Need Me

by Shelli Stevens

  Checking out women was hardly anything new for him. He loved women and everything about them. Their softness, the sway of hips in their walk, the smell of them, the enticing sounds they made when he found just the right spot to—

  “Do you want some water?”

  He blinked and thrust a hand into his hair. “Yeah. Thanks, Gab.”

  If he hadn’t been staring at her back, he might have missed the tensing in her shoulder. She sounded normal, uttering a breezy, “No problem.”

  His brows drew together and he bit back a sigh. She obviously felt uncomfortable around him. Damn it. Why?

  She turned from the sink and left the small kitchen, the glass of water outstretched in her hand. “So, what have you been up to?” she asked, her gaze avoiding his.

  The moment he took the glass from her, she moved past him into the living room a few feet away.

  “Working.” He followed her to the love seat and sat down. “The normal stuff.”

  Partying. Dating entirely too many women, yet spending too many nights alone and missing something. Missing Gabby. She made a barely audible harrumph, but when he glanced up, her expression was carefully blank.

  That was odd, she never hid her emotions from him. And yet, from the moment he’d run into her in the store this morning, she’d had one big wall up.

  He took a long drink of water and then set the half-empty glass on her coffee table. He stared straight ahead for a moment, debating what to say. He was here in her apartment. Damn it, he needed to say something.

  “So, why’d you move out the way you did?”

  Gabby spit her water back into her glass and coughed. “Excuse me?”

  “You’re stalling. Why can’t you just answer the question?”

  “Justin…” She set her glass down on the table next to his and offered an abrupt shrug. “We’d discussed the possibility I’d be moving out—”

  “Someday in the nowhere-near future,” he said tersely. “The deal was we’d shake up the living arrangement when one of us got serious with someone we were seeing.”

  She gave a soft laugh, but it didn’t hold humor. “Right. And we both know you’re not the type to get serious.”

  Tension rolled through his muscles and his jaw flexed. He turned in the seat to look at her. “What does that mean?”

  Pink filled her cheeks and she swallowed hard. “Nothing, Justin. I wasn’t being serious.”

  “You wouldn’t have said it if you didn’t mean it.”

  “Look, please forget I said it. I was just kidding.”

  But she hadn’t been. At least not entirely. He drew in an unsteady breath, his head swirling with the memories of all the time they’d spent together.

  Both of them had dated a lot, had rarely held a relationship that lasted longer than a couple of months.

  They’d discussed their dating habits many times. Had laughed about it. And yet, this time she’d flung the words at him as an accusation—there’d been no teasing. His gaze dropped to where her hands were fisted on her lap. Impulsively, he reached out and caught her wrist, sliding his fingers downward to force her hand open again and then holding it. It was a gesture that wasn’t uncommon for them, and yet she attempted to pull her hand free.

  “Look at me, Gab.”

  Her shoulders rose with the deep breath she dragged in, and then she tilted her head to give him a sideways glance. Her eyes were carefully schooled. He knew that look. She’d come to poker night too many times with the guys for him to not recognize that you won’t get shit out of me look.

  “I want you to be completely honest with me,” he said quietly and tightened his grip on her hand—her dainty, soft hand. His brows drew together. Had her hands always been this feminine?

  “Okay.” She arched an eyebrow. “Are you going to ask it?”

  He shook his head, wondering how the hell she was managing to get him so damn flustered.

  “Yeah. I’m gonna ask it,” he said gruffly and then focused his attention on her face again. “Did you move out because of that night?”

  The only sign that he’d shocked her was the slight widening of her eyes. But then she narrowed them just as quickly and a sardonic grin slipped across her mouth.

  “That night? Ah, Justin, you’re going to have to be a lot more specific than that. We lived together for a couple of years.”

  “Damn it, Gab. Don’t pull that crap on me. Anyone else might buy it, but I don’t.” He scowled. “You know exactly which night I’m talking about.”

  Her fingers arched against his hand, but he didn’t loosen his grip. The slight smell of sweat from their run lingered in the room, with the overlying scent of her lotion. Some melon thing she’d worn the entire time he’d known her. It had never seemed seductive before, but now…

  She lowered her gaze from his and her tongue swept across her bottom lip before retreating safely back into her mouth.

  Desire stirred low in his groin and his next breath in wasn’t quite as steady. Jesus. He still wanted her. The idea rocked him to his core.

  Bad idea, Justin.

  “Are you telling me—” He leaned forward and caught her chin, his face just inches from hers. Very bad idea, Justin. “—that you don’t remember this?”

  The need to remind her of that night consumed him. Her eyes widened in trepidation, just before he lowered his mouth down onto hers.

  So soft. So sweet.

  When she would have pushed him away, he moved his palm to her back and held her still, moving his mouth against hers.

  Half a year. How had he gone a half a year without her? And why had it taken two years for them to reach this level of intimacy?

  His tongue teased the crease of her mouth open, and then slid inside to taste her.

  The angry sound she made morphed into a frustrated moan and finally one of surrender. Her tongue moved out to meet his—almost angry in the bold strokes she made to tease him.

  Justin’s blood pounded through his veins. His entire being focused on the smell of her, the press of her breasts against his chest, and the soft sounds she made as she kissed him back. Sounds that alternated between pleasure and frustration.

  Her hands slid up to his shoulders to wrap around his neck, pressing her body snugger against his. The scrape of her hardened nipples against his chest sent another rush of blood to his cock, bringing it fully erect. He groaned, grateful for his loose running pants.

  He explored her mouth thoroughly, teasing the hidden spots before returning to spar with her tongue. His hands, which had been resting on her waist, slid up her ribcage to just under her breasts.

  He barely hesitated before sweeping his thumbs up to stroke over the tight peaks of her breasts. He lifted his lips from hers just a fraction to allow her strangled gasp, before he captured her mouth again.

  All rational thoughts on why he’d come here tonight—because it couldn’t have been for this, could it?—abandoned his mind. The need to touch her naked skin, to taste the salty sweet softness of her flesh, swept through him.

  He deepened the kiss, caught her nipple between two fingers and pinched, all while easing her onto her back on the couch. It was a move he’d mastered in years of seducing women.

  Tonight it failed. Gabby wrenched her mouth from his, shoving him so hard he fell off her and onto the floor. “Stop.”

  She scurried off the couch and across the room from him. “What was that, Justin? What the hell was that?”

  He winced, picking himself up from the floor. His balls ached and his dick still throbbed with the need to be buried inside her.

  Inside…Gabby. Shit. His stomach clenched and he thrust a hand through his hair. Her question was a good one. What the hell had he been doing? Seeking out a repeat performance for the night that had likely killed their friendship?

  Feeling like the biggest ass on the planet, he lifted his gaze to look at her. Her nipples were outlined against her tight shirt, her lips swollen, and her eyes held a mix of anger, desire and…fear.


  “Gabby—”

  “If you set out to prove that I want to screw you silly, then congratulations, Justin.” Her laughter sounded a bit unsteady and she folded her arms in a protective gesture across her breasts. “Fine. I want you. I won’t apologize for that or deny it.”

  The air in his lungs refused to leave. His chest tightened. Gabby wanted him too. Gabby—

  “But there’s no way in hell I’m going to act on it,” she finished flatly. “Because that would make me stupid.”

  Note from Shelli

  I do hope you enjoyed this book, I’d so appreciate it if you’d help others enjoy it too.

  Recommend it. Please help other readers find this book by recommending it.

  Review it. Please tell other readers why you liked this book by reviewing it at online retailers or your blog. Reader reviews help my books continue to be valued by distributors/resellers. I adore each and every reader who takes the time to write one!

  If you love the book or leave a review, please email shelli@shellistevens.com so I can thank you with a personal email. Your support means more than you’ll ever know! Thank you!

  About Shelli

  New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author Shelli Stevens writes a variety of romance genres including contemporary, cowboys, paranormal, and romantic comedy. Shelli is most known for her contemporary series such as Holding Out for a Hero, The McLaughlins, and A is for Alpha.

  She’s a compulsive volunteer, and has been known to spontaneously burst into song. She is a true pluviophile (lover of rain) and currently lives in the Pacific Northwest with her husband and two daughters.

  Connect with Shelli online:

  Visit Shelli’s website: www.shellistevens.com

  Follow Shelli on Facebook: www.facebook.com/authorshellistevens

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  Shelli recommends … Lexxie Couper

  Agent

  The Boundaries, Book #2

  Lexxie Couper

  Prologue

  The Suck and Blow Inn fell silent seconds after Tornada stepped into its murky depths. More than fifty patrons—most with eyes tinged pink from a Bliss high—turned to watch his sauntering progress across the floor.

  All took in the Jjor disrupter strapped to his thigh; a weapon banned in both the Inner and Outer Boundaries by the Unified Parliament. Tornada smiled to himself, enjoying the fear in the silence that followed him across the floor. Just the way it should be.

  He stopped at the bar, resting his elbows on its grimy surface as he gave the Hetap behind it a level look. “I’m looking for a redheaded Raavelian female.”

  The barkeeper poured a Jjor Slap and placed it on the counter between Tornada’s elbows. “Got a brunette Raavelian in Den Two and a redheaded Terran in Den Eight. Take your pick.”

  Tornada raised the Slap to his mouth, letting the Hetap see the dagger sheathed under his armpit. “No. Raavelian. Red hair. Green eyes.” He took a drink. “Likely to rip your throat out if you look at her the wrong way.”

  A shimmer of recognition flashed across the Hetap’s face and he licked his lips, suddenly on edge. “Psy Lyso’s slave.”

  Tornada’s smile stretched wide. Excellent. “When was she here?”

  The bartender glanced around the still silent inn, before returning his dull, mud-colored gaze once more to Tornada. “Almost a moon cycle ago.”

  “Do you know where she is now?”

  A slight hesitation followed, as if the Hetap weighed up something in his mind. “No.” He gave his head a sharp shake, multiple chins wobbling. “Lyso had a run-in with two mean looking bastards. Could’ve been Boundary Guardians.” He scrunched up his face. “One of them—a big fuckin’ Terran—had freaky yellow eyes.”

  Tornada lowered his Slap and gave the bartender an impatient look. “The Raavelian?”

  “Last I saw, she was walkin’ to an empty den with the same Yrathian that came in with the Terran. Those scarred-face bastards are meant to be impressive shit in the sack, I’ve heard. Don’t know what Lyso was thinking, giving up something so fine to a Yrathian.” The bartender shook his head again. “’Specially not one with the scars of a Master Pleasurer.”

  An unexpected but familiar surge of jealousy ripped through Tornada but he ignored it, giving the Hetap a flat look instead. “Do you know who she left with?”

  The bartender’s eyes narrowed. “Did Lyso steal her from you or somethin’?”

  “No.”

  “Why you after her, then?”

  An image of Jaienna flashed into Tornada’s mind; long copper-fire hair fanning her bare shoulders as she crawled up the length of his body on all fours, her exotic green eyes promising aallll sorts of pleasure. “No reason.”

  The Hetap raised his eyebrows. “Well, I know Lyso was pissed to lose her. He came storming out of Den Five, pissing blood and cursing the Terran. Seemed more annoyed about the Raavelian than his Bliss deal gone wrong.” A shudder rippled through the Hetap’s flabby frame. “Stupid, if you ask me. I’d rather cut off me own dick than piss off Hrung Crortek.”

  Tornada turned and stared out at the hovering patrons, playing over everything the Hetap had said in his mind. He now had four leads: a Yrathian with the scars of a Master Pleasurer; a Terran with unusual eyes; the Bliss dealer, Psy Lyso, and the infamous Ornithion crime lord, Hrung Crortek, a vile creature who virtually owned the Outer Boundaries. Jaienna could be with any of them, none of them… or all four of them, depending on what she was after. Another wave of stinging jealousy spiked into his gut and he cracked the knuckles of both hands. Fuck.

  He closed his eyes, an image of Jaienna filling his head immediately. A naked Jaienna straddling an equally naked and faceless Yrathian, her hips rolling backward and forward over his as she rode his cock. She let her head drop back, allowing the naked blue-skinned Xolotlan kneeling to her right to press his mouth to her arched neck, just as an aroused Hrung Crortek appeared behind her, snaking his clawed hands over her shoulders to cup and squeeze her perfect, heavy breasts.

  Three of them? Where’s the…

  The image shimmered. Suddenly—still being fucked and fondled by the Yrathian, Xolotlan and Ornithion—Jaienna gazed up at a hulking Terran. A faceless Terran with eyes like burning yellow gold. Fuck me, her lips said as she rocked against the thrusting Yrathian. Fuck me now.

  Searing heat shot straight to Tornada’s cock and he opened his eyes, cursing his over-active imagination. Four leads.

  Turning back to the hovering Hetap, he leant across the bar. “You got a holo-generator here?”

  “Den Eleven. End of the corridor. It’s ten thousand chits per session.”

  Tornada straightened. “It’s mine for the next three hours.” Stepping away from the bar, he headed toward the sex dens. Four leads to follow with Jaienna at the end of one of them. Maybe. If he was lucky.

  Stepping into Den Eleven, he removed a small transparent rod from a hidden compartment in his jacket and slid it into the holo-generator, standing still as the den pulsed with a vibrant purple light. A slight buzz filled the room—a sure sign the generator was black-market—and then a woman appeared before him, red hair a tumbled mass of copper-fire falling about her face and bare shoulders, green eyes flashing. “Hello, Tornada,” the holo-projection of Jaienna Ti said, voice tinny and hollow. “Shall we play?”

  Chapter 1

  Jaienna held her soft sigh in check, touching her fingertips to the scar on Zeric’s side. The moment they’d arrived back on his ship four days ago it had begun to heal. That hadn’t messed with her head. What had messed with her head was the silence. Silence that hadn’t changed in the entire time since she’d half-carried, half-led him to his quarters.

  Four days of trying to make him talk to her, look at her. But he’d constantly refused and now here she was, almost begging him with her eyes to acknowledge she was there and he did little but stare at the far wall.

  He was healing well. Too w
ell. When she’d dragged him to his quarters four days ago he’d looked like shit. Every inch of him had been marred by bloody gashes or ragged bite marks. None of those gashes seemed to exist anymore. With the exception of the faded wound in his side and the brooding silent treatment, the Terran Boundary Guardian was healed.

  He’s not just Terran, Jaienna. You have to remember that.

  No, he wasn’t. Zeric was something else altogether.

  Werewolf.

  She lifted her gaze to his face, noting the studied control there. His jaw was clenched, his nostrils flaring slightly with each breath he took. Breaths, she couldn’t help but notice, long and somewhat shaky.

  “Were there many other werewolves on Old Earth?”

  His jaw bunched more at her question, his eyes glinting gold fire. “Not that I knew of.”

  Her heart slammed into her throat. He’d answered her? Gods, he’d actually answered her?

  He shifted slightly on the edge of his bunk, his muscles coiling and flexing under his skin. “None.”

  Jaienna caught her bottom lip with her teeth, willing him to look at her. She needed him to make some kind of connection with her. Fuck, four days ago she’d saved his life and given him her heart.

  Is that really what you’re worried about? His lack of manners?

  No. She was worried that he wouldn’t talk. Or look at her. Or relax.

  He should be able to relax now. They’d defeated Crotek and were safe on his ship. Surely what they should be doing was relaxing in each other’s arms? And then maybe something not quite relaxing but just as—

  “I shall deposit you on Spaceport Ry’l as soon as possible,” Zeric suddenly spoke, his voice low. “Until then, it is safer for you to keep away from me. In Jak’s quarters.”

  Jaienna’s eyebrows shot up. She stared at him, her mouth falling open. “Jak’s what?” Her fingers hovered over the scar beneath his ribcage. “And where?”

  He turned his head a fraction more away from her. “Jak’s quarters. It will be safer there.”