by Olivia Arran
My eyes flashed open, his to command, settling on his face, the square jaw now tight and clenched as he fought for control. “We shouldn’t,” I whispered in a voice hoarse and needy, one that I didn’t recognize.
His lips parted, beckoning me. “A kiss between friends?” It was an insidious growl, designed to slide past my defenses.
Held in his gaze, I lowered myself until my chest pressed against his, my breasts giving way and molding themselves to his harder frame, my hands sliding up until my fingers grazed strands of his hair. Nose to nose, I held my breath, searching for the answer in his eyes. At this exact moment in time, we were man and woman, nothing more, nothing less. Our animals circled behind our eyes, but they weren’t a party to this union, they were bystanders, watching in the shadows. Is this why Julie had allowed herself to fall for Tom? Because she couldn’t do anything but fall in love with the man, despite his beast?
Strength stared back at me. And kindness. Loyalty. Honesty. I already knew all this about Cade, but I didn’t know the man behind the values. Was it enough? Would the fact that we were destined for each other through some kind of mystical pairing that our beasts had ordained to be true, really be enough to last a lifetime?
“You’re thinking too hard,” he murmured, his hand leaving my hip and sliding into my hair.
“You don’t think hard enough.”
He tugged my hair, winding his fingers further into the strands, transmitting his need for me through a simple touch. He wouldn’t press me, not after last time. This time I had to come to him. His wounded pride demanded it.
He rolled his hips again, rubbing his already rock hard shaft against me with a groan. “You’re so determined to say it’s over before it’s even had the chance to start. What if you’re wrong? What if I could be the best thing that ever happened to you?”
My splutter drew a cocky grin from him. Tease.
He chuckled at the scowl on my face. “Sweetheart, I already know you’re the best thing to ever happen to me.”
His words drew blood, slicing through my wall of resistance as he bared his soul without pretense or ego. He could have hedged and erred on the side of caution, after all, I’d rejected him on more than one occasion. Instead, he laid there beneath me with a steady smile that promised everything, if I only took a chance. On him.
I breathed my answer, as if by letting the air carry it, it bypassed all my normal filters—like my sanity and promises made to people long gone. “No promises. No mating.”
“Yet.” The calmness was still there, but it carried an edge of … something. Determination? Hurt? I wasn’t sure, but he hadn’t said no.
“And no sex.”
That got his attention. His hand tightened on my hip, fingers flexing. “Uh—”
“I mean it.” I pulled my head away so I could focus more clearly, his hand allowing me, but not letting go. “We can date. Maybe kiss a little. Make out, but sex? Uh huh.” I shook my head. In my mind, it was a major commitment, something that could very easily lead to biting, which meant mating. Which meant commitment.
His eyes narrowed, a muscle jumping in his jaw. “Okay. No sex.” The scowl slid up into a smirk, his expression devious. “I’ve got to warn you; you’re going to regret it.”
“We’ll see,” I huffed.
Sliding his hand free of my hair, it flew back to my hip, tightening in an iron grip as he thrust up beneath me, grinding my soft center down against his impossibly hard shaft.
My moan was out before I could stop it, delicious warmth pooling between my legs.
He thrust again, this time tilting and sliding so he rubbed back and forth, his hands encouraging me to rock. “Then again, there’s a lot of other fun things we could do.”
Yes, yes, yes, I moaned inside my head, my thighs tensing and hips tilting to meet his as we rocked together.
The world tilted and my back hit the floor, water instantly soaking through my top and freezing my back. Heat blanketed me, his chest pressing into mine as he pushed my legs wide, settling himself between. At this angle, his height was a disadvantage, his lips too far away for me to attack, but the safety of his chest muffled my groan as a pulse of heat shot out from my core at the feel of him stretched out above me, his heavy weight holding me down. Rotating his hips, he dragged another groan from my chest, seeming to delight in slowly torturing me.
With a mind of their own, my legs wrapped around his waist, heels digging into the back of his thighs and pelvis tilting, my hands leaving the floor and scratching a trail down his back. We were fully clothed—hadn’t even kissed—and yet he had me balancing on the edge of complete combustion. It was the heat of him, the feel of him, the complete submersion in a world where he was the only thing that existed, his soft groans and throaty rumble, the hard weight between his legs, the clench of his ass beneath my hands as he ground against me again and again, the taste of him on my lips as I pressed my mouth against the open slash of his shirt, tasting the saltiness of his skin as I stifled the need to cry out. To gasp and moan and groan.
To demand he strip me naked and thrust inside me. Screw what I’d said before. Screw it. Screw him. Screw—
My back arched, nails digging into his shoulders, neck bending as my orgasm rolled over me, flattening me with its pure power and dragging a mangled scream from my lungs.
He stilled, propping himself up on his arms and staring down at me, face shadowed and unreadable. “Plenty of fun things to do,” he repeated, in a voice husky and barely human.
Chapter Fifteen
Cade
Her eyelids fluttered, revealing eyes darkened with languid lust. Cheeks flushed with the heat of her arousal, I knew that if I slid my hand inside her jeans, I’d find her hot and wet, quivering with need and more than ready for me. I could smell it on the air, the sweet scent of her liquid heat, and my mouth watered with the need to taste.
She shuddered, her breath dusting across my face, almost dragging another groan from my lungs. My cock ached, hard almost to the point of pain, my balls tight and full, but this wasn’t about me. This was her time, my chance to convince her that I’d look after her, that I could be the man to take care of her needs.
Sliding down her body, I slid her top up, drawing circles on her soft stomach with my tongue, tracing the edge of her belly button as I popped the button on her jeans.
She stiffened, her hands flying to my shoulders.
“Shhh. I promised, didn’t I?” Easing her zipper down, I pressed a kiss to the soft skin skimming the black lace of her panties, sliding my hands around to cup her ass and drag the denim down. Easing her jeans off, I sat back on my knees and allowed myself to stare, letting my appreciation fill my eyes. Sprawled beneath me, her hair fanned out around her head and eyes wide, her chest rose and fell in shuddering gasps, pushing her breasts up and out, her nipples twin peaks in the soft cotton and begging for attention. Tiny black panties clung to her generous hips, the soft lace hugging and playing peekaboo with her skin, the curls between her legs dark and hiding secrets I couldn’t wait to uncover.
My cock got a second of my attention, just long enough to shove it out of the way so that my jeans didn’t cut off all circulation.
Her quick intake of breath stroked my ego as her eyes stroked the outline of my shaft through the denim. I bit back the growl, willing my body to obey. This was for her. I could take care of my blue balls later.
My mouth landed on her nipple, sucking the peak into my mouth through the soft cotton, teeth gently biting down as I tugged, hand cupping and squeezing her neglected breast as I tongued and sucked, lapping at her breast until she moaned, her back arching and eyelids fluttering shut. Her fingers dug into the floor as she offered herself to me, her legs parting beneath mine in silent invitation. Most likely unwitting invitation, but how the hell could a man say no?
Moving to her other breast, I repeated my ministrations, letting her feel the edge of my teeth, filing away her tiny gasp, the shiver that followed, the way her throa
t worked as she tried to swallow back the plea that fell from her lips. Sliding my hand down her stomach, I slid my hand beneath the lace. Fuck. She was wet. Hot. My finger slid through her curls, circling her entrance, teasing ragged gasps and breathy moans. Sliding one finger inside her, I slowed, waiting for her to adjust as her inner walls gripped my digit and squeezed tight. As she relaxed, I added another finger, her body tensing beneath me as her eyes flew open. Awareness stared back at me, filtered with the kind of naked longing that swept away all restraint.
Fuck that, it obliterated it.
I pumped my hand against her, sliding deep until my knuckles bumped her clit, hooking my fingers as I retreated and feeling for that special spot. The bundle of nerves that would drive her insane. She buckled against me, her hips following my hand as her head rolled to the side, a broken sound trickling from her mouth.
“That’s right, sweetheart. Let go,” I growled, pumping my fingers again, sliding them back and forth, again and again. Sliding my free hand under her ass, I cupped her hip, holding her tight so she couldn’t retreat, couldn’t do anything but feel me giving this to her, accept the pleasure as it built in waves. So slick and wet, my fingers slid easily, her body greedy and grasping as it tried to hold on and not let go.
There was only one thing missing.
Walking my knees back, I leaned down and took a deep breath, dragging her scent into my lungs and memorizing it. My mouth hovered over where my fingers fucked into her. “Look at me,” I ordered.
Her mouth open on a moan, her eyes flew open, searching for me.
“Down here, sweetheart.” I continued to rock my fingers into her, sliding my free hand around and parting her curls until she was revealed in all her glistening glory.
Her head tilted, shock registering.
I attacked, swiping my tongue through her folds until I found her clit, swirling around the tiny nub and sucking, my eyes never leaving her face as her back arched off the floor, her head falling back, as a scream ripped free, her inner muscles clenching around my fingers in a pulsating rhythm that had me locking down every instinct in my body that demanded I release my cock and slid on into that warmth.
But, fuck, it was hard. Literally. Swirling my tongue in lazy strokes, I eased my fingers out of her, letting her drift back down, the hazy bliss on her face worth the effort of controlling myself. She let out a low hum of pleasure, her mouth curving up in a lazy crooked smile. Crawling up her body, I settled in next to her, my hand stroking in possessive swirls over her stomach, my other hand braced under my head as I stared down at her, waiting for the fuzziness of the orgasm to fade.
My cock ached, my balls were threatening to explode, but it was all worth it the second her eyes focused on my face and she grinned.
“Wow.” The word was carried on a gust of air between us. Rolling her head from side to side, she rolled over onto her side to face me, her hand hovering over my waist, then my hip, then heading back to her side.
I grabbed her hand, halting its retreat and placed it on my hip. “You can touch me anytime you want.” I realized my mistake the second it was out of my mouth, as her hand slid down to the front of my jeans, her dainty fingers tracing the outline of my shaft. My hips jerked into her hand before I could stop them. Grabbing her hand for a second time, I initially meant to drag it away, but instead found myself pressing harder, sliding her hand up and down the bulge. “This is how much I loved getting you off,” I groaned, my hips tilting of their own accord as her thumb found and stroked across the head of my cock, sliding back and forth with agonizing deliberation.
Her lips had parted, her breath quickening and her attention riveted on where her hand stroked across my body.
This is meant to be about her, I argued with myself silently. No. Down boy. I argued with my cock, who right at this moment was doing a damn good job of ruling my head.
She cleared her throat, her lips still parted.
I imagined sliding my shaft between those lips, her throat tightening around me as she licked and sucked, her blue eyes staring up at me from between my thighs.
I’d last two goddamn seconds.
This time my hand on hers actually did what it was meant to do. “You’re killing me,” I forced out, peeling her fingers away and pressing them to my chest, where it was safe. My balls wanted to kick my ass, but I knew that if she touched me, I wouldn’t be able to hold back. I’d want to be inside her, fucking her. Making love to her. Screwing her until she couldn’t do anything but tremble and come with my name on her lips.
And I’d mark her.
I didn’t lie to myself; I knew my limits. This woman was mine and the second I was inside her, the beast inside me would claim her.
“It’s a good thing you took sex off the table,” I muttered, forcing myself to warn her of the thoughts running through my head. Of the dark side of my beast, the one that fought for control despite my promise to her. “I want to make you mine, sweetheart, and your hand around my cock was making it very difficult to keep my promise.”
I watched as comprehension dawned in her lust filled eyes. She swallowed, her throat working as she searched for the words I knew I didn’t want to hear. “Okay.” That was it, all she whispered, but it was enough for me to tighten my grasp on my control until it was iron clad.
Pressing a kiss to her forehead, I helped her tug up her jeans. Rolling to my feet, I helped her stand, then let go, retreating over to where the mop bucket had skidded to a halt. Better to have air between us than skin and fire. Righting the bucket, I snagged the mop and started dragging it over the floor, giving my hands something else to do rather than drag her back to me and pin her to the counter.
“Cade?” My name on her lips carried a thousand questions.
I wrung the mop out. “Yep?”
“Why did you stop by?”
I braced the mop under my arm, the events of the morning coming crashing back. “Shit.” Dragging a hand over my face, I cursed again under my breath. One look at her and everything else had gone clear out of my head. “Why don’t you sit down?”
She frowned at me, finishing buttoning her jeans, even though they were sticking to her legs, still soaked from our fall.
And her slick, hot, wet— Fuck! Concentrate. Joining her at the table, I propped the mop against the side and met her worried frown. “We caught some rogues trying to leave Heartsridge this morning.”
Her eyebrows shot up, though she flinched, probably at the word I’d used. Rogue. “Leave?”
Yeah, she got it. “They’d been here a week, posing at humans.” Her lips pursed with questions, so I carried on, “They have some kind of scent blocker. We’re not sure how it works, not yet, anyway.”
Her fingers twined together where they rested on the table, thumbs stroking in circles, around and around. “Okay. But what has this got to do with me?”
Good question. I searched for an easy way to ask, and finding none, bit the bullet. “Morris told me to say hi.” And I want to rip his fucking head off for daring to speak your name. I kept that part to myself, though I’m pretty sure she could read it in my eyes. Overprotectiveness had gone nuclear, despite the fact that she wasn’t mine.
Not yet, anyway.
Patience. It would be worth it.
“Morris?”
If I hadn’t been watching, I might have missed the flare of panic before she carefully hid it behind a mask of confusion. “You know him?”
“I know a Morris. It might not be—”
“He’s a fox shifter. About my age with dark hair.” I described the man, watching carefully for another flash of panic, but it didn’t come. She either had it under control now, or I’d imagined it. Or she’d buried it so deep, she didn’t feel it anymore.
“It sounds like the man I used to know,” she murmured. “Though I have no idea what he’s doing in Heartsridge. I haven’t seen him for years,” she added, a defensive note to her voice.
“How do you know him?” I prompted, keeping my voic
e soft, with no hint of challenge.
She paused, her thumbs freezing mid swirl. “He knew my father, or, more like, his father knew my father.”
“How? Were they pack?”
“Friends, of a kind. Our fathers believed in the same truth.” She was being evasive, her gaze sliding away from me.
I slid my hand over hers. “Sweetheart, it’s really important that you tell me everything. Whoever it is that’s working with Morris has been planning this for a long time. They’ve been watching us and gathering intel for months. We don’t know what we’re up against, or whether they’re a real threat.”
“My father was a believer.” Her words were barely audible.
I felt my frown crease my forehead, dragging my eyebrows together. “Believed in what?”
“Purity.”
My confusion must have shown, because she breathed out a sigh, her chin dropping to her chest. “The movement against Registration, you must know about that.”
“I do.”
“The shifters who chose not to register, you call them rogues, I know some of them as believers. Purists. They believe that shifters are the dominant species and that we shouldn’t lower ourselves to work with humans.”
“You’re saying it like it’s still happening?”
She shrugged, but her heart wasn’t in it. “There are still rogues, right? Makes sense that there are still purists out there.”
“What else do they believe in?”
“That shifter species shouldn’t mix. That the bloodlines shouldn’t be diluted.” She squeezed my fingers and I dreaded her next words, though she couldn’t know. She couldn’t. “That procreation and mating between species is an abomination and any child created from such a union should be destroyed.” Her words crashed around my ears in a thunder of white noise.
“I presume that also includes those that have been bitten?” I managed to force out in a voice surprisingly steady.
She blinked at me, shaking her head. “No. They believe that a human bitten and changed has been reborn, so long as they follow the rules, they’re accepted.”
