by T. A. Grey
She felt heat behind her. "I'm afraid I don't have much of an interesting collection. Do you like to read?" Alison pretended to study the author of the dictionary for a moment before straightening.
"No, actually I don't." She didn't mean to tell the truth, and she really hadn’t meant to say it with such vehemence. She looked behind her to see his lips fighting a grin.
"Me too."
She gave him a look that said yeah right and rolled her eyes. "Then why do you have so many books. I mean this isn't just one bookshelf full, this is two, and they are stacked in front of each other so you have twice as many, and you have even more stacked sideways on top of those."
He laughed again and reached over her should to grab one off the shelf. "I'm a computer scientist. I kept many of my books from college, though many are outdated by today's programming standards. However as new editions come out of let's say, Java or C++, then I need to be alert of the changes. It's what I get paid to do."
"What's see plus plus?"
He flipped through the book, turned to a page, and showed it to her. "That looks like a bunch of random letters and numbers to me," she said.
"Of course, however, what I see is a basic program for creating word processing software. See, each program you use on a computer has to be created using different kinds of code. C++ is just one of them, one of the oldest too."
"So is that what you do? Make computer programs?"
He shrugged. "Among other things."
"Who do you work for?"
"Right now I have a contract with the Department of Defense. I have a deadline coming up, that's why I left the bed earlier." He grabbed her hips and suddenly she found herself crowded against the bookshelf, his mouth hot on hers. He broke the kiss and dove down to bury his face in her neck, breathing deep. "It was one of the hardest things I ever had to do."
Alison tried to ignore his words, but was afraid they were forever etched in her memory. Her stomach saved her from acknowledging his words when it growled.
He laughed and pressed a kiss to her neck. "That sounded like a bear about to kill a man."
She bit her lip to keep from laughing. "Do you like to eat?" He raised his head slowly and stared at her.
"Yes, I find food quite enjoyable”—he looked like he was fighting not to laugh—“Why don't you let me make something for you?"
"That’s not what I meant! I mean, I cook. It's what I do. Want some breakfast?" He arched a brow and nodded. She moved to pass him, but he stopped her by cupping a breast through her nightgown. She stifled a moan as her nipple instantly responded to his touch, hardening in his hot palm. He watched her expression as he pinched and tugged the peak. Only after she gasped and flushed with arousal did he let her go.
"I'm not done with you Alison, and don't forget that I have questions for you. And I expect honest answers or else." She left the room and his threatening words on quick feet.
* * *
Rome watched Alison moved around his kitchen as if she'd been his cook for years. She found all the utensils, pots, pans, and food like she’d put them there herself. She even managed to find a cheese grater he didn't even know he had.
Watching her move around his kitchen made him feel something he'd never felt before, it was like he had another purpose now. To do what though, he had no idea. But he was betting it wasn't just to eat whatever it was she was making.
Damn it smelled good in here. The skillet sizzled as she dropped a dollop of butter in it. She added chopped onion and vegetables and soon the kitchen blazed with delicious scents. She opened his fridge and bent down to grab the milk, revealing her round cheeks to perfection. He groaned and ran a hand over his hard cock.
Soon, he told it, soon. She was killing him in that thing. He wanted to put her on the table and fuck her right now. But the need to feed her was stronger than fucking her, though not by much.
"So what's your history with Conlin?" She faltered in mid-step and put the milk away. He hated the way her glowing skin dimmed at the mention of Conlin. He wanted to bloody the man's face with his bare hands, but first he needed to learn about him. The man was sick; no doubt about that, and his perverted interest in Alison was going to stop. He’d see sure to it.
"I don't like to talk about it. You know, your kitchen isn't nearly adequate. You have no non-stick pans, or even a whisk for that matter, and you only have three dried seasonings. Salt, pepper, and dill. I know you're not a chef, but how do you eat? Heck, what do you eat?"
He laughed at her jab and let the deflection go, for the moment. "I eat when I can, I don't usually have time to eat a lot or cook with work. I usually just throw a steak on the grill or in the broiler."
She spun to look at him with wide eyes. "And that's all? No vegetables or anything?" He shrugged and laughed at her expression. Deep warmth spread through his chest and he rubbed at it curiously. She sounded almost as if she cared about him.
"Why? Does it bother you that I don't eat much," he taunted her, leaning back in his chair, his legs crossed at the ankles in front of him.
Her mouth opened to reply, but she stopped, stirred the food, and then replied taking care with her words. "I only want you to have good nutrition, that's all."
He burst out laughing at her awkwardness. She cut him a hard glare that had him stifling his chuckles between tight lips. She pulled plates out of a cabinet and plated the food.
"Wow, this smells great. It looks good too." Her eyes lit up as she set the plate in front of him. She seated herself and stared at him expectantly until finally he cut a bite of his chicken breast and took a bite.
He closed his eyes and groaned at the juicy, creamy flavor of chicken, garlic, and mushrooms. When he could open his eyes, again he saw that she was smiling brilliantly. She was so beautiful it made his heart hurt. "I haven't had anything this good except at a restaurant before."
She pouted, her brow furrowing. "You're just saying that." She turned to her plate and picked up her knife and fork as if they were made of heavy iron.
"Hey, hey," he said, cupping her delicate wrist in his hand. "I meant it. I'd hire you on as my personal cook if you'd let me." She smiled at him as if he just told her she won the lottery. He had trouble forming the words over the desert in his throat, but it was worth it when he saw her expression. "You're beautiful, Alison, especially when you smile. I'd like it if you did it more for me."
Chapter 9
"So now why don't you tell me about your past relationship with Conlin?" Rome asked, putting the last of the dishes away.
Alison pulled her feet up under her. "Listen, why don't you just stay out of my business."
He dried his hands and sat across from her, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his thighs. He was invading her space like he was about to conduct an interrogation. And he probably was.
"Nope, that's not how this works, baby. You're under the protection of the Kategan pack. If you're going to stay here and use our people for protection, then we have a right to know what's going on." She balked at his words, but he didn't relent. He hated being firm with her, but it was necessary. "Whatever your past hang-ups are with Conlin they’re finished, right? So tells me what's going on. Why's he after you now when you stopped dating over two years ago. What set him off and what happened two years ago that has you so scared?"
Alison pressed her head into her hands, squeezing her eyes shut to stop the flow of tears that was desperately fighting to get out. I will not cry in front of him. She'd always been a crier, a fault she most heatedly despised about herself. It did nothing for her, yet in moments of stress or high emotion, she couldn't stop it.
She hated him so much for making her do this. She wanted to just get up and leave the protection of the Kategan pack. But she wasn't that stupid. No matter that he wanted her to relive memories she was still trying to forget. He was right though, it wasn't fair for them not to have the whole story, or at least some of it.
She turned her head to rest her cheek on her knee a
nd stare out the kitchen window. "I met Conlin at a Pride party nearly three years ago. He approached me, talked to me, flirted with me. I couldn't believe it, he was so handsome, so, famous. Plus I was a bit of a flirt. He just made me feel so good. I'd never felt anything like that before. Of course, with all things good there's the bad. However good he made me feel when he wanted to, he would just as quickly turn. It was like he had two faces, both beautiful, but one was the face of a monster." She laughed and it sounded bitter and hollow.
"Anyways, we dated for several months. I only saw the bad side of him a few times, he always covered it up quickly. It was after we started having sex that the other side, or maybe it's started coming out more and more. God, I used to cringe when he'd call me or not answer the phone. Of course he found out I was doing that too." A warm tear fell down her cheek, and she wiped it on her arm discreetly.
Just hold in there, I can do this. She couldn't turn to see how Rome was taking this. She didn't want to see his pity, shame, or anything that might be there. She was the stupid one who was so caught up in his nice smiles and handsome lies that she didn't see the warning signs. If she hadn’t been too busy trying to fall in love, she might have seen it.
The tight grip on her arm, the furious anger when she'd talk to another man, and the shiny glint in his eyes that he'd get when she'd say or do the wrong thing. The same look that made her beast cower inside her.
She saw all that but downplayed it to just one of his faults in light of his many wonderful attributes. Or that he was just having a bad day everyone had those. No one was perfect. And everyone was caught being a fool sometime.
"I suppose I should get to the point. Um, the sex got stranger and soon afterwards, I told him that I didn't want to see him anymore. He was fine with it too. He even smiled and hugged me, said he understood, said he still wanted to be my friend. That was the first night since the first day I met him that I actually felt one-hundred percent good. So I told him I was going to go get my things. I probably shouldn't have broken things off while I was at his place, huh?”
“I went to his bedroom to grab my toothbrush and a few pieces of clothes I had there." She stopped and took a deep, shuddering breath. "I'm not going to go over the rest but, he beat me and tried to rape me. It was the most terrifying experience of my life."
She hugged her knees tighter and stared unblinking at a tree branch through the window. Wetness pooled in her eyes and she focused until they dried up before continuing. "Anyways, he's an asshole. For a while after that night I stayed with my parents. They didn't understand, hell my dad didn't want to hear anything about it. For about a month after I got home I started receiving phone calls with no one on the other end. It was him. I knew it. I could feel it. But that was two years ago. It was a few weeks ago, before the break-in, when I started receiving the same kind of phone calls. Only this time with nasty letters."
"Why do you think he's trying to...reconnect with you?" Rome's deep voice was harsher than usual.
"At Sarina's wedding, I said something to distract him when he had her. It worked but I think after he saw me it reminded him that I exist or something. I don't know." She stood a little too quickly and teetered as blood fought to rush to her legs. She made herself sound cool and unaffected, it was pretty convincing in her opinion. "I have to go now. I need to get back to my café and make preparations for my busted apartment and so on." She stared straight ahead and moved to walk past him.
He didn't let her. He stood and wrapped his arms around her, hugging her to him. She stood stiff as a board in his arms. When he tried to tilt her face up to his, she fought it, but finally gave in when she realized that doing what he wanted would speed her escape along.
She lifted her face toward his but shut her eyes. She didn't know what she was going to see there, but either way didn't bode well for her. If it was pity then she'd knife him, if it was a smile she'd slap him, if it was indignant anger for her she'd run from the room.
His words made her look at him. "Look at me, lumara," he said gently. Bondmate, he'd called her, the most intimate term for a loved one, a close one to a lykaen, and she was mush in his hands.
She opened her eyes and looked at him, her eyes tracing over his face taking in every line, point, and expression. His mouth was flat with anger and contempt, his eyes blazing with possession. She should want to go right now, run, and hide in her room, but she didn't. His hands stroked her arms, then her back in long reassuring strokes that soon had her falling against him.
She lost herself in his eyes. For the life of her she couldn't remember why looking at him was so bad to begin with. His eyes were a grey with a thin white rim on the outside holding in all that stormy color. "Beautiful." She didn't realize she'd spoken aloud until his features softened and his lips curled into a smile. Not the grin that said he was laughing, but a genuine, happy smile.
His head bent and stopped right before hers. She knew what he was going to do and her heart pumped faster, her breeding cycle spun inside her at the obvious willing male; it wanted her to lie down, spread herself, and let his seed fill her.
His lips passed over hers once, twice, then licked the pink flesh before claiming her mouth in a fierce, sensual kiss. It was a kiss unlike any other. His lips retreated, and she followed them finding only air. He chuckled deeply, then brought her tighter against his body, his tongue tracing the soft contour of her lips before sliding between them. He stroked her tongue with hungry passion and she met him with silken slides of her own.
He grabbed her bottom and rocked her hard against the erection trapped inside his jeans. Her breeding cycle spun like a tornado, increasing her arousal until the kitchen smelled of her creamy heat. His tongue was long and thick and it plundered her mouth creating an aching pulse inside her.
She tore her mouth from his and stepped away to fumble with the button and zipper of his jeans. Color was high on his cheeks as she released his zipper, letting his cock spring forth to freedom. She grasped the hard length, moaning at the soft skin and hard feel of him.
"Please," she begged, pressing wet kisses against his neck. "Get inside me, please." Her urgent demand snapped his control like a piece of twine holding an anvil. He picked her up by her ass and set her on the kitchen table letting her legs dangle over the side. He tore off his shirt before ripping the thin straps of her nightgown off her arms. She gasped and wiggled as he drew the dress down her stomach, over her hips, and off her legs.
He growled at the sight of her. Her breasts were round, supple and her nipples several shades darker than her pale skin. He palmed a pale mound and lifted the hard tip to his mouth. He lavished her nipple with flat-tongued kisses before sucking the tip into the hot heat of his mouth.
She melted in his arms, turned into a primal animal that craved only one thing. He switched to the other breast just as two long fingers curved around her wet pussy, then pushed inside.
"Oh, God!" she cried out, and clamped him to her breast as if to keep him there. His fingers began driving in and out. Sensations ricocheted through her, blinding her with pleasure. Too fast, too soon. Shuddering hard, she erupted over his thrusting fingers in a hot, creamy flood.
"God damn, baby," he groaned over her breast, his own breath coming in heavy pants. Her pussy clamped on his wiggling fingers, capturing them. He raised himself over her body and took in her flushed cheeks and chest, her nipples red from his sucking.
He pulled his fingers from her body and petted her wet pussy in gentle, light strokes. With each caress, he grazed her clitoris, causing her hips to rise like waves. She looked at him from between hooded lashes and felt bewitched.
Her glasses were still perched on her nose, though in her orgasm they had twisted a little and now sat crooked. He'd never seen anything hotter. He swallowed hard and curled his fingers back into her pussy, pushing and retreating, teasing himself with the knowledge that he'd be fucking her soon.
"You know you look like a naughty librarian. Like you just fucked a customer i
n the back of the some book aisle." He licked his lips thinking that taking her in such an interesting location wouldn't be such a bad idea, and judging from the flare of heat he saw in her eyes, she was thinking the same thing.
Her eyes flicked down his body, tracing the path of chest hair. Where the hair on his head was the color of wheat, the hair on his chest that trailed to a delicious thin line at his belly button was the color of cedar. His cock stood proudly from his hips, shiny liquid covering the tip.
His hands cupped her breasts, tugged her nipples, before sliding warmly down her stomach, and over rounded hips to squeeze her thighs and press them wide.
"I love your thighs, baby. Round, soft, and perfect." He held her inner thigh in his big hands and squeezed said flesh. "God I want you so bad, lumara."
"Then take me." He didn’t need to be told twice.
He pulled her to the edge of the table and pushed her legs open, stepping between them. "Stay just like that." He watched her pussy with dark, blazing eyes as he pushed his jeans down to his ankles. He bent down to her pussy and gave one slow sweep of his tongue over her soft pussy lips.
"Rome!" Just as she shouted, he stood, positioned himself, and shoved into her. Her pussy was slick with creamy passion. Her wet channel was so tight he had to work to push his cock through it.
Finally filling her all the way, he thrust into her with the hard, urgent thrusts of a man seeking release. Alison cried out at the fullness inside her, loving the way he seemed to reach all of her. He stayed above her, pinning her down by her thighs, holding her still for his hammering thrusts.