Wild Card

by Rachel Vincent

  “I’ve never seen you naked in the tub.” He kissed his way up my neck, and my pulse raced. “Dripping wet.”

  I trailed my hands slowly over his back. “So, should I get back in the shower?”

  “Yes,” he said, and I pushed him off, laughing as I sat up on the bed. But he tugged me back down. “Later. First I want to see you naked here.”

  “Just like that?” I said, as he slid one hand beneath my shirt, his fingers skimming my stomach. Every nerve ending in my body felt like a live wire. I’d been touched before, but it had never felt like this. “Just ‘take it all off, Kaci’?”

  “Oh, you want more romance?” he whispered into my ear. Then he bit my earlobe, just a tiny nibble of pressure.

  “Hell yes,” I practically purred as his tongue trailed down my neck. “I want all the romance. I think I deserve it, considering that I can’t remember our wedding night.”

  He sat up, abandoning my neck, and I groaned over the loss. “I’m never going to live that down, am I?”

  “Never,” I teased. “But maybe you can make up for it with the best night of my life.”

  “Wow. You really know how to turn on the pressure.”

  “Again, I have nothing to compare it to. The bar’s pretty low.”

  “I still haven’t figured that out. How does someone as smart, and funny, and hot as you are make it out of high school without…?”

  I shrugged, and the comforter bunched beneath my shoulder. “No one was special enough. Until now.”

  Justus went absolutely still, like only a shifter can. He didn’t even seem to be breathing. Yet his gaze held mine, and suddenly all the humor was gone. There was nothing left in his eyes but a deep, aching hunger, and some sense of…possession I could suddenly scent on his skin. In his pheromones.

  And it was delicious.

  Did I smell that good to him?

  “I want to give you all of that,” he whispered, still staring straight into my eyes. “All the romance. But I’m suddenly very aware that we’re in an eighty-nine-dollar-a-night-motel room, and I’ve just fed you microwave lasagna from the freezer section of the pharmacy. I can’t even identify the material this comforter is made out of. But it doesn’t smell especially…new.”

  “I don’t care.” I tugged him down for a kiss, and when I opened my mouth for him, he groaned. Then he pulled away again.

  “I care. We just got married. We should be sipping champagne on a beach in some country where you’re old enough to drink. There should be fresh flowers in the room—with a bloom behind your ear—and…”

  I propped myself up on my elbows and kissed him again. “I don’t need any of that.” Another kiss, and I slid my hand into the hair at the back of his skull to hold him close as I whispered into his ear. “Please don’t make me ask you again to touch me.”

  He groaned. “I don’t think you’ve actually asked me to yet.”

  I lay down again and gave him the sexiest smile I could muster. “Touch me, Justus. Please. But first…take your shirt off.”

  He laughed as he pulled his tee over his head, then tossed it onto the floor. I ran one hand over his chest, marveling at the flat planes and hard ridges. “Human guys don’t look like this. They don’t feel like this either. Not normal guys, anyway.”

  “It’s the shifter metabolism, and all the hunting. Lots of exercise and large amounts of protein make for a very low BMI.”

  “BMI?”

  “Body mass—” He shook his head. “Never mind. That’s not romantic. What I’m saying is that shifter metabolism looks good on everyone. But especially on you.” He leaned down to kiss me, and his hand slid beneath my shirt again.

  I sucked in a breath, startled not by his touch, but by how badly I wanted it.

  “Are you sure?” Justus propped himself up and looked down at me, frowning. “We don’t have to do this just because we’re married. That really just means we have the rest of our lives.”

  “I’m sure.” I pulled him down for another kiss. “Show me what I’ve been missing, Justus.” In case we never get another chance…

  “Yeah. Okay. Come here.” He stood and helped me off the bed with one hand, then held my gaze while his hands skimmed slowly up my sides beneath my shirt, dragging it up as he went. And as good as that felt, the sexiest part—the part that made me forget to breathe, was the eye contact. The way he watched me while he touched me, holding me there in that moment with him, creating an indelible connection between the delicious sensation and the man behind it.

  When he got up to my bra strap, I lifted my arms, and he slowly pulled my shirt off, careful not to snag the bandage on my left arm. My shirt hit the floor and he stepped back to look at me. His nostrils flared and his pupils dilated. His pulse began to race.

  Heart pounding in sync with his, I reached back to unsnap my bra, but he stepped closer, his chest brushing my breasts through the material, and stilled my hands. “Let me. That’s part of it.”

  I nearly melted into a puddle on the carpet.

  He gently tilted my head and nibbled his way down my neck to my collarbone, then over my shoulder, dragging my bra strap out of the way, and each new touch—each new place his mouth found to explore—set off a fresh wave of sensations inside me. I wanted to tell him to hurry up.

  Yet I never wanted it to be over.

  His fingers trailed around my back, and my bra got tighter for a second, then gaped loose. Justus slid my bra down my arms and let it fall. “You are so beautiful.”

  “Thanks, but…you say that as if you’ve never seen me naked before.”

  “I haven’t. Not like this. This is different. This is real,” he said, and somehow, I knew exactly what he meant. He stepped forward until his body was pressed the length of mine, and this time when he kissed me, my nipples got suddenly, embarrassingly hard. He groaned into my mouth, his chest pressed against mine, and my breasts felt both heavy and... achy. As if they needed—

  Justus ran his left hand up my side, then stopped. His thumb brushed the lower curve of my right breast, but went no further.

  “Please,” I gasped against his mouth. “Touch me.”

  He moaned, then lifted my breast, and it was the simplest, yet most erotic sensation I’d ever felt. That same hand had touched my arm a thousand times in the past two days, and it was nice, but it hadn’t changed my life.

  That hand had touched my face, and my lips, and my waist, and I’d wanted more, but not enough to beg for it.

  But this—

  He bent and licked a line from my collarbone straight down my breast, so slowly that by the time he got to my nipple, I’d nearly lost my mind with impatience. With anticipation. His tongue circled the tip of my breast, drawing my nipple into a harder point than I’d thought possible. I groaned and pressed myself into him. Aching for his mouth.

  Then his lips closed over my nipple, a warm, wet pressure.

  “Oh,” I breathed, as his tongue flicked over me. He sucked lightly, and I arched toward him with no conscious thought, my body demanding more all on its own.

  Justus squeezed my breast as he sucked and licked, and I buried my hands in his hair, holding him in place while I rode a wave of sensations unlike anything I’d ever felt.

  I ran my hands over his chest as he came back up for a kiss. “How’s it going so far?” he whispered, the stubble on his chin scratching my cheek as he kneaded my breast gently.

  “What, you want a score card?”

  He chuckled, and his whole body rubbed against mine. “Maybe just a ranking, on a scale of one to ten.”

  “Eleven. Please don’t stop.”

  Justus groaned, then lifted me by my hips and laid me on the bed, with my legs hanging over. He lay next to me on his side and licked my other, neglected nipple while he skimmed one hand slowly down my stomach.

  My breaths came in soft, fast pants.

  “You can say stop whenever you want,” he whispered into my ear.

  “Keep going. Don’t stop. Green
light,” I moaned, and he laughed. Then his fingers slid beneath my waistband and I sucked in a breath. My hips arched toward him, of their own accord, and I might have died of embarrassment if I weren’t actually desperate for his hand to go just a little…bit…lower.

  Instead, it moved back up, his fingers lightly skimming my skin—then he unbuttoned my jeans, one handed.

  “That was impressive,” I whispered.

  “Just wait…” His mouth closed over my nipple, and I groaned again.

  “Feeling more confident about this high-pressure situation?” I asked.

  He laughed. “You’re giving great feedback.”

  “You’re giving great…everything.”

  Justus crawled off the bed, and I groaned, aching with the loss of him. Until I felt his hands at my waist. He tugged my jeans over my hips, dragging my panties with them, and my heart thumped so hard I was afraid for a moment that I might actually be having a heart attack.

  Wouldn’t that figure? VIRGIN DIES DURING FOREPLAY. They’d probably carve that on my tombstone.

  But then my jeans hit the floor, and his hands glided up my legs, pushing them slowly apart. He dropped a kiss on my left thigh, beginning a trail of warm nibbles leading all the way up—

  Someone knocked on the door.

  “Justus? Kaci?” Vic called out.

  “Oh my God go away!” I shouted. Then I slapped both hands over my mouth, equal parts humiliated and really fucking pissed off.

  Justus’s growl told me he was just as frustrated. Reluctantly, he stood. “You’re going to have to let them in.” He grabbed my shirt from the floor and handed it to me.

  “They can wait.” I reached for him, and he took one more indulgent look down the length of my body. Then he pulled me up by one hand.

  “They won’t wait. And you’re going to have to be the one to let them in.” He slid my hand over the firm, warm lump in his pants. “I need a minute.”

  “Oh shit.” I smiled as I reached for my underwear. “How long will that take?”

  He headed for the bathroom. “It’ll be gone the minute Vic steps through the door.”

  Sixteen

  Justus

  I flushed the toilet before I came out of the bathroom, but Vic did not look fooled. Based on the determination in his jaw line, I gathered that Marc had told him to stay between me and Kaci. Physically, if necessary. Marc might have no plans to separate us, but he wasn’t—evidently—going to let us eliminate the legal possibility of an annulment by consummating the marriage.

  But Vic was too much of a gentleman to ask what we’d been up to. Not that he’d need to, after Kaci cursed him through the door.

  I nodded at the cast encasing his left arm and hand, except for his fingers and thumb. “Sorry about that. I assume you didn’t go to the ER for the cast?”

  “Of course not. One of Blackwell’s grandsons is a medical intern. He took care of it.”

  “Can you shift like that?” I’d never really thought about what happened to a shifter with a broken bone. And suddenly I felt even guiltier.

  “Not for a month or so.” He turned to Kaci, effectively dismissing the entire subject. “Okay, let’s take a look at you.” With his good hand, he tilted Kaci’s chin up and carefully pushed hair back from her forehead to examine the wound on her temple. A growl of warning built in my throat the moment he touched her, but I swallowed it and settled for clenching my fists instead.

  Marc wasn’t kidding. Something had changed.

  Kaci was mine. Not to own, but to…love. To protect. I knew damn well that Vic meant her no harm, but deep down, some part of me no longer trusted him, despite the fact that he was bigger and stronger than I was and had far more experience.

  Deep down, I knew that no one else in the world could give Kaci what she needed better than I could, be that physical protection or…pleasure. And I didn’t want anyone else to try.

  I didn’t even want anyone else near her.

  But before that thought had even fully played out in my head, I recognized the danger inherent in it.

  While Vic assessed Kaci’s injuries and I stood stiffly to the side, Chris started the coffee pot set up next to the second sink, just outside of the bathroom.

  Because motels suck.

  “This one’s scabbed over nicely, and you look pretty alert.” Vic let Kaci’s hair go, and it tumbled over her forehead.

  “I’m fine,” she snapped. “Seriously, did you guys check in yet? Because there are plenty of rooms available. You can totally go get your own. Like, now.”

  Vic snorted with a glance at me. “We’re not staying.”

  I tried not to sound gleeful. “That’s too bad. Do you want something to eat before you go? We could order a pizza…”

  Another snort, this one from Chris, as he clicked the coffee carafe into place beneath the drip. “None of us are staying. We’re hitting the road as soon as Kaci’s taken care of. Thus, the coffee. If this even qualifies,” he added with a skeptical glance at the packet the grounds had come from.

  “Okay. Well, I’m hungry, so why don’t you guys go get some food and give us, like, half an hour?” Kaci glanced at me with raised brows, and I couldn’t resist a grin. “Or forty-five minutes? To finish getting ready to go. We’ll meet you in the parking lot in, like, an hour. Tops.”

  “Sit.” Vic looked almost amused as he pulled out a chair at the table for her, evidently well aware that he’d interrupted us just in time. “Let’s look at your arm.”

  “I already cleaned it,” I said as I started gathering up our things from around the room.

  Kaci sank into the chair, her jaw clenched. “I’m fine,” she said again.

  I stuffed her dirty clothes into one of the empty plastic bags from the pharmacy, then squatted next to her chair, one hand on her knee. “Please let him look. And try to relax.” I stood, then leaned in to kiss her cheek and whispered into her ear. “We were stalled, not stopped. It will happen. Some place much nicer than this. When we have plenty of time to get it right.”

  She looked doubtful. But she laid her arm on the table in front of Vic.

  He gave me an almost respectful nod, then carefully unwound her bandage using only his good hand. “Yup, that’s a bad one.” He aimed the light from his phone at it. “The muscle looks like it’s already starting to heal, though.”

  “You can see that?” I leaned in for a closer look, and Kaci rolled her eyes at us both.

  “If you know what you’re looking for. Have you shifted since this happened?” he asked her.

  “Twice.”

  “That was wise.”

  “Yeah, and she’d probably be much better off now if she hadn’t climbed a tree right after one of those shifts and ripped it open again.”

  Kaci kicked me under the table. “Tattletale.”

  “Okay, well, it needs stitches on the surface,” Vic said.

  I nodded. “That’s one of the reasons we’re going back to the ranch.”

  “No need to wait.” Chris set a green canvas zip-up pouch on the table, then he started removing cellophane from four disposable coffee cups.

  “What’s that?” I asked as Vic opened the pouch and began pulling out sealed packets of sterile wipes, gloves, and a couple of instruments that looked like scissors without blades.

  “It’s a field medicine suture kit.”

  “You’re going to stitch her up now?” I demanded. “Are you qualified?”

  “He is,” Kaci said. Though she didn’t look pleased.

  “Qualified, yes. Able?” Vic stood and held his broken arm up for emphasis. “Not at the moment. Chris?”

  Chris took the chair next to Kaci’s and sterilized his hands with one of the alcohol wipes. Then he pulled on a pair of sterile gloves that were latex-free, according to the package.

  I scowled as he opened a packet containing a thin, curved piece of metal that seemed designed to cause pain.

  “It’s a suture needle,” Kaci explained, and I made a menta
l note never to cut myself around these guys.

  “Unfortunately, I don’t have anything for the pain. I probably shouldn’t do this, but…” Chris glanced up at Vic, who nodded and set an unopened fifth of whiskey on the table in front of Kaci. “If it was good enough for civil war soldiers…”

  “Amputation and gangrene were good enough for civil war soldiers!” I snapped. “She needs a local. An injection.”

  Vic exhaled slowly. “This is more like a field medic’s tent than a doctor’s office, Justus. If you’d kept a better watch on her—”

  “This isn’t his fault,” Kaci insisted. “It’s mine.”

  “No, he’s right.” I peeled plastic from the cap of the whiskey bottle. “I shouldn’t have let you go out there alone.”

  “Fuck you both!” Kaci snapped. “I got taken because I wasn’t paying attention. That could have happened to either one of you. And I got myself out of it, thank you very much.”

  “And right into this.” Vic lifted her arm into her own line of sight. “But that’s nothing that hasn’t happened to all of us.” He pushed up his short sleeve to show off a jagged scar winding around his left bicep.

  Chris lifted his shirt to reveal a thin white line zagging across a stomach that gave me an inferiority complex about abs I’d been pretty proud of half an hour ago.

  I unscrewed the lid of the bottle and pushed it toward Kaci.

  She shook her head. “No way.”

  Chris shrugged. “That’s your call. But don’t say we didn’t offer.” He laid her arm across the rag I’d used earlier, then began to dribble alcohol over the wound.

  The alcohol bubbled and Kaci hissed. “Why does that hurt worse now than it did before?”

  “Because now you’re focused on the pain. Before, you were busy being pissed at me.”

  Vic snorted. “Why don’t you piss her off again?”

  “While that does seem inevitable,” Kaci snapped. “I’d love for this to be a little less entertaining for the three of you.” She grabbed the whiskey bottle with her free hand and scowled at it while Chris threaded his sterile needle. “This is what you and the guys do?”