by Kate Douglas
“How long will this last?” she asked after taking her own deep breath.
“About three more weeks,” he replied.
She looked up at him then, her gaze resting on eyes as green and as deep as the ocean. “And you’ve got nothing better to do than to stay by my side for the next three weeks? Day and night? What about your job? Your life?”
“I’m military,” he said sternly. “Special contract work only. I don’t have any assignments lined up at the moment.”
“And your personal life? Your girlfriend?” Because he was beyond fine; her body’s secondary reaction to his proximity could attest to that.
While it seemed that his touch stopped the agonizing pain and sickness that racked her body, Marena also had to admit how sexual his closeness made her feel. It wasn’t something that she thought about often, not even something that was regularly penciled in on her agenda. But in the hours she’d been with Phelan she’d thought about sex, specifically about sex with him, more often than she had in years. Even now, with his hands still firmly on her waist, her nipples were already hardening, her pussy throbbing with a long-ignored need. It was no wonder the word “girlfriend” had popped so easily into her mind.
“I don’t do girlfriends,” was his clipped reply. “I’ll start the shower. Channing and Kira will fix you something to eat, I’m sure. I can send them a text to let them know to knock when it’s ready; that way I don’t have to leave you to go out and get it.”
He didn’t do girlfriends.
And she didn’t do boyfriends.
Marena almost smiled.
“I think I can run my own shower,” she told him.
“You know the pain will start again the moment we part. I don’t like to see you that way, so I’d rather not go through that again if we don’t have to. I can run the shower.”
“And then what?” she asked, immediately stepping behind him because he’d begun to move and she knew that he was right.
Whenever he was apart from her, the pain began anew, sometimes coming even stronger. The last bout in the living room had felt like something was crushing her bones. The intensity of that pain had caused the nausea to hit like a tidal wave and that’s why she’d gone down. She’d been embarrassed and thankful all at the same time for Phelan’s quick action in coming to her and putting his hands on her.
They were in the bathroom now, a bright and airy space with slate-tiled walls and marble floors.
“I’ll stand right here,” he told her after opening the glass shower stall door and leaning in to turn on the water.
“While I shower?” she asked. “I think I can manage this part by myself.”
Sure, Marena had admitted that his proximity was good for her physical condition, but taking a shower in front of him was still a bit much for her to swallow.
He looked at her then, one brow arched in question. Then with a shrug he began to move, passing her as he went to the door. Marena was determined to get through at least this one task on her own. She didn’t know this man and she didn’t know these people. All she knew for certain was that she’d needed to get away from San Francisco before she was arrested and she needed to figure out where the hell Davis had disappeared to. He was obviously alive since he hadn’t been in the hotel room when the police arrived, which meant that he could clear her name. If she could figure out where he was.
She had no idea how she was going to do that but figured she’d be in a much better frame of mind to think about it once she’d had a hot shower and some food in her stomach. After hearing the door click closed behind her she reached for the hem of her shirt and pulled it up over her head.
That action alone had spasms of pain racing up and down her back. She gritted her teeth, holding back the scream that threatened to erupt. Unhooking her bra was another painful task, but she toughed that out as well. She toed her shoes off and pushed the jeans and her panties down her legs. It was at that moment she realized she hadn’t brought her bag into the bathroom with her, which meant she was going to have to go out there with a towel wrapped around her to get her clothes.
The quivering of her legs and dizziness hit her then and she forgot about the clothes, reaching out to hold on to the shower door handle. A part of her feared this was only going to get worse, while the fighter in her—the part that had worked three jobs to get through college and stayed up all night studying for the bar exam—demanded that she push forward. She stepped into the stall, letting the hot water pelt against her naked body. For an instant she thought there was relief, but then everything went dark and she felt herself sliding down until she was sitting on the shower floor.
Laughter, loud and clear, erupted in her mind.
I’m not through with you yet.
It was Davis’s voice and Marena trembled when she heard it. She almost expected to see him standing right there in front of her, but her eyes wouldn’t open and the darkness beneath her lids remained.
“Davis,” she whispered just before pain seized every part of her body.
Her eyes watered and she felt the tears slipping past her closed lids as she bit down on her lower lip in an attempt to keep from crying out. She grew hot all over, until she felt like she was on fire. That coupled with the hot water splashing down on her was too much and Marena finally yelled out.
He was there in seconds, touching the side of her face. His touch immediately sent flashes of light behind her closed lids and what seemed like a cool breeze against the white-hot pain that had infiltrated her body. Her eyes opened immediately then and she saw him kneeling down next to her, the water drenching his clothed body. Gasping, she whispered, “Phelan.”
She didn’t know him. Yet a part of her recognized him. This new part that she hadn’t quite accepted knew exactly who he was and welcomed his presence with an unexplainable emotion. The “why” to all of this was an equal mystery, but at this moment Marena knew one thing for sure: she wanted him right here with her.
And when he lifted her into his arms, cradling her in his lap as he sat on the bench in the shower, Marena sighed. She gave in and she wept because she needed him. Even if it was temporary, she knew now, without a doubt, that she needed him to stay near, to keep her from buckling in pain and, she hoped, from the voice that had sounded so close in her head.
“Let’s get you washed up,” he said after it seemed like he’d held her forever.
Her heart rate had slowed, the sweltering heat that had engulfed her cooled, and she’d just begun to notice that his hands were touching her naked body.
Without waiting for her reply, Phelan was standing, letting her move slowly until she was on her own feet. He grabbed the sponge and soap and lathered it in his hands. In seconds he had that soapy sponge on her body, moving methodically, as if he did this every day.
He circled the sponge at her neck, moving around, being extremely careful of the bite mark that was still sensitive on her shoulder. Returning to the front again, he soaped her right breast. Lifting it with one hand, he moved the sponge beneath and around, circling her nipple.
Marena sucked in a breath at the touch. It wasn’t intimate in its intent; she could tell because Phelan hadn’t slowed his motions at all. He simply continued as if he wanted to get the job done as thoroughly and quickly as he could. Still, her clit began a slow, delicious throb.
As he lifted her arms, rubbing down her torso and over her abdomen, that soapy sponge moved, her body warming with each swipe. Another woman might have been modest and quite possibly would have shirked at being naked in front of a man she’d only met hours earlier, but not Marena. She’d grown up in a two-bedroom house with three brothers and one sister. Privacy was a luxury Marena had never been afforded and so she’d never managed to feel any shame or embarrassment when it came to her body, not then and especially not now that she was an adult. Still, she couldn’t deny that no other man had ever made her body warm and respond the way Phelan was doing.
Showering was a simple task, a necessity, and
something a lot of people would consider humdrum at best. But not this shower, not this time. Marena’s mind was moving a mile a minute as with each stroke of that sponge on her she imagined it was Phelan’s fingers instead.
When he circled over her hips, going down to midway on her thighs, she imagined his thick hands sliding over her skin. At her sides her fingers tingled as she found herself wanting to palm her own breasts, to tweak her nipples until little spikes of pleasure were shooting straight down to her clit. That would, at least, give some semblance of relief. But she did not move.
That wasn’t correct. She lifted her leg, placing her foot on the bench as he’d directed by touching the back of her thigh. He hadn’t spoken a word, but she’d known he was ready to wash between her legs. Marena wasn’t surprised that she was ready for that as well.
The first touch was lighter than she expected, a quick swipe that barely had the sponge touching her now-swollen vulva lips. She looked down to see if Phelan was looking at her, in search of those green eyes she was beginning to find solace in. He wasn’t looking at her but down at his hand as he moved the sponge between her legs and back out again. This movement was slower than any of the others and Marena found herself watching it now as well. He held the sponge in the palm of his hand, his fingers on the sides. So each time he dragged the sponge over her, his fingers touched her lips as well. It was a featherlight touch that sent pleasurable tendrils soaring throughout her body. So many that by the third touch her thighs had begun to tremble. His free hand moved then, reaching up to cup her plentiful ass. Marena gasped at the quick and possessive squeeze, her hands immediately going to his shoulders in an effort to steady herself.
He did look at her then, questions clear in his eyes, but no words coming forth. Seconds later he was pulling back, letting the water splash against her body as he dropped the sponge to the shower floor, his hands sliding from her ass. Soap washed over and off her body in steady streams.
In the next moments, without his hands on her, Marena began to move somewhat robotically at this point, the sting of his apparent rejection ringing loud and clear. This was beginning to be too much, the up and down of emotions, the questions without answers, and now this persistent sexual need burning inside her that had so quickly and succinctly been denied. Marena wanted to scream as the inability to control herself, much less her surroundings, threatened to overwhelm her. Instead, she found herself gasping at what Phelan did next.
He touched her again, this time his fingers going between her legs, parting her tender lips just seconds before he knelt down, leaning in closer to twirl his tongue slowly over her clit. With his other hand he pushed against her inner thigh, spreading her wider. With an inward and grateful sigh, Marena gripped the back of his head, holding him in place while thrusting her pussy farther into his face. He was licking her, long and slow, the pad of his tongue moving sinuously over her plump folds and beneath the sensitive hood of her clit. Her body quivered, her mind turning into a passionate mush that had her biting her lower lip. When he speared his tongue, touching the entrance of her core, she bucked, her eyes closing tightly as her head fell back. It was ecstasy, plain and simple. And here, in this moment, there was no question of whether she wanted it or should allow it. There was only the gentle rocking of her hips, the flat of her palms against the back of his head, and the glorious continuation of his tongue licking her pussy.
Marena couldn’t have stopped the waves of pleasure rippling through her with the ferocity of a tidal wave if she’d wanted to. Which she definitely did not. No, she wanted more, and so she thrust into him, loving the moment when his tongue thrust deep into her opening, soliciting even more of her nectar to be released. The slurping sounds were just as loud as the patter of water against the tile floors, his mouth working just as hungrily as her hips were moving over him.
His hands gripped her tighter, one cupping her ass again, the other still pressing against her thigh, spreading her even wider still. Marena’s eyes opened and fluttered closed with the myriad of sensations—the warm sprinkle of water on her sensitive skin, the spikes of heat as his tongue flicked over her clit, then sank inside her opening once more. The tremors began slowly, signaling that she was ready to explode. It felt so good, she thought with a guttural moan, better than she’d ever been able to make herself feel with any of the toys she’d acquired over the years. As for another man making her feel this way, there had been no one she could even begin to compare him to. At twenty-eight years old, she had to admit that was a very sobering thought. Luckily for her, Phelan’s deft fingers and very talented tongue pulled her thoughts right back to the here and now. As he thrust two fingers inside her while his tongue worked up a glorious frenzy over her clit, she finally surrendered with a long, deep moan as her release overtook her.
* * *
What the hell had he done?
Phelan chastised himself as he rubbed the towel over his head.
Fuck! he mouthed into the thick terry-cloth material before pulling it off his face. He still stood with his back to her, hoping like hell that she would be completely dressed before he had to turn toward her again.
He should never have gone back into that bathroom with her. In the other room had been a safe distance away, or so he’d thought. But even before she’d yelled out, Phelan had known he was too far away. He’d felt the distance weighing on him like a heavy blanket, stifling his breath and blurring his senses. With each step he’d taken away from the bathroom door his legs had felt like lead, slowing down until the sound of her whimpering had him immediately turning back. Standing perfectly still, he’d waited, hoping all these strange feelings would quickly subside and that he could get back to his normal life. Then she’d screamed and Phelan knew that all bets were off.
Still, seeing her naked had been too much. Touching her with wet and soapy hands, like the sweetest torture ever. There was no excuse; he should have known better. He should have known he wouldn’t be able to resist. Not for one damned minute.
It was just that she’d looked so good. Every curve and mound, his palms had itched to touch her skin to skin. His eyes had glazed seeing her dark nipples covered in the bright white soapy bubbles. Her breasts had been heavy in his hands, delectably so. He’d wanted his mouth on each nipple, wanted to feel the full breast lying against his face as he sucked her.
Hell!
He was hard enough to hammer nails and pissed off enough to punch a hole through the wall!
“Why does the pain go away when you’re around? Are you some type of healer?” She asked the question that Phelan wished like hell he had an answer for, once again.
No, he didn’t want to know why he could help her. He definitely did not want her to keep asking about it. He just wanted to do whatever was necessary at this moment to get them all through whatever was going to happen next. Nothing more and nothing less. He wasn’t a dreamer; he didn’t wish for any type of happily ever after, just a contentment for the here and now.
Phelan gritted his teeth.
Even her voice was sexy as hell, scraping along the raw edges of his mind, stroking the length of his cock the way he wanted her lips to do.
“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “I’m gonna need a change of clothes.”
When she didn’t respond Phelan walked toward the door, then cursed at the quick intake of breath he heard from behind. He dropped the towel to the floor and was tugging the hem of his soaked T-shirt from his pants and pulling it over his head when he turned in her direction.
“This can’t be normal,” she told him as she sat on the edge of the bed, using her fingers to massage her temples.
“Being a lycan isn’t normal,” he quipped, yanking the buckle of his pants free, then leaning forward to undo the ties of his boots.
“Well, no, not for me it isn’t,” she continued. “But you were born this way, weren’t you?”
“Yeah, luck of the draw!” he snapped with a frown, and then decided he was being extra-bitchy beca
use he was still ashamed about what he’d done to her in the shower.
“Look,” Phelan continued, forcing himself to look at her and feeling another wave of arousal slap against him in response. “I’ll apologize for what happened in there. I don’t normally just take . . . I mean, I don’t ordinarily give a woman pleasure unless . . . and never a—I mean, dammit!”
The words just wouldn’t come and that pissed Phelan off even more.
“You don’t normally give a woman you’ve just met oral pleasure. Is that what you’re trying to tell me?” she asked, lifting one elegantly arched brow.
She sat on the bed wearing a white T-shirt that had pink letters scribbled across its front. It looked short from where he was standing, not nearly enough material to cover all of her ass and a good portion of her thighs, which was what he was going to need to keep from wanting to touch her again.
“No,” he said, holding tightly to his composure. “I don’t. And it won’t happen again, so you don’t have to worry.”
He’d continued taking off his clothes until he was naked. They were only a queen-sized bed’s length apart and her gaze had fallen lower, her tongue slipping slowly over her bottom lip. His cock twitched at the sight and Phelan realized it wasn’t simply seeing her tongue that had him thoroughly aroused but the way she was staring so hungrily at him.
“Stop,” he said, more for himself and the thoughts of taking a couple of steps closer and feeding her his throbbing length than to her specifically.
She looked up immediately, her eyes blinking as if she’d just been awakened from a trance.
“I don’t know what’s happening,” she admitted, shaking her head. “I mean, I’m not trying to sound coy or like I’ve really never seen a gorgeous guy naked. But this is just so out of character for me. It’s just not what I do or how I feel.”
“It’s the change,” he told her quickly, this time resisting the urge to grab his cock at the base and stroke.