“My dad.” She swallowed. “We spent hours playing. Guess that’s why I was never good at sports. Most fathers play catch with their kids, mine was teaching me the Carom and Butterfly shots. What about you?”
“I taught myself, and then my brother.”
“You’ve got raw talent then.” She nodded and knocked her ball in the corner with a spin to the cue ball.
“Some. Rather play for relaxation and fun than competition.”
“This is one of the few times I don’t feel like a klutz. I can’t even walk down the sidewalk without tripping over something.” She twirled her pole. “But put one of these sticks in my hands and it’s like giving a lame man a new leg.”
He closed the distance between them, sensing the pain behind her words, and cupped her cheek. “I don’t think you’re clumsy at all.”
Laughing, she shook her head. “You’ve not been around me long enough. Just wait.”
And he wanted to. Her laugh made his heart lighten and his wolf rubbed up against him inside, as if longing for her to pet him. Was she good at taming wild beasts, like she was at pool? He remembered her trying to feed him…a wild wolf…in the hospital parking lot.
The sound of two balls dropping into slots brought his attention back.
“My win.”
He inclined his head. What would she ask him now that she had control? “And what do you want to know?”
“Seeing how this was a more involved game,” she lowered her lashes, “I think I’ve earned a double reward.”
“That so?” He silently commanded his dick not to respond when the scent of her curled around him as she drifted closer. His wolf pacing back and forth inside him insisted they mate with her.
“First, tell me what you’re afraid of.” She trailed a hand up his arm, making it hard for him to concentrate.
Was he that easily read? “In rugby?” His voice caught and he cleared his throat.
“In life.” She looked up at him.
“Failure.” The word slipped out before he could stop it. “Failing my brother… my teammates… my friends. When I play, I like to win. Always.”
“Me too. When I set my mind to something, I go after it without remorse.” She gave a soft smile. “Drove my mother crazy. Once, when I was fourteen, I wanted to learn to drive my dad’s truck. It was a standard and I couldn’t get the rhythm of the clutch and the gear shift. But after months of trying, he said I drove like a race car driver. I think he was just being flattering.”
Ryan brushed a hair from her cheek. “I’ll let you drive my Stingray sometime. You’ll feel like you’re flying.”
“I already am.” She nibbled at his bottom lip.
“It’s getting lat—” before he could finish his sentence, Jessica yanked his shirt off her body, revealing her packed bra and smooth creamy stomach.
“Didn’t you say you had two questions?” He suddenly lost his train of thought as she knelt before him, tugging down his shorts.
Her hands wrapping around his shaft and she let the tip of him poke out the top of his boxers. She licked the tip of him, sucking softly at first, then harder, stroking her palms up and down the length of him. When she let go of him and stood, he was panting with need.
“I want to know how turned on I have to make you before you fuck me on this table.”
Untitled
Chapter Twelve
Jessica
Maybe it was the wine or the fact that she’d been thoroughly kissed but not satisfied by the hottest guy she’d ever touched. Whatever the reason, Jessica’s body hummed for Ryan. She wanted to feel him inside her. Have him screw her on the most expensive pool table she’d ever have the pleasure of playing on.
Instead of hoisting her up, he bent and replaced his shorts. “That’ll cost you a lot more games.” His tone was light, joking. But remorse and pain and something else filtered through his gaze. What was going on with him?
Playboy Taylor wasn’t interested in her? He’d been seen with dozens of women before… until the death of his two teammates and manager. Did their deaths weigh on him heavier than anyone knew? Did he blame himself?
She winced at the lump in her throat. “Sorry, I— Y-you’re right. Probably I’ve had too much to drink.” Not knowing what to do with her hands, she folded them across her stomach. God, she’d thrown herself at him and he wasn’t into her. What if he had a secret girlfriend stashed somewhere? Ugh, that meant she was a total skank.
“You okay?”
“Um, yeah. Just tired. Mind if we play the next game tomorrow or some other time?” So I can go bury myself in shame?
He cocked his head, concern filling his gaze. “Sure. Let me show you to one of my guest rooms.” After he led her back down the hallway, he paused outside a room with double doors. “Here ya go. What time do you normally wake up?”
“Why?” Was he hoping to have her gone by dawn?
“Just wanted to have breakfast ready for you.” He opened the door and gestured inside. “Make yourself at home. Let me know if you need anything.”
She nodded, pushing into the room. It was a massive bedroom with silver furniture and a bed that was bigger than her car. A black bedspread with silver vines covered the top of it.
“Wow,” she said.
Ryan chuckled behind her, before closing the door and leaving her alone.
Her feet slapped against the teak flooring as she moved deeper into the room. A chandelier with the light setting on low flickered overhead. Investigating, she found a huge closet that was empty except for a silk white robe, and a bathroom with a marble tub she could swim in.
Even though it was late, she would take a bath. The apartment she shared with Amber only had a shower. She ran the water, stripped, then sunk into the steaming water. Scented soap lay unopened beside the tub. After unwrapping it, the smell of lavender and vanilla relaxed her even more.
When the water cooled, she reluctantly pulled the drain and climbed out. Not wanting to sleep in her dirty clothes, she slipped between the sheets.
Tossing, she couldn’t find a position to get to sleep. Her mind was too wound up with what had happened with Ryan. Or what had almost happened.
A glass of milk might help her sleep. Plus, how often would she be in a mansion? She tossed the covers off and donned the white robe, which hung to her thighs. Well, better than nothing. Ryan had paraded around in his underwear like it was natural - even when they were outside his home. Would he think less of her if she ever dared to do the same? He was confident in his skin.
Before meeting him, she had thought she was too. But he had a confidence… a magnetism that she couldn’t explain. Part of her screamed danger. The other… well, that wanted to be with him and damn the consequences.
She opened her bedroom door and peered out. The house was dark and silent. Not wanting to turn on lights, she ducked back into the bedroom and retrieved her cell from her purse. With her cell flashlight app on low, she tiptoed to the kitchen.
The fridge hummed, and she opened it, revealing gallons of milk, beer, and red meat packed in every available spot. Does the guy not eat any veggies? Or fruit? And why so much red meat? Was he having a cookout or something?
After she rummaged through the cabinet for a glass, she filled a coffee cup with milk and leaned against the granite counter, drinking the beverage. Only thing more perfect would be a new book to skim while she finished the milk. The image of Ryan’s library filled her mind. She could find a novel there. And, more importantly, look through some of the weird books to figure out why he had such a vast collection of supernatural subjects.
Tracing her steps from earlier today when she’d first arrived, Jessica’s cell lit the path.
In the library, she set her cup down on Ryan’s desk on top of a stack of newspapers, then peered at the volumes on his desk. Breaking curses. Counterspells. Medieval metamorphosis. Why was he reading this crap?
She picked up one of the books, flipping through it. Pictures of skinwalkers fil
led the pages. Opening another tome, it had therianthrope myths, including Valkyries shedding their swan skins and frolicking naked in a river. Okay, maybe she could understand why Ryan looked at these pictures since they had nude paintings. The caption under the picture read Swan Maidens. Another chapter had Native American legends including a nagual - a human who had the power to turn themselves into animal forms like donkeys, turkeys, dogs, or even jaguars or pumas.
Another section talked about how shifters married human women, concealing their true form. The offspring of these relationships were gorgeous children, with supernatural strength or who were shapeshifters themselves.
The Chinese chapter listed a dog shifter who’d married an emperor’s daughter and found a race of monsters. In the margin, someone had written…I am not a monster! Then they’d crossed out the sentence, except for the last word, and underlined it three times. She shivered. What poor soul thought of themselves that lowly?
She shook her head, setting the book down when a bookmarker peeking out of the same book caught her attention. After taking another sip of her milk, she opened the book to that page.
Turkic legends revered the wolf, including the belief that they were descendants of these animals. Throughout the chapter, notes and underlines were prevalent. Asena, a female wolf with a blue mane, was thought to be the originator of the Turkish people. Her name was circled in a black marker.
Outside, a howl startled her and she dropped the book on the desk. What was that? She crept to the window. Soon, more howls echoed. It was probably someone’s dogs. But still, an eerie sensation skittered up her spine. Memories flashed back to the wolf she’d encountered in the hospital parking lot.
As if responding to her thoughts, a huge white wolf sprang out from the side of the house. Jessica backed up quickly, her hip hitting the side of the desk. It was the wolf from the hospital.
No. She shook her head, her body trembling. That’s not possible. There was no way a wolf could or would travel from the hospital all the way here. Seconds later, four more wolves nearly the same size as the first dashed across the lawn. One black with a silver-tipped nose, two grays, and a cream-colored one with black paws.
Why were their wolves on Ryan’s property? They didn’t exist in New Zealand. She covered her mouth, stepping away from the window. Was that the reason for all the meat in the fridge? Did he keep them as pets, or worse, did he hunt them for sport or something?
She had to get out of here before he caught her gawking outside. Spinning to leave, her elbow hit her cup of milk. It smashed to the floor, breaking into a hundred pieces.
Shit!
Quickly, she bent to retrieve the pieces. A trash can sat under the window and she dumped the larger pieces inside. Feeling as though someone was watching her, she glanced behind her but found nothing.
Get a grip, Jessica. Everything’s fine and there’s a reasonable explanation for all of this. Yeah, maybe Ryan liked wolves and had a mini rescue center here.
She stood, her gaze sliding back outside. Several steps from the window, the white wolf had his head down, his lips curled back in a snarl, staring straight at her.
Untitled
Chapter Thirteen
Ryan
What was Jessica doing awake and in his study? She should be fast asleep by now, not staring out the window at a wolf - even if he was that wolf. How long had she been in there? His gut tightened from her snooping. Damn reporters, always in his business.
His notes and research about werewolves and how to remove this curse were in there! He'd been stupid to bring her back here. Last night, he should've driven her home then got a taxi back here.
But he had wanted to stay with her. Reassure himself that she was all right, since she had passed out before. But that didn’t mean she had free reign to his house and belongings. He shouldn’t have guessed anything less from a reporter.
Playing pool with her had been incredible, and he’d found himself fantasizing about her nonstop. Only, he had told her no, and every fiber in his body screamed to retract those words, to sweep her into his arms and give her what she wanted. Damn, what he craved too. But the risk of hurting her was too strong. Any woman who was in his life for more than a roll in bed, he needed to be honest with. His dad had been faithful to his mom for their entire marriage. He told Ryan that when he met the right woman, he’d know it. And that they’d support each other, no matter what. No secrets, no lies. How? Humans would think him crazy, or run screaming if he told anyone he was a werewolf.
Seconds passed as he debated what to do with her. She was a reporter, used to snooping around and digging for answers that shouldn’t be found. It was too dangerous for both of them, her being so near. He could lose control and shift. Tomorrow, he’d send her on her way. Screw the article and his reputation. That’s what the damn Christmas fundraiser had been for, anyway.
Hearing his pack yipping in the woods near him, he contemplated returning inside and demand she stop poring through his stuff. But would that make her think he was hiding something? He could deny it and say it was a hobby of his. That might work. Let her investigate all she wanted, she wouldn’t figure it out. Making a big deal about it would just make her more suspicious. Tomorrow she’d be out of here, and he’d keep her away from his home. He turned and ran toward his pack. Tonight was for running free and hunting. His paws slapped the earth as he dashed forward. What would the pack find? A couple of rabbits? Sheep were always good.
The next morning, Ryan sat at the kitchen table, drinking coffee. It did nothing to coat the taste of copper from his kill the night before. He’d checked on Jessica after he’d showered the blood off himself. The way she was laying on her side, with her dark hair spread across the pillow and her hand tucked under her cheek, made him ache to crawl into bed with her. Keep her tucked next to him so she couldn’t spy anymore.
When sounds from her bedroom reached him, he stood and stretched. He’d promised her breakfast and watching the team practice today. Whistling, he chopped up meat and veggies before warming them up in a skillet.
Moments later, she shuffled into the room, wearing a silk robe, her hair sticking up on one side in a way that made him think about how she’d look after he made love to her. Would her hair be worse, but with a contented smile on her face instead of the grimace she wore now?
“Morning.” He cracked open the eggs. “Breakfast will be ready soon.”
“Hmmph.”
“Not a morning person, I take it?” He poured the eggs into the sizzling pan, then tossed in some grated cheese.
“Morning people are idiots who should be shot.” Her yawn stretched out as she poured herself a cup of coffee.
“Maybe you should change your profession, then. Don’t reporters have to get the early worm?”
She waved a hand and took a sip of her coffee. “No one should have to start the day before ten am.”
Normally, he’d agree with her. The only reason he was up before nine was because he hadn’t slept last night. Thoughts of her and her laying alone in his house had tantalized him the rest of the night. Had she uncovered anything that would point the finger at him or his team being werewolves? No, that was impossible. No one would believe that. And him wanting to see his brother without the hospital security trying to break into the room made sleep impossible. “You’ll feel better after eating.”
“Smells delicious.”
He folded in the veggies and meat, then placed a steaming omelet on the plate in front of her. “Dig in, it’s better hot.”
Obediently, she cut herself a huge bite, her eyes closing as bliss filled her face. Instead of talking, she devoured the food. He liked that. Too many women didn’t enjoy their food because they were too concerned with their weight.
“Good?” He finished his omelet and sat down across from her.
“Oh my God, yes.” She wiped her mouth. “I could eat this every day. Might even change me into a morning person.”
He laughed. “That’s the be
st compliment I’ve had about my cooking.”
“How’d you get it not to be watery?” She leaned back in the chair. “Whenever I’ve tried to make omelets, they end up mushy.”
“Cook the filling first.” He finished off his coffee. “Then add it to the eggs. It cooks out the excess moisture ahead of time that way.”
She nodded. “Makes sense. I’ll have to try that.”
“Took me a bit to figure it out.”
“Well,” she stood and carried her empty plate to the sink, “if you ever want a guinea pig to try out your recipes on, I’m your gal.”
He held up his coffee cup in a toast. “I’ve canceled this morning’s practice, but we’ll have one this afternoon around two if you’re interested.”
“Absolutely.” She washed off her dish and tucked it into the dishwasher. “I’ve got some things to take care of this morning anyway, including getting clean clothes.”
“I don’t know, I kind of like seeing you in nothing but a robe.” He stood, a grin on his face. Stop it! He couldn’t have her. He couldn’t have anyone. After he set his plate and cup in the dishwasher, he turned to leave. “Our practice field is a half-hour from here, I’ll send you the directions.”
Rather than waiting for her reply, he strode to his bedroom with his hands clenched by his sides. It took everything he had not to draw her into his arms and kiss her. Touch her. Press her body to his. The sooner she got her story and got out of his life, the better. In the meantime, he needed to keep his distance.
Moments later, her rental car backfired as she drove out his driveway. Already, an ache pressed in on him. He raked a hand through his hair and then showered and dressed.
The hospital monitor whirled and beeped as Ryan sat next to his brother in the ICU. Thankfully, the three nurses from last night weren’t on duty. His brother’s leg was propped up on pillows and bandaged below the knee. The scent of healing flesh and ammonia permeated the air.
Falling for Shifters: A Limited Edition Autumn Shifters Collection Page 64