangerous male beauty made her swallow hard. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“Try me.”
Try him? That had been her greatest fantasy up until Leena had shown up and Maddie’s entire world of glass had shattered. Before that, she’d wanted to try him every which way possible, but that was going to be just a fantasy now, a remote one. She reached for the front door, but before she could open it, he placed his hand on the wood, effortlessly holding it closed above her head.
Facing the door, she eyeballed his arm, taut with strength. The fingers of his hand were spread wide. He had long fingers, scarred from all the planes he’d rebuilt. They were capable fingers, always warm, and the clincher…they knew how to touch. He’d held her face that time she’d kissed him, and if she closed her eyes, she could still feel his fingers on her jaw. She’d spent a lifetime schooling herself against feeling too much, against giving away too much of herself, especially to men. But the men she’d been with didn’t make her nerves sing and her pulse jump by just looking at them.
Brody did.
“Maddie.”
“It was nice of you to visit. But as you can see, now’s not a good time.”
He lifted his hand and traced a finger over the exit wound on the back of her shoulder. “Are you feeling okay?”
She loved his touch. Way too much. “Yes.” Unfortunately, the man was a virtual mule when he wanted to be, unmovable, staunch in his opinions. On her best day, she might have gone toe to toe with him, no problem, using that voice of honey she’d perfected, her smile of ice, and the argumentative skills she’d honed well over the years. She was every bit as stubborn as he, and she would have won—she’d have seen to it.
But this wasn’t her best day, not by far. In fact, it was quickly gearing up to be one of her top three worst ever. “Don’t make me kick your ass out of here.”
“I think I can take you.”
With a sigh, she dropped her forehead to the door and just breathed. Not easy with well over six feet of solid, warm muscle encroaching into the personal space behind her.
And he was encroaching.
Not that her body minded. Nope, it had apparently disengaged from her brain and was making a break for freedom.
But then he did something that made it all the more difficult. He stepped even closer so that she actually felt his thighs brush the backs of hers. His chest did the same to her back, and then, oh God, and then she felt his breath on her temple.
She had to close her eyes. Don’t turn around because then you’ll be in his arms, and you just might be stupid enough to kiss him again, get lost in him…
He slipped an arm around her waist, hard and corded with strength. Adrenaline and something else, something much more dangerous to her well-being, washed through her veins, followed by a high tide of stark desperation.
If she pushed back against that body, she could rub all her good spots to his. No.
Yes.
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This was absurd. She was just excited, a little nervous, high on possibility and the idea of a fresh start, even if she’d never imagined starting over back in quiet, boring little Wrightsville, the town she’d been dying to leave ever since she’d been old enough to understand that roads led away from it.
As she leaned against the VW, breathing in the air’s cool bite, she watched Nick direct the SUV around the tangled vehicles. She’d thought a lot about what moving home would be like, about old friends and second chances and possibilities she’d never considered.
But she’d never really thought about temptation, at least not with Nick Griffin in the same sentence.
By the time Nick moved the squad car to the shoulder, and started up the chugging, shuddering VW bus to move it, too, he’d recovered from most of his surprise.
Okay, maybe not most, but a lot. Some, at least. And then he stepped out of the an
cient bus and turned around to look at Grace, leaning against a tree trunk on the riverbank, her dark curls blowing around her face and her eyes hidden behind a pair of sunglasses, a sucker punch of shock hit him in the gut all over again.
Grace Lamb was the last person he ever expected to see in Wrightsville apart from her obligatory Christmas visit to her dad. But here she was, live and in living color, the epitome of trouble on two legs.
Two legs, he realized, that had somehow gotten a lot longer in the years since he’d seen her last. Long, slim legs in faded jeans, with ridiculous bright pink boots on her feet.
He caught himself with a cough. Grace was his best friend Tommy’s little sister. She didn’t have…legs. Well, yeah, of course she had legs, but not…legs. Not like that, anyway. That had definitely changed sometime in the past couple of years.
Running a stop sign and smacking into a police car, though, that was the Grace he had always known.
“Impulsive” was her middle name. Along with “reckless,” “fearless,” and, well, “distracted by whatever shiny new thing came along.” Which wasn’t a single word, but whatever. It was still the truth.
Grace had once set her backyard on fire when she tried to start the grill to make lunch for her father. Another time she’d decided to try ice fishing on the pond, only to sink into the water once she started cutting through the pond’s frozen skin. She’d tried to go blond, but she’d used household bleach on her dark curls, nearly choking herself on the fumes in the process.
And that was all before she was eleven.
The girl was a walking disaster and always had been. Except she wasn’t a girl anymore, and judging by the suitcases and boxes he could see through the VW’s windows, she planned to be back in town for a while. Which was just frigging weird, because the one thing that Grace had always been was restless, most of all to get out of Wrightsville.
“Billy will be down any minute,” he said as he walked back to her.
She tilted her head, looking up at him quizzically. “Billy?”
“Down at the precinct,” Nick explained, settling his hips against the hood of the cruiser and crossing his arms over his chest. “I can’t write up my own report, since I was involved.”
“There’s going to be a report?” She took off her sunglasses and turned horrified brown eyes on him. “It’s just a little fender bender! Hardly worth mentioning, really. I can pay for the damage and no one even has to know…” She trailed off when he stared her down, arms still folded over his chest, immovable.
Leave it to Grace. Yeah, he’d taken care of the Great Microwave Disaster of 1988, and the time she’d lost the two Pomeranians she was dog sitting, but this was a little different. It was an official police vehicle, not his own battered Jeep, and Grace, well…he shook his head. As far as he could tell, she had never really learned to anticipate consequences.
Like wearing jeans that looked molded to her hips, and a white blouse that didn’t completely hide the outline of a lacy bra.
Not that he was looking. Definitely not. He swallowed back a growl of arousal, and turned toward the VW, gesturing vaguely. “What is all that, Grace? What are you doing here?”
He’d forgotten how blinding her smile could be, and it surprised him all over again. He was still blinking at the brilliance of it when she said, “Coming home, of course.”
His eyebrows nearly shot off the top his head. “You’re…moving back here? To Wrightsville?”
“You don’t have to say it like I just announced I’m having an alien love child and going on the talk-show circuit.” She frowned, the light in her eyes turning to smoke the way it always did when she was mad at him. Boy, was that look familiar.
“Doesn’t Robert work in New York?” he asked, glancing at the old bus again. And why on earth was Grace driving that thing? He didn’t know Robert well, or really at all, but he did know he wasn’t the vintage hippie chic type. “Commuting to Bucks County is an awful long trip.”
“Robert won’t be commuting.” It was Grace’s turn to fold her arms in front of her, but Nick was surprised to realize she didn’t look upset. Instead, she was calm, almost peaceful. “Robert is moving to Chicago, to work for The Museum of Contemporary Art.”
If his eyes widened any further, they’d probably roll out of his head, Nick realized with a start. “And you’re…?”
“Not,” she said simply, and gave him another smile. The sun gleamed on her hair. “I’m starting over, Nick. I’m getting a divorce, and I’m going to figure out a career, and I’m going to do it right here in Wrightsville.”
Just when he’d convinced himself Wrightsville was getting a little boring, Nick contemplated as he restrained a groan, Grace back in town, at loose ends, looking for work and maybe romance?
They were all doomed.
Keep an eye out for Karen Kelley,
THE BAD BOYS GUIDE
TO THE GALAXY,
coming next month from Brava…
“Where’s your dress…” He waved a finger around. “Thingy…robe whatchamacallit?” He finally pointed toward her.
She raised an eyebrow. He didn’t seem to notice the clean floor. Disappointment filled her. She’d hoped for more. Silly, she knew. After all, he was an earthman and she shouldn’t have cared what he thought.
“My robe was getting dirty along the hem so I removed it.”
Her gaze traveled slowly over him, noting the bulge below his waist. It was quite large. Odd. She mentally shook her head.
“Your clothes are quite dirty. Once again, I’ve proven that I’m superior in my way of thinking,” she told him.
“You’re naked.”
She glanced down. “You’re very observant,” she said, using his earlier words. “Did you know there’s a slight breeze outside? It made my nipples tingle and felt quite pleasant. Not that I would be tempted to stay on earth because of a breeze.”
“You…you…can’t…”
She frowned, “There’s something wrong with your speech. Are you ill? If you’d like, I can retrieve my diagnostic tool and examine you.” He was sweating. Not good. She only hoped she didn’t catch what he had.
“You can’t go around without clothes,” he sputtered. “And I’m not sick.”
“Then what are you?”
“Horny!” He marched to the other room, returning in a few minutes with her robe. “You can’t go around naked.”
“Why not?” She slipped her arms into the robe and belted it. “It causes a certain reaction in men.”
“What kind of a reaction?”
What an interesting topic. She wanted to know more. Maybe they would be able to have a scientific conversation.
Kia had only talked about battles and Mala had talked about exploration of other planets, but Sam was actually speaking about something to do with the body. It was a very stimulating discussion.
He ran a hand through his hair. “I’m going to kill Nick,” he grumbled. “No one said anything about having to explain the birds and bees.”
“And what’s so important about these birds and bees?”
He drew in a deep breath. “When a man sees a naked woman, it causes certain reactions inside him.”
“Like the bulge in your pants? It wasn’t there before.”
“Ah, Lord.”
“Did my nakedness do that?”
“You’re very beautiful.”
“But I’m not supposed to think so.”
“No, we’re not talking about that right now.”
She was so confused. Sam wasn’t making sense. “Then please explain what we are talking about.”
“Sex,” he blurted. “When a man sees a beautiful and very sexy naked woman it causes him to think about having sex with her.”
He looked relieved to finally have said so much. She thought about his words for a moment. A companion unit did not have these reactions unless buttons were pushed, and even then their response would be generic. This was very unusual. But also exciting that her nak
edness would make him want to copulate. She felt quite powerful.
And she was also horny now that she knew what the word meant. She untied her robe and opened it. “Then we will join.”
He strangled and coughed again and jerked her robe closed. “No, it’s not done like that. Damnit, I’m not a companion unit to perform whenever you decide you need sex.”
“But don’t you want sex?”
“There are emotions that need to be involved. I’m not one of those guys who jump on top of a woman, gets his jollies and then goes his own way.”
“You want me on top?” She’d never been on top but she thought she could manage.
He firmly tied her robe, then raised her chin until her gaze met his.
“When I make love with a woman, I want her to know damn well who she’s with, and there won’t be anything clinical about it.” He lowered his mouth to hers.
He was touching her again. She should remind him that it was forbidden to touch a healer. But there was something about his lips against hers, the way he brushed his tongue over them, then delved inside that made her body ache, made her want to lean in closer, made her want to have sex other than just to relieve herself of stress.
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Copyright © 2008 by Kensington Publishing Corp.
“Miss Congeniality” copyright © by Shelly Laurenston
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When He Was Bad Page 27
