Wicked Pleasures

by Rhonda Lee Carver

  He traced one strap off her shoulder, following the shape with the tip of his finger. “Do you know why we connect? Is that why you’ve come back?”

  “I know there’s history between us. I feel it becoming clearer with each second that we’re together. And right now, at this moment, I need you—I need this.”

  “You’re mind opens and closes to me. You’re gaining power over your thoughts.” He threaded his fingers into her silky hair.

  “You’re afraid, aren’t you?” she asked.

  “Me? Afraid? Why would I be?”

  “You’ve been hurt. Everyone gets knocked down once in a while, Roark.”

  “It’s not that simple, sweetheart. Some choices come with drastic consequences.” He swallowed the acid taste in the back of his throat.

  “I want you,” she whispered. “There is no denying the truth of desire.”

  “Don’t deny the feeling. Let it go,” he said.

  She brought her lips to his and they kissed with passion and yearning. He rolled his tongue along her soft lips and darted it inside her mouth, savoring her like he would a fine, aged wine. She was bolder and sweeter than anything he’d ever tasted. He’d lived for many years, and no one could compare.

  He dropped his hands to her shoulders and dragged the straps down her arms, exposing the birthmark, until her chest was visible to his hungry eyes. Her pink nipples were hard and her breasts were full. He palmed her soft flesh and flicked the pert buds, loving the feel of her. “Beautiful. I’ve never seen a better pair.”

  “So you don’t like big breasts?” her chuckle was deep and throaty, more like a teaser.

  “I like yours. They fit perfectly in my palms.” He gently squeezed them.

  As she rolled her head to the side, her hair fell to his chest, like glossy raindrops against his heated skin. “I like the way you touch me.”

  “I want to see the rest of you. Let me see what treasure awaits my pleasure.” He pushed her dress lower. She helped him by sitting back and sliding the garment from her legs. All that remained was a wisp of lace. “Those must go.” He slid his fingers under each string of her panties and in one jerk, he snapped the threads and they fell from her hips. He tossed the useless material.

  She lifted herself up, straddling him and her thighs were in a wide V. Her pussy opened in invitation. He lifted his fingers to her center and rolled the pad of his thumb across her moist lips then thrust his middle finger into her. With each pump, her breathing became heavier and ragged. He knew she was close to release and he wanted to please her. Her tongue darted out to smooth over her bottom lip.

  Waiting was no longer an option…

  He grabbed her hips and tugged her down onto his stick. Her tight muscles eased around his girth and he counted to ten, demanding that his cock behave. He wasn’t ready to allow nature to avail—wanting to give her pleasure.

  As her body accustomed to his size, she rode him, lowering deeper, and then lifting to the tip of his cock, and she rounded her hips in a delicious circle. He bit his bottom lip until he tasted blood. He would go too quickly, and that was unacceptable.

  In one quick motion, he pushed her onto her back and lifted her legs over his shoulders. He braced her ass with his hands and her pussy was face level. He bent his head and licked her sweet juices from her soft skin—using his tongue like a wand, twirling and whirling magic. She ground her lips against his as he suckled her clit. Her moan echoed off the walls as she gripped the sheet, her nails scraping and tearing at the fine fabric. The connection became a heated frenzy and her warmth squirted into his mouth as he drank her like sweet water to a parched man. When the quivering in her loins stopped, he moved her legs and swiped the back of his hand across his lips.

  He braced himself above her. “Bronte?” Her eyes opened and he stared down into pale beauty. “I won’t last long.”

  She brought her hands up and clutched his shoulders, lifting her hips to meet his. The unspoken invitation was all he needed. He buried himself inside her tight opening and he shook as his body released.

  He rolled beside her onto the mattress and pulled her beside him. She was limp and he knew satisfied. “All I ever want to do is bring you wicked pleasure,” he said.

  Her gaze met his. “I’ve never known such passion…such sweet, sweet agony.”

  A tear slid from the corner of her eye and slid down her rosy cheek. He wiped it with his thumb. “Why are you crying?”

  “I…I…don’t know,” she said through a sob.

  “Did I hurt you?” he asked.

  “No.”

  “Did I do something you didn’t want me to?” He lifted himself slightly as concern edged its way through him.

  “No.” More tears fell.

  “Then what, sweetheart?” He held her gaze. He started to answer, but he couldn’t. He hadn’t cried in years, and he wasn’t about to now. He didn’t want Bronte to see his weaker side. Remaining strong was crucial, until the curse lifted and those he cared for were safe.

  “I’ve never felt so deeply, so overcome with joy. Like I’ve been living outside of my body and now I’m back again.”

  If laughing was inappropriate, then he was entirely out of line. He couldn’t help chuckling at her sweet emotions. He laid his head back down and tucked her in the nook of his arm. “Know one thing, it is my duty and my life’s work to protect you and take care of you.”

  “Roark, these are modern times. I can very well take care of myself,” she said, sniffling.

  “I’m sure you believe you can.” He slid up from bed.

  “Where are you going? You need to rest,” she said.

  He reached down and ripped off the bandage. “Looks like I’m good to go.”

  Chapter 10

  BRONTE COULDN’T BELIEVE what she was seeing. Roark’s wound was gone and there wasn’t even a glimpse of a scar. She lifted herself up on her knees, careless of her nudity, and touched his ribs. “Oh my…is that how it works? You heal like this when you’re a wolf?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “Not always. Some things can never heal.”

  “What?”

  “Our heart.”

  She watched as he went to the wardrobe and grabbed a pair of jeans, sliding them up his long legs . “Is that what happened? An enemy wolf attacked you?”

  “I was overcome with emotion and alcohol. I was caught unaware,” he said.

  “Wolves don’t drink?”

  “We can, but on rare occasions because we are lightweights, so to speak.”

  “And why were you emotional?” Her curiosity grew.

  “How many more questions do you plan to ask me?” One brow lifted.

  “Tons more. Is that a problem?”

  He shrugged. “Depends. I may not be able to answer everything.”

  “Were you upset because I had left?” He blinked and she knew her answer. “I didn’t want you to go out and get yourself killed.”

  He chuckled. “That wasn’t the plan.”

  “Tell me, Roark. I need to know…”

  “What?”

  “You know what I’m asking,” she said.

  He sat down on the edge of the bed. “I will tell you. It’s time. The vision you had, the one of Jillian and I, the night her father fell from the cliff. We were celebrating.” Bronte swallowed and it seemed loud in the room. “We had married.”

  A moan escaped her and she brought her palm up to cover her mouth. Tears welled in her eyes. She dropped her hand to her lap. “You and Jillian married?” Her heart sank.

  “Bronte…do you not see the truth? You are Jillian. Maybe not every aspect, but her spirit lives in you. I know this is hard to understand, but I hold the same union with you. A wolf mates for life, and as long as you and I are alive, we are joined.”

  His words struck her like a heavy weight? “What? You’re right, I don’t understand.”

  He got up, went to the nightstand and withdrew something. “Read this.” He handed her a piece of paper.

/>   Bronte took it but hesitated. She watched him through blurred vision. Seconds passed until she finally opened it and read the neat writing.

  “To my love. There are no words I could write to prove how sorry I am for doubting you. I made a mistake and now it’s too late. All I can ask is that one day you will find forgiveness in your heart. I will forever and always love you. If it’s true that love has more power than time, then I will find you. I promise to return and make this right. Watch for the signs that I have come and know love will survive. I’m writing you not to ask for your pity, but to warn you of enemies who wish you harm. Beware the—”

  “It’s not finished. Is this from Jillian?” she asked.

  He stood at the window, naked and beautiful. “I found it in her hand as she lay dying. I didn’t make it to her in time. I grew to hate her for what she’d done to my family—to me. I hated you, because I know she lives within you. But love and hate are only divided by a thin line and once you came here, I lost my wall of protection. We can’t allow our emotions to take over again. I can’t allow myself to rule with my heart again, but my feelings are strong.”

  She dropped the letter to the bed. “This is crazy, Roark. I’m not Jillian. Yes, we are related, but I’m my own person.”

  “You choose not to remember. How can you deny the visions you have? You say yourself that we are connected.”

  “Maybe you’re hoping that I’m Jillian. You want your lost love back,” she said. Her chest tightened.

  “You and I are mated, that is the rule of my tribe. We shall reproduce and this damn curse will lift. It is our duty to fix what we wronged,” he said. He left the window. “Get dressed and let’s go,” he said as he pulled on a shirt.

  “Where are we going?” she asked.

  “You’ll see.”

  “It’d be nice if just once you’d explain where we’re going, why we’re going and not just throw out a command. I like answers.”

  “Questions later. Come now. We have work to do.”

  “No, not until you answer me!”

  “There’s no need for me to explain when you’ll find out soon enough.” He didn’t wait for her response. “You’re coming with me. If you say one more word I swear I’ll lock you in your room for the remainder of today.”

  Crossing her arms over her chest, she angled her chin and looked at him down her nose. “You wouldn’t dare! And I know better. I’ve learned you, Roark. You’re not going to like it when I know all of your secrets and weaknesses.”

  “What makes you think you’ll know everything?”

  “Just wait and see,” she said with a chuckle.

  “You’re getting bold. I’m not sure if I should congratulate you or show you who wears the pants.”

  “That is a sexist remark. And if I thought you were serious, I’d have a huge issue. A man and woman are equals.”

  Scratching his chin, he sighed. “Truth is, I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

  “Wow…did we just agree on something?” She couldn’t believe her ears.

  “I believe so,” he said. “Now, in all seriousness, we can walk and talk, right? We have pressing matters.”

  Bronte went to her bedroom, dressed and followed Roark outside. Once again, she was uncertain of what they were doing or where they were going. She’d had enough surprises over the last few days. And then he dumps on her that they’re married—or rather, he married Jillian. The story only got crazier.

  There were still a few loose ends.

  Forcing Roark’s hand at telling her everything wouldn’t work in her favor. She had a feeling he didn’t know all of the details himself, and he’d had his heart broken once upon a time which meant his history was a sore subject.

  Her frustration grew. Why couldn’t she remember everything Azelda had told her? Why was her mind fighting the facts? As educated and cleaver as she thought she was, why couldn’t she put the pieces together? Nothing made sense. Roark seemed different than any man she’d ever met. They’d made love and it’d been the most intimate lovemaking she’d ever experienced.

  And he was a wolf…

  Part wolf.

  What would her friends think? They’d check her into a hospital.

  And then there was Gage. Before she’d been kidnapped, she’d told him that she needed some time away from the relationship. Before she could commit herself to a future with him, she needed to figure out what her expectations were. Now, she realized she didn’t love Gage. Probably never had. She couldn’t possibly love Gage if she felt such strong emotion for Roark.

  Her gaze tracked him as he walked in front of her. She roved the brawny lines of his muscular form. He was different than any man she’d ever known, and he wasn’t an ogre. The more she knew about him, the more she understood that he was a man full of emotion.

  The letter opened channels to other truths.

  She stopped walking. There was warning in the letter Jillian had written…

  Her throat tightened. Had Jillian been murdered? If so, by who?

  “Can you walk any slower?”

  She brought her gaze upward and Roark had paused also. “Can you be ruder?” she said. “Can’t you see I’m thinking here?”

  “Anything you’d like to share?” he asked.

  “Jillian warned you of danger. Who was she talking about?”

  His gaze slanted. “If I knew he’d be dead.”

  “The same wolf who attacked you last night and left you for dead?”

  “We’re on the same page,” he said.

  “Is that what keeps you imprisoned here, within your property?” she asked.

  “I’m stronger here, and the only priority I have is taking care of the curse, and you. It’s important that you stay here, this is where you’re safe.”

  “Why would I be unsafe?” she asked. “Is it because the person who killed Jillian wants me dead as well because he thinks I’m her?”

  He pushed a hand through his hair and lines crinkled at the corners of his eyes. “I’ve asked myself a hundred times these same questions. I’ve watched over you, and not once have you been unsafe—but I believe you could be now. I don’t think it’s you they want dead though.”

  “You think this person wants you dead?”

  He nodded. “I believe Jillian would have told me who she thought betrayed the clan, but he got there before she could finish the letter.”

  “So, if I’m Jillian, why can’t I remember who murdered me, her, uhh…us?”

  He snorted and continued walking. She stayed behind. Her feelings for him crept up on her like insanity. She hadn’t wanted to like him, and certainly didn’t want to love him. Somewhere along the way the lines of rationality and probability had blurred. He’d been her captor and he’d been mean to her…but not really. He’d shown her kindness in many ways. He did have a roughness, but it was only a thin layer deep.

  Tears formed in her eyes. She was falling in love with him. Would her heart be broken? Roark stopped and so did she, leaving a few feet between them. Knowing he could read her thoughts, she focused on the fact that they were standing by an old, dilapidated barn that appeared to be held together by a splinter and a nail. Barn…Barn…Barn. She continued the mantra to keep her mind on track. It was no use.

  “Bronte? Are you okay? Are you hurt?” he asked.

  “I’m worried. Are my father and those who I care about safe?”

  “No one plays a significant role—”

  “But Fallon, you made me contact her. Doesn’t that put her at risk? I couldn’t bear to think of anything happening to her.”

  “If it means that much to you, I will have someone watch her.”

  She debated his offer. “Not Shelby, right?” she asked.

  “No, not Shelby,” he said. “I’m glad you say that because I’ve already sent someone to protect her.”

  “You have? Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

  He shrugged. “Because I didn’t know how you’d react. Now stop worrying. C
oncern makes us unproductive. And it’s not fair to tell me to take a flying leap, not even in your mind.”

  Yeah, she guessed he still got a peek into her thoughts. She was grateful when Caleb stepped out of the barn as a diversion from further conversation with Roark. Caleb kept his gaze steady on her as he moved the short distance to meet them. She cringed. Roark took the man to the side and they spoke in a hushed tone. A few minutes later, Roark came back and Caleb went back into the barn.

  “I know that expression? Who do you want to tear apart now?” Roark asked.

  “Who is he?”

  “Caleb?”

  “Yes, Caleb.”

  “Why?” Roark answered briskly then started walking.

  “He’s a bit odd.” Bronte followed Roark around the building. The breeze was picking up and she had to hold her skirt down so it wouldn’t fly up. Goose bumps broke out on her skin.

  “He’s not odd.”

  “Of course, not when it’s coming from you. Odd could be your middle name. Do you trust him?”

  “With my life,” he answered.

  She’d been staring out along the field and hadn’t realized he’d stopped. She struck his iron hard back, nose first. He didn’t budge. The crash sent her backward and onto her bottom onto the thick grass. The hem of her skirt flew up to her hips and she quickly pushed it down.

  He smiled. “Karma sure is a bitch, isn’t it?”

  “Stick your karma where it doesn’t shine.” She checked her nose for bleeding. It hurt but at least it wasn’t broken. “Do you wear a bullet proof vest under your shirt?”

  He stuck out his hand for her and she accepted it. He lifted her onto her feet. “I don’t need a bullet proof vest.”

  “Coming from a man who was injured recently.”

  “Touche.”

  He didn’t let go of her hand immediately. It was a perfect fit. Warm tingles spread through her body and she was hypnotized under his magnetic spell. She wanted more of him. But it didn’t happen. He let her go and turned away. She swiped her hands together as she brushed past him in a fast walking pace.