by Afton Locke
He stood so close to her his scent—hot and dangerous—weakened her knees. Why had she stayed with Curtis so long when she’d never wanted him half this much?
“More oranges?” He wrinkled his nose. “I don’t understand how people here go through so many of them.”
“Don’t you like them?” she asked.
“Not really.”
“Use these up first. They’re riper. I have tomatoes and cucumbers in the truck, too.”
He carried the crate into the storeroom, and she followed him to the refrigerator. When his hand accidentally brushed hers, she died inside because the touch reminded her of everything she’d never have—with him or anyone else.
“You look beat,” she said. “Yesterday was rough, wasn’t it?”
“I’ve never been so tired in my life.” He rolled his eyes. “I hadn’t realized running a restaurant was so hard.”
“You did a good job. The food tasted good and the waiting times weren’t too long.”
“I couldn’t have done it without your help,” he said.
“We make a good team,” she couldn’t help saying. “Is Don home resting?”
Alan nodded. “I nearly had to tie him down. He didn’t like my decision.”
Her fingers froze around an orange. “What decision?”
“To sell the diner.”
“Oh, Alan, no.”
His dark gaze hardened. “I told you I can’t stay.”
“Why not?” she demanded. “Do you have wild parties every night up there? A million friends?”
“No. I live alone and do my job, which is all I need.”
It sounded like a lonely, unhappy existence to her. “The pack needs you.” I need you.
“Yeah, right.” He tossed an orange so hard it bounced inside the fridge. “They need me like a hole in the head.”
“Careful. The ripe ones bruise more easily.” Like her heart. She grabbed his wrist, overwhelmed by the electric tingles shooting up her arm. “They don’t know it yet, but I sense danger to the pack.”
“I live alone because I like it,” he said. “It also gives me some peace and dignity. Most of all, I’m less likely to accidentally kill somebody.”
“How sad for you,” she said in a small voice.
He stood abruptly, letting her hand fall. “I’ll grab the other crates of vegetables. Are they in the back of your truck?”
A ball of fire bloomed in her abdomen. If she couldn’t talk him into staying, there was only one other way, and it happened to be something she really wanted. She stood, too, and closed the refrigerator door.
“The vegetables can wait.” She brushed the orange across her breasts, raising the nipples through the fabric of her pink shirt. “I can’t.”
“Jesus, Shelley. What are you trying to do?” His gaze rested on her chest, heavy as a hand, and his aroused scent charged the air.
“Leave if you have to.” She dropped her hand, feeling silly for acting like a seductress. “I just ask one thing before you go. Make love with me.”
“That would be a very bad idea.” But his voice had a big crack in it.
“Just once,” she amended. “I’ll never be with another man.”
“You should marry Curtis. You know him a lot better than you do me.”
“You’ve got that right. I don’t know you at all.” She turned her back on him. “Get the damn crates.”
As soon as he left, she tore a hunk of skin off the orange she held and took a messy bite of it. Tears spattered her cheeks, but the scents of citrus and salt couldn’t cleanse away Alan’s. Need, male and raw, hung in the air, tormenting her. If she wasn’t his cup of tea, she could accept that, but they were mates. Why did he have to be so logical?
When he came back, he dropped the crates on the counter. His muscular arms glistened with sweat from carrying two at a time.
“Don’t cry, Shelley.” He hugged her close to his chest and looked down at her orange, which he’d crushed in the process. “Shit. I can’t do anything right.” After grabbing a nearby dish towel, he dabbed the fruity juice that had spilled on her shirt.
She batted his hand away. “I’ll clean it later. I need to go. I’m not wanted here.”
“Oh, I want you.” The deep growl of his voice vibrated the air around them.
Her breath caught when he gripped her shoulders—hard—and bent to lick a drop of orange juice from her shirt. His breath and tongue, hot and damp, penetrated the thin fabric. Fire rippled through the nipple below.
She clutched the bandana on his head with sticky fingers. “Oh, Alan…. Don’t stop.”
By the look in his eyes, he couldn’t if he wanted to. She’d seen that fiery expression on prom night, before he tried to knock Curtis’s head off. It felt as if a beast lived inside him. Knowing she’d unleashed it made her clitoris throb.
His strong hands circled behind her, squeezed her butt, and lifted her to the counter behind her.
“Yes.” She gasped when he yanked up her shirt and tugged down her bra cups. His mouth closed around her nipple. Then his teeth. The sudden pain arched her back. She barely caught herself from falling backward.
He ripped a section out of the orange and squeezed it, raining the sweet juice across over her belly. The warm nectar trickled over her sensitized flesh, sending her muscles into spasms.
“That’s it, honey. Twitch for me because I’m going to make you come so hard.”
She moaned, gripping his bandana for dear life when he swirled his tongue across her belly and burrowed the tip into her navel. His beard swept across her sensitive skin, hard where his tongue had been soft. She squirmed her hips, begging him to lick her swollen flesh farther south.
Instead of pulling off her shorts, he worked from underneath, squeezing the orange over the area where her bare thigh met her hip. Then he eased his finger under the denim hem, tunneling into her heat. Sweet sensations gripped her, sending her into more contractions while his tongue followed the path his digit had made.
“You know, I’m starting to like oranges,” he said.
When she unzipped her shorts and tugged down the waistband of her cotton panties, he chuckled and poured orange juice over her mound, too. She sucked in fast breaths while he combed her thatch of hair, his fingers glistening wet with fruit juice and her cream.
“Kiss me,” she begged.
Instead, he dragged sticky fingers through her hair, but she didn’t care. The messier the better. She wanted his seed in her mouth, her hair, and all over her body. He let his mouth hover over hers, teasing her. His tongue tip flicked hers, too, giving her a few drops of juice. Rearing into him, she bit into his sexy, full lips. She must have a beast inside her, too.
In response, he growled and kissed her hard, sucking the breath out of her lungs. Every vein inside her seemed to deflate, swallowed into her meant-to-be mate. He wasn’t even inside her and her body perched on the edge, ready to come. Sex with Curtis didn’t even approach this.
She reached down, fumbling with his fly. “Lock the door. Lock the damn door!”
He did. By the time he approached her, he had his zipper down and his cock out. With shaking hands, she tried to pull off her shorts, but everything was too sticky to slide. He yanked them, and her panties, off with one hand and hopped onto the counter. After crouching on his knees, he pulled her legs around so he could enter her.
His cock was so heavy and hard as he leaned over her, it brushed her sticky belly. She couldn’t help writhing under it, desperate to get it inside her where it belonged. He took a deep breath and the wild look in his eyes receded, leaving tenderness.
Don’t change your mind now!
“You asked for this, Shelley.” He brushed her cheek with a gentle finger while big, ragged breaths rocked his shoulders. “When I enter you, I won’t be able to stop.”
Her head thrashed from side to side while a relentless fire burned in her loins. “Give it all to me, Alan.
Even the mating bite.”
His face grew serious. “Not that. Not this time.”
She threaded her fingers through the tails of his bandana, bringing his head to her breast. The skin on his face burned hotter than fire. While he sucked the orange juice lingering on her nipples, she hoped her body could satisfy everything he’d ever starved for…acceptance, peace…even love.
While the suction of his eager mouth engorged the tips of her breasts, he eased the head of his cock into her drenched slit. A small scream escaped her as her pelvic muscles embraced it. Grunting, he pushed her thighs apart farther while entering her the rest of the way.
“Alan,” she muttered, out of her mind with pleasure. Every nerve ending in her core screamed, Yes, yes, he’s the one. Your mate.
“Ready for the ride of your life?” he whispered in her ear.
“God, yes.” She slid her arms around his lean waist, prepared to hold on no matter what.
He pulled out slowly and lunged back into her, so fast it stole her breath. By the second stroke, he’d become a pile-driving machine. Every powerful inch of him scraped her raw yet caressed her like silk at the same time. It felt so perfect she barely noticed the pain from her bottom slapping the wooden counter. Any harder and the cans on the nearby shelves would crash to the floor.
She grabbed his bandana again. Eventually, it slipped off his head under her frantic grip. He lifted her hips while he crouched on the counter, driving into her deeper and harder than ever. The beast in him pounded through every frustration they’d ever had, starting with prom night.
In this wild, wonderful moment, they had a future. He was part of the pack and her. Bond us, the wolf in her howled, but when she lifted her hair and arched her neck before him, he didn’t bite. Instead, she gasped when he took her to the top. His thumb nestled against her clit, strumming the super-sensitive flesh.
Their climaxes hit so close together, she wasn’t sure whose came first. They grappled each other across the counter, banging elbows and knees while her pelvis exploded with fireworks. Steel-hard contractions in her belly squeezed his cock, choking off her air and damming up her blood in its tracks.
She finally breathed again when his hot seed coated her walls. Give me your love, Alan. Your soul. Your children…. When it was over, his heavy body covered the length of hers, pressing her into the wood beneath her. His breaths, still hard but slower, brushed her shoulder.
“I love you, Alan,” she murmured into his ear as an aftershock rocked her.
“Don’t say that,” he replied, his voice thick and unreadable as he pulled out of her.
“But—” Suddenly, she felt messy and so cold. How could she face the rest of the pack or the breakfast crowd when she wanted to crawl off and hide in one of her empty fruit crates for the rest of the day?
He stood and cleaned himself with a towel. “You asked for sex. Even that took almost more than I could give.”
She grabbed another towel, struggling not to cry again. When she reached for her shorts, he grabbed her wrist. Without a word, he pulled her into his arms and squeezed her against his ribs.
“Shelley.” His voice emerged as a whimper, as vulnerable as a newborn pup’s.
He did love her. She felt it with wolf knowledge. The wolf also knew he hadn’t changed his mind about leaving. At least she had great sex to remember him by. She picked up the mangled orange. Her heart would be in the same shape when he left Moonlight.
Chapter Five
After Shelley headed to the dining room, Alan disinfected the counter. Had they really had wild sex on it? In his fantasies, he’d worried about performing like a bungling idiot since it was his first time, but instinct had taken over. His knees wobbled as if a hurricane had blown through the diner. If he’d known having sex with her would shake him to the soul, he never would have attempted it.
God, she felt and tasted sweeter than oranges. He loved that fruit now. Couldn’t wait to drink a big glass of orange juice and devour toast slathered with marmalade. He wanted to spend the rest of his life tasting her breasts.
When she’d exposed her neck to him for the mating bite, he’d been so tempted to complete their union. Aside from avoiding a bond that might keep him here, he was afraid he’d lose control. What if he started biting and the beast couldn’t stop? Hurting her would kill his soul.
Why did she have to love him? He was a violent freak, and everyone knew he planned to leave. He closed his eyes, imagining his life in northern Virginia, knowing it would never be the same now.
It would be as empty as hell.
He tied his bandana back on and slipped out the back door to get the rest of the vegetables out of Shelley’s truck. He barely had enough time to fire up the grill for the breakfast crowd. In fact, the pack members were starting to arrive. Birds chirped from the nearby woods in the climbing morning heat.
When he reached into her truck for the last crate, full of tomatoes, an expensive looking black sedan pulled up beside him. It was a little too early for tourists. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled. Suddenly, he remembered Shelley’s premonition about danger to the pack.
A man in a gray suit stepped out. Definitely not a tourist. Alan’s nostrils flared, scanning the air for the man’s scent above the tang of tomatoes. Wolf. Because he didn’t live here, he wasn’t familiar with the packs in bordering territories. He sensed this tribe wasn’t friendly. A pair of pale-green eyes—ruthless and dead—flicked over him. Alan fought the urge to shiver.
“Excuse me, can you tell me who owns this establishment?”
“Don Shifflett. Why?” Alan asked.
“Is he inside? I’d like to speak with him.”
Alan crossed his arms and stood between him and the diner. Shelley was in there, and for some reason, he felt the urge to protect her.
“I’m his son. You can talk to me.”
The man hesitated, visibly taking in Alan’s bandana, tank top, and jeans. Alan’s beast stretched its paws, ready to pounce.
“Graham Linden.” The stranger held out his cold hand and the men shook, raising the hackles on Alan’s neck even higher. “I’ll come right to the point. We’d like to buy the diner.”
Not I, we.
Alan raised his chin. “And who is we?”
Graham’s face twitched with the effort to look neutral and polite. Apparently, Alan didn’t appear dressed well enough to rank too highly on his pack’s totem pole.
“Lobos Enterprises. We have businesses in various parts of Florida, and we want to expand.”
Uneasiness tickled Alan’s spine. How did he know the diner was for sale? The pack members would keep the news private, at least for a while, so they’d have first dibs on it. Was a rival pack trying to take over Moonlight’s territory? It had happened before, sending its members to live in an orange grove as refugees.
It’s not for sale. The words hovered on his lips, but he didn’t know why. When the logical part of his brain kicked in, excitement finally gushed through his veins. Wasn’t this what he wanted? By the looks of Graham, his outfit had money. Alan could probably get full asking price. Such an easy sale seemed almost too good to be true.
“We’re prepared to offer a fair price,” the other man said, as if reading his mind. “Our lawyer can have the papers drawn up tomorrow.”
Alan’s eyes widened. They meant business. He’d never dreamed of such a quick and easy sale. He could return to his job and still have some vacation time left over. But what good would a vacation be without Shelley to enjoy it with? He couldn’t help picturing her in a bikini on one of Florida’s Gulf-Coast beaches.
The temptation to whip out a pen and lock in a commitment to the deal raced through him. Legally, the diner belonged to his father, not the pack. They’d probably refuse the sale just to spite him, but he thought of Shelley. She worked so hard for the pack. It meant a lot to her. He’d be gone as soon as the ink dried, but she’d be the one living here and dealing with w
hatever decision he made.
“Come on in, Mr. Linden. I’ll give you a tour and some breakfast, on the house.”
Might as well let the pack get a sniff of the potential buyer to ease his conscience, but he wasn’t going to let anything stand in the way of his quick exit.
***
When Shelley strolled into the dining room with her order pad, she felt naked in front of the pack members who’d arrived for breakfast. Her shirt stuck to her belly, and the scent of sticky orange juice lingered in her hair. Of all days to have to fill in for a sick waitress.
Had Alan really made love to her? The dream she’d carried around for so many years had finally come true. Well, not quite. She dreamed of a wedding and a lifetime spent with her true mate. Their sexy romp on the kitchen counter would be all she’d have. Nevertheless, she’d treasure it for the rest of her days. Especially the intense hug at the end.
Derek sat in his usual spot at the breakfast counter. Since he was the Alpha, he always got served first. Why did Curtis have to sit next to him this morning?
“What’ll it be, guys?”
“I’m in the mood for a Spanish omelet today,” Derek said, running a hand over black, shower-damp hair. “Throw in a side of bacon and some toast.”
She wrote it down in her pad and glanced at Curtis.
“You’ve had sex.” His nostrils flared, and he sniffed the air. “Recently, too. By the smell of you, you didn’t even shower afterward. Scabs must have nailed you in the kitchen.”
Her pen shook as she held it. “Curtis, this isn’t the time or the place. Now, what would you like to eat?”
“Black coffee,” he muttered. “I’ve lost my appetite. Besides, I don’t want Scabs cooking my food when his fingers have just been up your cunt.”
Derek glared at him. “That’ll be enough, Curtis.”
Before she turned to go to the kitchen, the Alpha grabbed her wrist. “Based on our last conversation, I didn’t think you would mate with Alan.”