Men Love Curves: BBW Romance

by Ruby Madden

  “This is nothing, Jackson.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “And we need to keep it that way.”

  Her violet-blue eyes stayed locked on his for a long moment as the words hung in the air between them. An unusually vulnerable expression bloomed over her face, catching Jackson's breath in his throat at the suddenly raw hunger he saw there. Pure, aching, genuine desire.

  For him.

  Before he could process what he was seeing, Tamsin gave her head a short, decisive shake. Wrenching her gaze away from his, she simply turned and walked back inside. Leaving Jackson standing alone, somewhat dazed, still wondering what the hell was going on.

  Because whatever it was, it was definitely a hell of a lot more than nothing.

  Chapter Four

  "And don't forget about the latest petition from the Lost River Fork pack. They're still asking for protected status." Slight annoyance creased Trevor's brow. "I also left you notes—"

  "Trevor." Tamsin put her hand on her brother's arm as Cassie unsuccessfully stifled a smile at her mate's last-minute directives. "You know perfectly well you've left the pack in good hands. Now, shoo. I'm sure the pilot doesn't want to be kept around all day waiting for you."

  Trevor drew breath as if to speak again, but Tamsin quickly reached forward to peck him on the cheek with a sisterly kiss. "I have every single note you left for me," she said firmly, nodding to the car driver to open the door for her so she could get back in. "Every single text, every single email, and the notes from every single sit-down meeting you and I and Jackson have had"—and really, did a little thrill have to zip through her just thinking about that damned man?—"is emblazoned on my brain. You deserve this vacation. You deserve this honeymoon with your beautiful, blushing bride."

  Cassie laughed and began tugging Trevor towards the plane. "She's right. They've got it! Let's go. You've been doing nothing but telling me about how amazing Europe is for the last hour." The honeymoon destination had been a surprise to Cassie, one Trevor had revealed to her only as they and Tamsin were being whisked to the airport in one of the pack's large black suburbans. "I can't wait. You know perfectly well I've never been out of Wicked Mountain Town."

  Tamsin didn't bother to hide her smile as Cassie narrowed her eyes at her mate. "You and I have a lot of talking to do about the so-called 'glamour' that's on my town." A flash of playful challenge from Cassie's new wolf side flared in her expression as she looked at her mate, though the smile hadn't left her lips. "When we get back, there are going to be some changes happening in the pack."

  Once again Trevor made as if to speak, but this time both women went after him, Cassie pulling and Tamsin pushing on his back to urge him toward the private jet awaiting them. "Go, Trevor," Tamsin said, laughing. "It's only a month. You and Cassie have the rest of your lives to run the pack. I don't want to hear anything from you while you're gone, unless it's pictures of the two of you smiling in front of all the great sights of Europe. Understood?"

  Trevor finally gave up, letting his new wife pulled him toward the plane. "Fine," he said over his shoulder to his sister, a genuine smile breaking out across his features. "Yes, of course I trust you and Jackson. Implicitly," he added, laughing now as Cassie picked up her steps into a little trot, still tugging him along. “I know I'm leaving the pack in excellent hands.”

  Tamsin kept smiling and waving at them from her where she stood by the car. Firmly, she stamped down an image of Jackson's exceedingly charming, utterly captivating smile as it flashed through her head.

  "Of course you can trust us," she called after her brother. "Have fun!" Tamsin didn't bother waiting to watch them board the pack's private jet. With a smile and last wave at their retreating backs, she turned back toward the waiting vehicle, where the driver stood holding the back door open for her. Sliding into the plush, leathered recesses of the car, she smiled her thanks at the driver, then immediately turned her attention back down to her phone and the endless lists and emails she had on it.

  As the driver shut the door and got in behind the wheel to take her on the hours-long drive back to the pack estate, Tamsin sighed, letting the smile fade from her face. Endless responsibilities loomed up in black-and-white as she stared at her phone screen. Meetings, delegating, overseeing, mediation, punishment, multiple petitions from pack members, town members, the adjacent Lost River Fork Pack, and seemingly endless different lists from Trevor of certain things he expected her and Jackson to accomplish while they ruled the pack in his stead while he was off enjoying his new wife and bouncing around the playgrounds of Europe for a month.

  Tamsin didn't begrudge him his happiness, not for single heartbeat. She'd been Cassie's most ardent supporter from the moment she realized that Cassie was Trevor's true mate. She adored seeing her brother and alpha once again genuinely excited to be alive. She also had a wonderful, steadfast new sister again. It all made her happier than anything in the world.

  It also left with such a multitude of tasks over the next four weeks that she felt positively exhausted just thinking about it. She planned to use the sanctuary of the quiet drive back to sort out the specifics of the rest of her day and the rest of this first week.

  And, of course, to consider everything she would have to do with Jackson. Together. Because he was in charge with her.

  Dammit.

  She'd studiously avoided Jackson the rest of the night of the wedding. Her duty to her pack was paramount, and Tamsin took it very seriously. The Reginald family had been in charge of the Wicked Mountain Wolf Pack for the past five hundred years. Tamsin wasn't about to let a slow-grinning, heart-thumping, panty-melting bad boy of wolf disrupt her concentration or the importance of her duty to her alpha and her pack. Nope. Not a chance of that.

  No way was Jackson Rule, with his sexy gaze and honey-laced gravel voice, going to distract her from her duties.

  She was much too strong and self-controlled for that kind of nonsense. With a determined sigh, she tackled the first demanding email on her list, pushing aside all thoughts of wickedly teasing green eyes.

  ~~~

  Only after he'd tossed and turned for half an hour did Jackson, snarling with irritation at being wide awake in the middle of the night after a long, tiring day, finally give up the idea of getting back to sleep. Kicking off the light sheet tangled with his legs, he swung his feet to the floor of his spacious room and sat up on his rumpled bed.

  Images of dark, tousled hair, gorgeous deep blue eyes, and the pouting tease of lips whispering “you can't have me” still tumbled around his head. He'd gone to bed early with a slamming headache after a day filled with onerous council duties he still could hardly believe were part of his temporary duties. Fervently, he wished his alpha would return sooner than planned from his honeymoon. Running the pack was a hell of a lot harder than Jackson had ever imagined.

  Unfortunately, so was staying away from Tamsin. He'd kept his distance the last few days in respect to her apparent wishes, as well as his own still troubled realization that whatever brewed between them was so tempting as to be dangerous.

  So forbidden as to be dangerously tempting.

  “Fuck me,” he muttered. His exasperated words dropped into the 2am silence that encased his quarters. Grimacing at his own idiotic circle of thoughts, Jackson stood up and strode to his chest of drawers. Yanking open one drawer, which slid easily along on its impeccably-crafted rollers, he grabbed out a pair of light cotton pants and pulled them on. Glancing down, he barked out a short laugh at his body's inability to rid itself of thoughts of Tamsin as well. His aching half-erection slightly tented the pants in testament to the images of her smooth skin and insanely kissable full lips that had tormented him since he roused earlier from disturbing dreams in which he reached for her time and again, only to have her twist out of his grasp with that teasing laugh as she shook a finger at him in admonishment.

  You can't have me, Jackson. The echo of her dream voice still tiptoed through his head in a restless
chant, the irritation of which had apparently awoken him.

  Groaning, he scoured at his eyes and head with his hand, rubbing so hard he saw stars for second.

  It didn't matter. Tamsin Reginald still sashayed through his mind, threatening to drive him mad with the force of his desire for her. He hadn't felt this wildly out of control about a woman ever since he first discovered their softly intriguing delights when he was still young enough to have fuzz on his lip and an embarrassing crack in his voice when he spoke. He'd been imagining finally tasting her lips, feeling the sweet softness of her breasts in his hands, holding onto her lush hips as he drove himself hard and mercilessly inside her, their mingled cries shortening his breath even as he thought about it.

  “Fool.” He bit the word out savagely, hoping it would shake some sense back into him.

  It didn't. Tamsin's gorgeous eyes, dark and unfocused with desire, still taunted him with her untouchable state.

  The sister of the alpha was beyond off-limits to the pack beta. It didn't matter than he was the alpha's best friend, or that a frisson of something very intriguing sparked between him and Tamsin. She was forbidden. He had to stop thinking of the woman in the same carnal way he tended to think of all women.

  The same carnal way he'd thought of not a single other woman since the night before he left for his vacation, despite all his efforts to be exceedingly carnal with every other woman he possibly could in order to shake the sweet temptation of Tamsin from his every thought.

  Well, damn him to hell and back for being an actual fool. The only solution he saw at the moment was a middle-of-the-night treat. Not, unfortunately, the kind he'd prefer to have—the kind that would involve tasting Tamsin's sweetness. No, the only thing to assuage his inability to sleep at the moment was a literal snack from the kitchens.

  Jackson never told anyone that when he had a restless night, he sometimes enjoyed swigging down a glass of cold milk and munching on whatever sweets the pack's chef had left out. He had a reputation as a lady-killing badass to protect, after all.

  Opening the door to the hallway, he headed out clad only in his pants. The blessedly cool breeze of the late summer night tickled on his bare arms and chest as he padded down the long, quiet corridors to the downstairs kitchen.

  Very deliberately, he didn't even glance at Tamsin's door when he passed it. Too damned bad he couldn't help but catch her sweet, alluring scent as he strode by. Her rich, natural fragrance of luscious molasses layered with the tang of spiced oranges, lingering in the hallway outside her quarters, threatened to overcome his reason and urge him to instead go to her.

  Clenching his jaw hard enough to hurt, Jackson forced his steps onward and away.

  ~~~

  Even though the sun had long set, the night air was still warm on this late-summer night. Tamsin had her head propped up on one hand as she read through a stack of petitions. With her other hand she scrawled her initials on each one, yay or nay as she saw fit. She'd spent the last several hours very carefully reading the details of each petition in the online files accessible only to her and the rest of the council members. The printed signature pages made up a stack nearly an inch thick. Trevor had left her with his decisive notes on each petition as to whether or not he thought it should be granted.

  Petitions were an extremely old-fashioned method of arguing a case for what someone wanted. But the system worked. Despite her somewhat bleary-eyed state, Tamsin plowed through. She wanted to finish them tonight, so she could bring them to the Council meeting in the morning as completed documents. Heaving a sigh, she got back to it.

  Another twenty minutes passed before she could finally set down her pen. Gently rolling her head about on her shoulders, she finally sat up and stretched. Her neck and back twinged at her, letting her know that sitting for so many hours bent over paperwork was not the ideal situation. Her stomach rumbled as well. Tamsin glanced at the clock on the wall above her desk. Nearly 2a.m. If she really wanted to, she could wake up one of the kitchen staff and have them bring her a snack. But that never had been Tamsin's style, not even in the premodern era when a household full of servants was de rigueur. Instead, she rolled her chair back from her desk and padded out of her office to head down the long hallway and then downstairs to the kitchen.

  The estate's main kitchen was an enormous, state-of-the-art affair filled with every kind of modern gizmo that struck the fancy of the chef and her staff, as well as several walk-in coolers and freezers, a temperature controlled wine room filled with hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of the best vintages, and the fanciest commercial coffee and espresso maker available on the market, among other toys. This main kitchen always had a selection of quick food available to anyone who needed a snack, no matter the time of day or night. Werewolves had large appetites.

  Tamsin rifled around in one of the smaller refrigerators where easy snacks were kept for the taking. It was of course still filled with leftover sweets and treats from the wedding reception. Her eyes lit up as she spied a plate of one of the luscious devil's food chocolate type cakes she particularly enjoyed at the reception. Stomach rumbling even more, she pulled it out to cut herself a generous slice. Armed with that and a glass of ice water, she sat at the small table nestled into an out-of-the-way corner of the kitchen meant precisely for those who wanted to grab a quick bite while staying out of the way of any current preparations that might be going on in the place.

  Although Tamsin had the ability, just as any shifter did, to magically adjust her appearance to mimic the latest fashionable body type, she never did. Oh, she knew she was blessed with natural good looks. To be honest, the vast majority of werewolves were. They were a healthy bunch, and since they made up less than 10% of the planet's population, they kept tight control over their own genetics. Tamsin liked her food, and she never once enjoyed any of the ridiculous fads that swept many corners of the world with demands that women be stick-thin or caricatured as overly sexualized little children's dolls. While she wasn't nearly as curvy as her friend and now sister-in-law Cassie, and in fact Cassie considered her to be slim by comparison, Tamsin was considered more generously sized than most female werewolves.

  And that certainly wasn't her fucking problem if anyone had an issue with it. None of the men she'd ever invited to her bed had the slightest problem with her body.

  It certainly seemed that Jackson had no problems looking at it with clear appreciation. Lifting a decadent bite of the cake to her mouth, which was good enough that she rolled her eyes in appreciation as the taste exploded in her mouth, she allowed herself another second to contemplate what the hell might be going on between her and him.

  Not that there was anything going on.

  Except an underlying current of a wild attention should never feel with him. She couldn't have that sort of tension with him. They were on the same team, part of the same inner circle that guided and controlled this pack filled with volatile wolf shifters. There could be no room for emotions or any other disastrous entanglements between them. Tamsin Reginald was expected to officially mate a werewolf of high standing. One who would add even more prominence to the pack. One with whom she could crate another dynasty of powerful werewolves.

  Besides, it wasn't as if she was interested in Jackson. Jackson the careless playboy. She took another bite of cake into her mouth, chewing a little more aggressively. That bad boy. The smug, cocky, oh so sure of himself shifter who thought she was just going to lie down and let him have his way with her just as he did with every other woman. Well, that was definitely not going to happen. Ever. In fact—

  "Midnight snack, hmm?"

  Tamsin nearly jumped out of her skin, whipping her head up to look across the kitchen. Jackson the insanely sexy playboy stood in the doorway, watching her as she sat at the table enjoying her chocolate cake.

  Oh. Fucking. Wow.

  Tamsin knew she was staring. But really, there was nothing she could do about it. He was giving her a hell of an eyefu
l to stare at.

  Jackson wore black pajama pants that clung low on his hips, and nothing else. Tamsin's eyes traveled from his dark, tousled hair down over his ridiculously sculpted broad shoulders and chest, down to the abs that were a genuine six pack, which tapered into a more narrow waist, below which just the hint of a line of dusky hair starting below his bellybutton headed down beneath his pajama pants, where—

  Tamsin swallowed the last little bite of chocolate cake in her mouth as a prickling rush of heat roared over her entire body. From her scalp down to her toenails, she felt what she knew was purely primal arousal.

  Damn him to hell. Standing there like some sort of naked sex god, smiling that smile that dropped panties and busted hearts all over the damn country, and knowing that she was looking at him just like thousands of women before her had looked at him.

  This was ridiculous. She couldn't do this. Barely thinking about the words that were about to come out of her mouth, she tossed a verbal missile at him.

  "Yes, because I've been working hard through the evening in order to be prepared for the Council meeting in the morning. But you, of course, have been dallying in bed with your latest conquest and simply needed to replenish your energy?" Tamsin arched an eyebrow at the smug-faced bad boy lounging in the doorway, convinced that she'd hit upon the reason he too was raiding the kitchens in the wee hours.

  Jackson raised his own eyebrows back at her, his smile deepening into pure panty-melting glory. "As usual, my reputation needs no introduction." Very slowly, he began to stalk into the kitchen. Straight toward Tamsin. "I'm glad you have a full understanding of my raison d'être in this world," he said, his voice dropping to a purely seductive register.