Broken

by Rebecca Zanetti

  Mike held out a hand toward Wolfe. “Hi. I’m Mike. I own River Lake Realty.”

  Well, he and his daddy did.

  “Wolfe.” Wolfe reached around Dana to shake, and by the further whitening of Mike’s face, he might’ve gripped too hard. “I’m not looking to buy a house.”

  Mike yanked his hand free. “If you don’t mind, I’d like some privacy with Dana.”

  “I do mind,” Wolfe said, his voice admirably mild.

  Mike chuckled. “Good one. Okay, then how about you do me a favor and give us a second? We were rather close.” His voice dropped. “So just a small talk.”

  Her spine straightened up. Irritation swept along her skin. “Wait a minute.” She looked over her shoulder and had to tilt her head to look all the way up at Wolfe’s face. “Did he just make that sound dirty? Like we were all intimate and everything?”

  Wolfe nodded, his eyes burning. “Yeah, yeah, he did. I’d think you had sex.”

  She let herself laugh out loud. “Nope. We never had sex. A couple of dates, a few kisses, but frankly, I never really wanted it to go beyond that.”

  Wolfe’s lips tipped. “I figured. Now can I break his hand?”

  Yep. He looked serious about that. She winked and turned back around to face Mike with Wolfe a very solid force at her back. “No, let’s leave his hands alone.”

  “Just one hand?” Wolfe asked. “How about the one that keeps dialing your phone late at night? I can make sure he stops.”

  Now, finally, Mike took a wise step back.

  Dana pretended to think about it, and Wolfe started to set her to the side. “No,” she hurried to say. “If he promises not to call any longer, don’t break his hand.”

  Wolfe kept his hands on her upper arms, his body against hers. “Well?”

  “Fine.” Mike lost the amused look, started to say something, and apparently grew a brain and held his tongue. He turned on his loafer and headed toward the bar.

  “What a tool,” Wolfe muttered, sliding one hand down her arm to grasp her hand and lead her to the dance floor. Once there, he turned her and pulled her into him, setting one hand on her hip and scouting the other dancers.

  “What are you looking at?” she asked, enjoying the freedom of being able to plant her hand on his hard body.

  He focused on her upturned face. “I was looking for jortz.”

  Happiness bubbled through her and she stepped closer, enjoying the soft song as he moved them around the dance floor. “Sounds like you got a difficult bingo card.”

  “Apparently.” His gaze landed on her mouth and heated.

  Her blood sped up as if she’d taken a shot of whiskey.

  “What happens if nobody gets bingo?” Wolfe asked, his head lowering toward hers.

  Her mind fuzzed, and she tried to concentrate. “We meet for breakfast in the morning, and whoever has the most squares blocked out wins.”

  His lips were almost on hers when he straightened.

  She looked sideways to see her parents dancing right next to them, her mom smiling at her. “Hi.” Wonderful timing, darn it.

  “Hi.” Her mom swayed easily. “Oh, Wolfe. Before I forget. I ran up to our room to grab a wrap, and I heard your puppy whining in your room. So, I let him out. Dogs are allowed on the grounds here.”

  Wolfe stopped them cold.

  Dana gasped. “Oh, no. Where is he?”

  The bride shrieked from near the bar.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Wolfe grabbed Dana’s hand, unwilling to let her go. He dodged through dancers and reached the tables nearest the bar. “Oh, crap,” he muttered.

  Dana halted next to him, grabbing his arm to keep her balance. “Whoa.”

  Roscoe pranced, his front feet in the bride’s red-bottomed, high-heeled, and very sparkly shoes. He caught sight of Dana, wagged his tail, and shuffled toward her.

  Dana audibly swallowed and looked over at the bride, who sat at the head table, her face red.

  “I just took them off for a second,” Sally said, glaring at Dana.

  Wolfe fought the urge to stand in front of Dana to shield her from the meanness.

  “Now, Sally,” Dana said, edging toward Roscoe. “He just wants to be a little taller and he looks so nice.”

  Sally stood about five-foot-five and had blond hair and blue eyes. Her dress was white and sparkly, and she smiled a lot but didn’t seem all that warm around Dana or her family. Wolfe hadn’t yet figured out why she’d put Dana and her sisters in the wedding. “This is your fault,” Sally spat.

  He almost agreed until he realized she was talking to Dana and not to him.

  “It’s my fault,” he corrected, edging to the left to grab the dog.

  Sally put her hands on her slim waist. “Dana, you brought this crazy dog on purpose. You’ve always been jealous of me, and here I am getting married.”

  Dana turned pink, but she didn’t argue.

  “Wait a minute.” Katie stepped up to her side, followed by the twins. “That’s not true.”

  Dana partially turned. “It’s her wedding. She needs her shoes.”

  Wolfe nabbed Roscoe by the scruff of his neck. “Drop the shoes and keep your mouth off them.”

  The dog snorted, growled, and then gingerly stepped out of first one and then the other shoe. Wolfe breathed out, his body calming. Roscoe then turned his head and ducked.

  “No.” Wolfe pushed the dog out of the way and snagged the shoes before he could get one in his teeth. He strode toward Sally. “I’m really sorry about this. Apparently, Roscoe was in a firefight with the FBI and somebody got blown up and he was injured and he had a problem with another dog being taller than him. Or something like that.” Wolfe had never really paid attention to the story.

  Sally took the shoes and gave him a brilliant smile. “Why, thank you.”

  The growl behind him was from Dana, not Roscoe.

  The music started up again, and Wolfe took a step away from the bride. He looked back momentarily, turning to meet Roscoe’s wide eyes. “Don’t,” Wolfe warned.

  “Yip.” The sound was pure joy as Roscoe bounded over the bar, snagging a bottle of Jack on the way and landing on the nearest table, sliding slightly on the soft linen. He sucked the whiskey down before Wolfe could get to him and then leaped from table to table, scattering glasses and purses.

  The bride yelled again.

  People scrambled out of the way. Roscoe landed on another table, set his mouth over a bottle of champagne, and tipped it back, gulping wildly.

  “Holy shit,” Mitch said, lunging off the dance floor.

  “Go left,” Wolfe ordered, heading to the right. They had to get the dog before he drank any more. Roscoe never knew when to stop.

  “That’s it,” the bride bellowed, gathering her dress and storming toward the dog.

  Wolfe held up a hand, trying to stop her. “Wait a sec—”

  The dog jumped toward another table, but the ticked-off bride blocked him, throwing her shoulder into Roscoe. He spun in the air, and then everything happened in slow motion.

  “No,” Dana yelled just as Roscoe fell on the cake table, scattering frosting, utensils, and plates.

  The music stopped. Everyone froze. Roscoe looked around at all the people, slid a little in the frosting, and then turned to view the remains of the cake. He struck fast, his entire face diving into the mound of frosting and cake, growling as he ate his way to the bottom. Then he lifted his head, licking his lips. White frosting and pink roses covered his nose and whiskers and most of his head.

  Wolfe couldn’t move. His entire body had been stunned into immobility.

  “My cake!” the bride screamed.

  Dana rushed for the dog. “It’s okay, Sally. You already cut the cake, fed it to each other, and we put the top layer in the freezer for you to keep for your first anniversary along with the topper. It’s all good.” She reached the dog and tried to grab him, her fingers sliding through the frosting covering his fur.

  Mit
ch snorted next to Wolfe, trying unsuccessfully to keep from laughing.

  Sally ran forward and shoved Dana. “You bitch. You jealous bitch.”

  Wolfe started to move, and Mitch grasped his arm. “Hold it.”

  Dana’s sisters came up on her side, and Lissa was having a difficult time trying to stop laughing. Dana held up a hand, keeping the other one on the happily panting dog. “Sally, this was an accident. Honest. We’re sorry. We’ll lock Roscoe up.”

  Sally moved toward Dana, and Wolfe tensed.

  “Wait a minute,” Charlotte said. “Everyone, relax and knock it off.”

  Sally swept her hand out. “Relax? Look at my cake.”

  Lissa laughed harder.

  Sally glared and took another menacing step toward Dana.

  “Shouldn’t we do something?” Wolfe asked.

  “No. Just hold on a sec. Don’t worry,” Mitch said, reaching for a beer on the table behind him.

  Evie and Roberta marched up and quickly took care of business, sending everyone off to dance or drink. The music started again, and Wolfe made his way to Dana as the caterers started to clean up the mess. “I’ve got him.”

  She looked up, frosting on her cheek. “You sure?”

  He gently reached out to wipe off the frosting. “Yeah. I’ll go drop him in the river and clean him off.” He whistled, and Roscoe jumped down to the ground, happily drunk and high on sugar.

  Wolfe sighed. He wasn’t sure whether he owed the dog gratitude or a dunking.

  * * *

  Wolfe twirled the whiskey in his glass, sitting bare-chested on the king-sized bed in his darkened hotel room, which was lit only by the moon’s rays sneaking through the tall window. Roscoe was sprawled across the sofa, sleeping off the booze. The day with Dana’s family had shown him a world he hadn’t realized existed. He didn’t belong in that world, but what a temptation it was. His mood remained unsettled at the thought.

  Light footsteps pattered in the hallway outside, and he finished his drink, standing and setting the glass on the counter as he moved toward the door.

  He opened it on the second knock to find Dana in another cute camisole and short set, her face scrubbed clean and her feet bare. She was sexy as hell and somehow adorable at the same time. The top barely covered her breasts, and her nipples were hard beneath the thin cotton.

  There was no way he was strong enough to be smart for the both of them. So he shifted his weight to the side without a word. Surprise danced across her face and she moved past him, turning around feet from the bed.

  He shut the door and locked it.

  Her eyes widened, and her chest moved as if her breathing had quickened. “You owe me a kiss,” she whispered, looking beautiful in the moonlight streaming through the window.

  His body tightened, need raging through him. “If you stay, it’s gonna be more than a kiss,” he said, his blood starting to hum.

  Her chin lifted. “Good.”

  “I can’t promise you more than this.” The vow he’d taken, bleeding and furious in the dust beside his slaughtered team, meant something. As did she, so he had to be honest. The pull she had on him was unreal, and his control was close to shredding. “I need you to understand that.”

  “I still understand that nothing has changed between us,” she said softly, “but I’m not giving up on your survival or on getting you to let me help.”

  There was no chance he’d let her get involved in the fight with Rock, but she could hope for his survival all she wanted. Couldn’t hurt. “I dream about you sometimes.”

  “Yeah?” Her smile held a feminine knowledge.

  “Yeah.” Oh, this was a mistake, but for the first time in his life, he didn’t care. He crossed the distance between them, getting closer to her sweet scent of orange blossoms. The bruises on her arms had faded, and he needed to be careful not to leave any more on her. The smooth skin on her face called for his touch, and he traced along her cheekbone and down her neck to her clavicle, his fingers light. “Are you sure?”

  Her dimples winked. “I’m here, barefoot, in the middle of the night, Wolfe.” She looked around. “No whipped cream to play with this time.”

  “I ain’t playin’ this time.” He pressed his thumb in that enticing dimple, the way he’d wanted to do for months. “I went gentle on you last time, and I also ain’t feeling gentle right now.”

  She stepped into him, her hands sliding up his bare chest, teasing him with a light touch. “I never asked for gentle.”

  His cock leaped to life, pressing against his zipper. He smoothed down her bare arms with both hands, encircling her wrists and pulling them up so he could kiss each knuckle, taking his time to give himself control. “I can’t get enough of you,” he rumbled, opening her hand and placing a kiss in the center of her palm.

  “Ditto.” She freed her wrists and cupped his jaw, rising up on her toes to kiss him.

  The feel of her soft lips against his sent a jolt of sparking electricity through him to land in his balls. He let her nibble for a couple of moments, enjoying the sensations, and then he took over. He cupped the back of her head, holding her still, and went as deep as he wanted.

  She moaned and moved closer to him, her fingers curling into his skin, biting.

  He kissed her harder, exploring her, running his free hand down her side to clasp her hip and pull her into his aching groin. The contact nearly undid him, and he groaned, tasting wine and frosting on her lips.

  She kissed him back, moving against him, her hands flattening against his bare chest. Even her hands were soft on him. So delicate.

  Never in his life had he wanted a woman so much. He released her mouth and leaned back to look his full. Her lips were rosy, her cheeks pink, and her eyes dark with need. With desire. For him. He’d done nothing in his life to deserve this, to deserve her, but he couldn’t turn away.

  Slowly, drawing out the anticipation, he hooked his thumb beneath a strap and gently drew it down her arm. Then the other one, and the cami fell to her waist.

  He breathed out. Her full breasts were tight, the nipples a light pink that were beyond temptation, even without the whipped cream. “So pretty,” he murmured, brushing his thumbs across both nipples.

  She shuddered, leaning into his touch.

  He yanked the top off her, tossing it over his head.

  She gasped and smiled, leaning in to free his shirt. He let her and then tangled his fingers through her hair, holding her still for a kiss. The AC kicked on, but he didn’t feel the chill. His heart started to thump with a hard-rock beat, and he went deeper, walking her back to the bed.

  He grasped her hips and lifted her, intending to set her down gently.

  She clamped her thighs onto his hips, clutched his neck, and kissed him ferociously. He tried to be gentle, tried to slow her down, tried to keep his mind in charge.

  His control uncoiled and then shredded with a physical jolt.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Finally.

  Dana felt the change in him the second it happened. He stopped pretending to let her direct the kiss and took over, as in really took over. Somehow, she ended up on her back on the bed, all of that muscle and strength and raw heat over her, his mouth working hers like he was starving.

  She was frantic, caressing his ripped arms, wanting to touch him everywhere.

  In a move of easy strength, he rolled them, landing on his back and planting her on his groin. She pressed down and arched her back, biting her lip against the exquisite agony. She dropped forward, her hands flattened on his hard chest, nowhere near to covering all the muscle.

  Finally.

  She traced cords and muscles, her fingers dipping into healed bullet holes, knife wounds, and burns on his side.

  He glanced down, his voice rough. “I’ve had a bit of damage.”

  “You’re perfect.” She meant it. Humming, rubbing against his erection, she leaned over and kissed his collarbone, nipping near his neck before sitting back up and gyrating aga
inst him.

  He palmed her breasts, rolling both nipples and shooting lust straight to her core. “Slow down,” he murmured.

  “Not a chance.” She scraped her nails down his abs, wanting to lick and count each ripple.

  “Dana.” He punctuated the word by tugging on her nipples with more than a hint of bite.

  She stilled, sparks uncoiling in her abdomen, her gaze slashing to his. Dark hunger made his eyes glow like those of a tiger out for the hunt, watching prey, ready to spring. His impossibly ripped body pulsed beneath her, his power barely banked.

  “We’ve gone slow enough,” she gasped. If she didn’t get him inside her now, she was going to lose her mind.

  The muscles in his corded neck swelled. His biceps bunched, providing warning as he lifted her easily and set her on her back. He hooked his thumbs in her waistband, pressed her knees up and together, and tugged the remaining clothing off, leaving her completely nude to his gaze. “Ah, baby.”

  In one smooth move, he rolled from the bed to his knees, jerked her ankles apart and pulled her toward him.

  Then his mouth found her.

  He sucked. Hard.

  She arched, crying out, clinging to the bedspread as Wolfe apparently decided to stop going slow. He went at her like a starving man, one hand palming both her buttocks and lifting her against his mouth, his tongue lashing her clit with unrelenting purpose.

  Waves of pleasure pummeled her, spiraling out from his talented mouth. He played her body like he’d created it.

  She frantically patted the bed, secured a pillow, and planted it over her face, biting the soft cotton. Her mind fuzzed, electricity zinging behind her eyes.

  The orgasm swelled and then detonated in a blaze of devastation, and she cried out, pressing the pillow to her mouth to try to diminish the sound. He pressed two fingers inside her, twisting them and prolonging the devastating ecstasy until her body went limp.

  She gasped, sucking in cotton, and then shoved the pillow to the side so she could breathe.

  Wolfe set her butt back down on the comforter and stood, his eyes glittering. The moonlight danced across the muscles in his chest, hinting at the power and strength she’d only just begun to tap. His hands went to his belt, and she shivered, her legs still trembling.