“For what?” I asked, refusing to let her off too easy.
She paused and sighed. “For all sorts of things. I’m not one to apologize so remember I did. I’m more concerned for Jacob than I am in protecting myself at the moment,” she confessed.
“Apology accepted.”
“Aren’t you going to apologize back?” she asked with a raised brow. “I mean isn’t that the way these things go?”
“If I had anything to apologize for I would, but I don’t,” I replied with an outward calm that was beginning to match my inner emotions.
“Touché. You’re tougher than you look.”
“No, I’m simply as tough as I have to be. Are we done?” I asked. I enjoyed that I was in control, but dealing with Junior’s mom was freakin’ exhausting.
“We are. Don’t tell him I told you about the challenge. Please,” she said, tacking the pleasantry to the end of her request with enormous effort.
“I won’t,” I promised and tried not to laugh. It was killing her to be nice. “And he’s not going to die.”
“What are you going to do?” Sadie inquired.
“That’s for me to know and you to find out.”
On that somewhat immature note, I turned my back on her and walked out. I didn’t know how to answer her question because I was still formulating my plan in my head.
Damn. I’d picked a hell of a day to grow up.
Chapter Seven
“What’s going on in the wildly intelligent and unfortunately irrational mind of yours?” Essie asked after we’d dropped both Dima and Granny off at their respective houses.
I shrugged and let my head fall back on the soft leather of the car seat and noted that Dwayne was not much better at driving than Granny. Essie would not like my plan therefore I wasn’t going to share it with her. Far too much needed to get done this evening to start it off having an argument with my BFF.
Time for a diversion tactic…
“I’m not extremely, umm…sexually experienced,” I said, wincing at voicing the truth aloud. “I’m a little worried about being exciting enough for Junior.”
“You’re a virgin?” Essie asked, surprised.
“No, I’m not a virgin! Its just sex hasn’t been all that awesome in the past.”
“Snookiebottoms, you were doing it with the wrong person. You want blow job tips?” Dwayne asked in all seriousness.
“I don’t know. Do I?” I asked, cringing at the thought of a play by play from a five hundred year old, gay, dead guy.
“No! You don’t,” Essie burst out. “You really, really don’t want sex advice from Dwayne. No offense.”
“None taken, Doll,” Dwayne said. “Now if Sandy was going to get it on with a Viking or a voodoo witch doctor with unmentionable body piercings, I’d be a virtual encyclopedia of knowledge. I’ve never actually blown a Shifter—not that I wouldn’t. The occasion hasn’t arisen yet—pun intended.”
“Not touching that one,” Essie said with a groan. “Look Sandy, sex with your true mate is amazing. Mating sex is almost indescribable. Just go with your instincts”
“What if my instincts are broken?”
“You’re a wolf. Trust me. You have instincts and they’re not broken,” she promised as we pulled up in my driveway.
It was seven. I had one hour before I had to be at Junior’s and I needed to make the most of it.
“Play his ball sac like a tiny drum set when you blow him,” Dwayne suggested.
“Oh my hell on fire,” Essie choked out. “Do not slap his balls around. You can cup them and squeeze lightly, but be careful. They’re sensitive.”
“Vikings love to have their balls slapped,” Dwayne argued.
I began to ease my way out of the Hummer—pun intended. While the conversation was grossly amusing, I had stuff to do.
“Sandy’s not going to do the horizontal mambo with a Viking.”
“I know,” Dwayne rationalized. “But Junior is as big and burly as those randy sea pirates. I’m just trying to help.”
“Don’t help,” Essie advised as she smacked the back of Dwayne’s bald head. “It never works out well.”
“Says the Werewolf who almost screwed me into wearing Satan’s wedding gown,” he huffed.
“As far as I know Satan’s a man,” Essie corrected him with a giggle. “Not sure he’d take too kindly to you spreading cross-dressing rumors.”
“Guys, it’s been real,” I said over my shoulder as I escaped the bizarre banter.
“I expect deets tomorrow,” Essie yelled from the passenger window as Dwayne almost took out my mailbox. “And don’t do anything stupid.”
“Like using Junior’s nuts like a snare drum?” I called out as I waved at my insane friends.
“No, I mean like rushing anything. Anything,” she said giving me a meaningful glance. “And for the love of Jesus Hesus Christ, do not ball slap.”
“Got it,” I said with a grin and a thumbs up.
Then I walked into my house for the last time as an unmated woman.
If Junior had a mate, she would be the one to fight Gina Giles. Junior would only have to fight Giles Giles.
Having no clue if I could actually take Gina out, I was going a hundred percent forward with my plan. Normally, I’d do a spreadsheet with pros and cons, but I was under a time crunch. Winging it would have to do today.
I’d already made both Junior’s and my life hell for too many years. I was now going to take my rightful place and take care of my man.
God help us all.
“Holy shee-ot,” Junior bellowed as he took in my attire.
Standing in the entryway of his rustically beautiful log cabin, I felt the heat rise from my neck to my cheeks. I’d dressed like the big busted lip gloss gals from the Piggly Wiggly with great attention to detail. I felt slightly ridiculous, but had gotten the reaction I was aiming for.
The boob tube was a little skimpier than I’d originally thought. The mini skirt was on the edge of obscene. The shoes I’d borrowed from Dwayne made me well over six feet tall, but overall I was looking pretty damn good.
And if Junior’s knee-buckling was anything to go by, he thought so too.
“Get in here,” he said, grabbing my hand and yanking me into the house. “Did anyone see you in this get up?”
“Umm, no,” I said, my embarrassment starting to mount. Maybe he thought I looked cheap and sleazy. Wait. I did look cheap and sleazy.
Shitballs. This outfit was a mistake.
“That’s outstanding. I’d have to kill anyone who saw this much skin and that would be downright inappropriate as I’m the Sheriff in town.”
“Junior, don’t be an asshat. Our entire pack has seen me naked when we shift. We’re Werewolves.”
“That’s. Not. Sexual,” he insisted again. “Right now you look like a freakin’ goddess and that’s for my eyes only.”
“So you like the look?” I asked, feeling shy.
“Sandy, I love it. My pecker is standing at complete attention—which is painful due to the fact that he’s trapped in my jeans. But darlin’, you could wear a dang sack and my Johnson would still be vertical.”
“Umm…”
“Whoa, whoa whoa. Goddangit, that was bad. Soooo sorry. We’re gonna need to give my Johnson a code name that you’re good with. It’s just too darn confusing to keep using different wank terms. You like Fred?”
“Actually, no.”
“Charles?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Duke?”
“Nope.”
“Guido?”
“Try again,” I told him with an eye roll.
Junior paced the room in deep thought and then froze in his tracks. I held my breath waiting for something more hideous than Guido.
“How about Archimedes of Syracuse,” he suggested with a wide grin.
“Are you sweet talking me?” I asked with a laugh.
My sexy man was every kind of nerd to name his private part after th
e mathematician who was largely considered to be the first to calculate an accurate estimation of Pi.
“We could call him 3.14 for short,” he went on, now on a roll because of my giggling.
“Umm…bad idea,” I said, choking back hysterics. “That is unless 3.14 is an accurate measurement.”
“Hell to the no,” he said, mortally insulted and then went for his zipper. “My Archimedes is way the heck bigger than 3.14.”
“Keep it in your pants, Big Boy,” I said, secretly wishing he wouldn’t listen…but we’d get to that part soon enough. “I thought we were going to dismantle a PC.”
“We are,” he said as he pulled me to the kitchen and presented me with a wrapped gift—a horribly wrapped gift. It was taped together with duct tape and sported Sponge Bob Christmas paper.
It was all kinds of perfect.
“What is it?” I asked spotting the PC, the tower and a pile of what looked like expansion cards on the huge oak kitchen table. With as many as he had there, the possibilities of upgrading were endless.
“Just a few things a gal might need to properly dig into an old PC with a mother board in need of some serious upgrading,” he replied slyly.
“Oh my God,” I squealed as I tore into the package. I was shaking I was so excited. “You got me a PC tool kit.”
“Customized,” he pointed out with a proud grin. “Everything is in your favorite color. Green.”
My tears appeared so suddenly, I didn’t realize I was crying. No one in my life had ever given me such a flawless present—wrenches in every size, too many screwdriver heads to count, pliers, adorable batteries and so much more.
“Oh my God, Sandy,” Junior shouted and tried to grab the box of tools from my hands. “I swear to Jesus in a jock strap that I thought this would make you happy. Is it the color? I can get you another color.”
I shook my head and tried to stop crying as Junior dropped to a chair, looking defeated.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “I thought you’d like it.”
“I love it,” I said, wiping my tears and clutching my toolbox to my chest. “It’s the best gift I’ve ever received in my entire life. How did you know green was my favorite color?”
“Wait.” Junior pressed his temples and squinted. “Is this how you react when you’re happy?”
“Umm…sometimes,” I said.
“How do you react when you’re sad?” he questioned pulling out his phone and typing my answers into his notes.
“Same I guess,” I replied, watching with amusement as he tried to catalogue my responses.
“Okay, so crying means happy and sad,” he muttered, typing furiously on his phone. “And laughing means?”
“Depends on the situation,” I told him as I removed his phone from his hands and settled myself on his lap.
Junior broke out in a sweat and gripped the arms of the chair like he would blast into space if he let go.
“How’d you know my favorite color was green?” I asked, enjoying the fact that he was wildly unsure what was going on.
“Umm…can you repeat the question? I’m pretty dang sure all the blood in my body is now residing in my Archimedes. Not too much left in my brain,” he explained, white knuckling the chair.
“You knew my favorite color was green. What else do you know about me?” I asked leaning closer so my cleavage was even with his chin.
“36 C,” he said with a wince and a groan. “I went through your gym bag and stole your bra. I don’t wear it or anything like that…I just, umm…sleep with it.”
“Oookay, weird but kind of flattering in a stalkerish way,” I said. “Which bra?”
“Lacey blue one with little pink dots,” he admitted sheepishly. “It was about three months ago. You were out to lunch and I…”
“Stole my bra,” I finished his sentence and tried to bite back my smile. If anyone else in the world admitted they’d pilfered my undergarments I’d deck them—but not Junior. If that wasn’t love, I didn’t know what was…
“Yep. Stole it.”
“I wondered what happened to that bra,” I said trying to remember if I was missing any other under things. And then I froze. “Holy hell, did you confess that to my dad?”
Junior closed his eyes and made a face. “Would that be a bad thing or a good thing if I did?”
“It would be a totally not good in any way thing,” I said and moved to get up from his lap.
“Don’t,” he begged. “My Archimedes is dying here, but it feels so good to have you on my lap, Sandy. I could die a happy man right now.”
“Junior, we need to talk,” I said.
“Can I go first?” he asked, holding me firm.
“Sure, but…”
“Nope,” he said putting his finger gently over my lips. “I have a lot to say and I should have said it a long time ago.”
I nodded and felt happy tingles shoot though my body. Being this close to Junior felt like home.
“I’ve had it bad for you since high school—you can ask my Archimedes about that. He’ll back me up—pun painfully intended. And I know your favorite color is green because of the backpack you used to carry in high school filled with more big books than I had ever seen a person lug around. That was an incredible turn on itself, but your ass. Ohmygod, your ass.”
My surprised laugh stopped him for a brief second, but he was on a mission.
“You never noticed me. I always thought mates knew each other, but every time I mustered up the courage to talk to you, you ran.”
“I did?” I asked, shocked. “I don’t remember you talking to me.”
“Well, okay. Maybe no actual words came out, but I meant to,” he explained.
“I was kind of shy…and umm, bigger,” I said as I stared at the floor.
“You were freakin’ hot,” Junior corrected me. “You were so dang smart that I was maybe—possibly—a little intimidated. I was just too dumb not to grow some balls and man up. And your ass. I’ve written poems about your ass.”
“Seriously?”
“Totally.”
“Wait. I call bullshit. You were intimidated by me?” I smacked his massive arm and narrowed my eyes.
He had to be pulling my leg. I was a nobody in high school—the fat girl who couldn’t shift. He was Jacob “Junior” Wilson—the hottest thing since hell was invented.
“No bullshit, baby. It’s always been you, but when you left I thought I must have been wrong…and then I barked up a few of the wrong trees,” he said with an apologetic wince-grin. “Not proud of it, but it’s over. I swear on Dolly Parton’s bosom that my Archimedes is yours till the day I die. I’m so dang in love with you, I can’t see straight. I love the way you wrinkle your nose when you think. I love the way you bite your lip when something isn’t working right. Even the way you snore makes my dick hard.”
“I don’t snore,” I snapped.
He was doing so well…
“I’d beg to differ.”
“And when would you have heard me snore?” I demanded, wondering if I did indeed snore.
“Umm…it might have been when I had surveillance cameras up inside your house for your protection,” he reminded me and put his hands over his head for safety on the very likely chance I was going to smack him.
Smart man.
“Do I snore loud?” I inquired, still considering whopping him.
“No, baby. It’s soft and sweet. You sigh a lot too.”
Slowly, I laid my head on his broad chest. His heart was beating loudly and his body finally relaxed as I molded myself to him. His scent made my head spin and his hard body against my soft one was heavenly.
“I love you too, Junior,” I whispered.
“Again.”
“What?” I asked, confused.
“Say that again.”
“I love you.”
“One more time,” he prompted with a huge grin.
“I. Love. You. Junior. Wilson. I always have and I always will. If you ever
stray, I’ll cut your Archimedes down to 3.14 inches and then I’ll remove your nuts with a dull butter knife. We clear?”
“Goddamn, that’s hot. I plan to kill any man who looks at you,” he added not to be left out of the violent tendencies of our kind.
“Umm…probably not your best idea,” I said. “If I were to eliminate every woman who looked at you, we’d lose most of the female population in the south.”
“I see where you’re going with this,” he agreed. “We might wipe out all the men the entire state of Georgia if we go with my method. Fine, I’ll just kick some ass,” he amended with a lopsided grin. “Seriously though, I know you want to wait. I don’t, but I’m good with whatever you want.”
“Actually,” I tried to cut him off.
“Not done here yet,” he said as he pressed a sweet kiss to my lips. “I want you to trust me. I need you to trust me and I’ll earn it. Some—not all—of my reputation is fiction. I wasn’t a saint by any stretch of the imagination, but I also wasn’t as manwhore-ish as the stories go. I promise I’ll be patient as long as you need, but you’re mine. Make no mistake about that.”
“Earned or unearned—it doesn’t matter. We weren’t together and you weren’t cheating on me. I haven’t been a saint either.”
“Wait. What?” he asked as his fangs dropped.
“Junior,” I said with raised brows and the sternest look I could muster up since what I really wanted to do was giggle or jump him. “Get naked.”
“I’m sorry. What?” he asked.
Junior was probably correct about waiting. However, I did trust him and I loved him. What did a few weeks matter?
He was going to be pissed when he realized I knew about the challenge. He was going to be more upset about what I had planned, but we’d cross that bridge after I’d had at least twenty orgasms. He was mine as much as I was his and I was going to protect him the same way he’d been protecting me. Period.
“I said, get your clothes off. You’re gettin’ lucky tonight.”
“You sure?” he choked out as he broke the arm of the chair he was gripping like his life depended on it. “Not sure I can do this and not make you mine forever.”
Were Me Out Page 5
